Page:The Improvisatrice.pdf/243

Rh

There sprang one to the lattice, and leant forth, Gasping for the fresh air,—my own fair girl! My only one! The vision haunts me still: The white arms raised to heaven, and the long hair, Bright as the light beside it, stiff on the head Upright, from terror. In the accursed glare We knew each other; and I heard a cry Half tenderness, half agony,—a crash,— The roof fell in,—I saw my child no more! A cloud closed around me, a deep thunder cloud, Half darkness and half fire. At length sense came, With a rememb'ring like that which a dream Leaves, of vague horrors: but the heavy chain, The loathsome straw which was mine only bed, The sickly light through the dim bars, the damp, The silence, were realities; and then