Page:The New Life (Rossetti 1899) Siddal ed.djvu/157

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They wept till they are circled now by Love

With a red circle in sign of martyrdom.

These musings, and the sighs they bring from me,

Are grown at last so constant and so sore

That love swoons in my spirit with faint breath;

Hearing in those sad sounds continually

The most sweet name that my dead lady bore,

With many grievous words touching her death.

About this time, it happened that a great number of persons undertook a pilgrimage, to the end that they might behold that blessed portraiture bequeathed unto us by our Lord Jesus Christ as the image of His beautiful countenance, (upon which countenance my dear lady now looketh continually). And certain among these pilgrims, who seemed very thoughtful,