Page:Rosalind and Helen (Shelley, Forman).djvu/22

20 He was a tyrant to the weak, And we were such, alas the day! Oft, when my little ones at play, Were in youth's natural lightness gay, Or if they listened to some tale Of travellers, or of fairy land,— When the light from the wood-fire's dying brand Flashed on their faces,—if they heard Or thought they heard upon the stair His footstep, the suspended word Died on my lips: we all grew pale: The babe at my bosom was hushed with fear If it thought it heard its father near; And my two wild boys would near my knee Cling, cowed and cowering fearfully.

I'll tell thee truth: I loved another. His name in my ear was ever ringing, His form to my brain was ever clinging? Yet if some stranger breathed that name, My lips turned white, and my heart beat fast: My nights were once haunted by dreams of flame, My days were dim in the shadow cast By the memory of the same! Day and night, day and night, He was my breath and life and light, For three short years, which soon were past. On the fourth, my gentle mother Led me to the shrine, to be His sworn bride eternally.