Page:Rosalind and Helen (Shelley, Forman).djvu/31

Rh To refuge her when weak and old. With woe, which never sleeps or slept, I wander now. 'Tis a vain thought— But on yon alp, whose snowy head 'Mid the azure air is islanded, (We see it o'er the flood of cloud, Which sunrise from its eastern caves Drives, wrinkling into golden waves, Hung with its precipices proud, From that grey stone where first we met) There, now who knows the dead feel nought? Should be my grave; for he who yet Is my soul's soul, once said: "'Twere sweet 'Mid stars and lightnings to abide, And winds and lulling snows, that beat With their soft flakes the mountain wide, When weary meteor lamps repose, And languid storms their pinions close: And all things strong and bright and pure, And ever during, aye endure: Who knows, if one were buried there, But these things might our spirits make, Amid the all-surrounding air, Their own eternity partake?" Then 'twas a wild and playful saying At which I laughed, or seemed to laugh: They were his words: now heed my praying, And let them be my epitaph. Thy memory for a term may be My monument. Wilt remember me? I know thou wilt, and canst forgive Whilst in this erring world to live My soul disdained not, that I thought