Page:Rosalind and Helen (Shelley).djvu/38

24 The gates of that dark refuge closed, Came to my sight, and almost burst The seal of that Lethean spring; But these fair shadows interposed: For all delights are shadows now! And from my brain to my dull brow The heavy tears gather and flow: I cannot speak: Oh let me weep!

The tears which fell from her wan eyes Glimmered among the moonlight dew: Her deep hard sobs and heavy sighs Their echoes in the darkness threw. When she grew calm, she thus did keep The tenor of her tale:


 * He died:

I know not how: he was not old, If age be numbered by its years: But he was bowed and bent with fears, Pale with the quenchless thirst of gold, Which, like fierce fever, left him weak;