Page:Rosalind and Helen (Shelley, Forman).djvu/37

35 Wasting the fountain-stone away. And in that dark and evil day Did all desires and thoughts, that claim Men's care—ambition, friendship, fame, Love, hope, though hope was now despair— Indue the colours of this change, As from the all-surrounding air The earth takes hues obscure and strange, When storm and earthquake linger there.

And so, my friend, it then befell To many, most to Lionel, Whose hope was like the life of youth Within him, and when dead, became A spirit of unresting flame, Which goaded him in his distress Over the world's vast wilderness. Three years he left his native land, And on the fourth, when he returned, None knew him: he was stricken deep With some disease of mind, and turned Into aught unlike Lionel. On him, on whom, did he pause in sleep, Serenest smiles were wont to keep, And, did he wake, a winged band Of bright persuasions, which had fed On his sweet lips and liquid eyes, Kept their swift pinions half outspread, To do on men his least command;