Page:Poems of Sentiment and Imagination.djvu/22

18 And the tumultuous throbbing of my pulse

Grew low, subdued, and gentle; and I breathed

My sorrow out in sighs, that were no more

The deep convulsiveness of bitter grief.

And by and by the earth and I, her child,

Slumbered in peace beneath the gentle reign

Of the fair queen of bright dominioned night.

But still I deemed that I was by my casement,

And that there lay beneath me, in the light

Of the full midnight moon, a lovely city;

A city beautiful with trees and fountains,

And works of grace and splendor, and high domes;

Palaces glittering in the moon's bright rays,

Gleaming like alabaster; and broad streets

Paved costlily with marble in mosaic,

But overgrown with grass and trailing weeds.

The spires, and palace-towers, and monuments,

Gleamed brightly in the moonlight, but rank moss

Waved from the terraces to the swaying wind,

With a low, rustling sound, and full of woe.

No print of feet was seen on any door-stone,

Not from one casement streamed the light of lamps,

But every where had desolation stalked,

Till not even one of all these palaces

Owned lord or serf—but all were tenantless.

And I alone was the sole living thing

That breathed within the city's silent walls.

The loneliness was awful; I stole down

From my still chamber to the trackless street,

And onward still, from palace unto palace,

Entering each by the wide-opened doors,

Whose hinges were no longer free to turn;

And flitting ghostily from room to room,

Pursued by phantom fears, I hastened on.

The moonlight checkered the cold marble floors,

And gleamed upon rich velvet, and high walls

Hung with dark paintings, frescoing their sides;

And glittered on large mirrors, that had not