Page:The Soul of a Century.djvu/24

 Gleaming above like love’s bright tears. Whole worlds of them appeared at length Upon the skies—love’s timeless seat. Then, changed to fading ‘stars, whose strength, Was spent by love’s o’er sweet extent, They met, as roaming lovers meet.

The gaoler cautiously bends near, Close to the captive’s lips, his ear, And as a breeze lulls o’er the dale The captive whispers on his tale. Nearer and nearer the gaoler dips, Closer and closer to the captive’s lips, Till lips and ear blend into one. Each whispered sound now softly drips, Then all is hushed–as if asleep. The gaoler stands–moves not–undone. Large tears beneath his eyelids run And eyes and heart with sorrow weep. Long stands he, helpless to decide, Till as a beast prepared to leap, He leaves the cell with one long stride. Long as he lived–his lips kept sealed The secret he had heard revealed, And ne’er again he wore with grace A smile upon his furrowed face.

The gaoler gone—the shadow’d spell Fills once again the prison cell. Through night profound—the drops of slime Again, in falling, measure time.

There where the bleak stone table stands, The captive kneels—leans on his hands, His haggard face—a frightful sight. Motionless eyes that now appear Fixed on some boundless, timeless sphere. Tears, sweat and blood on cheeks alight, And endlessly the drops of slime Slowly, in falling, measure time. The sound of drops, the winds of night, Foretell the unrelenting doom Of him, whose failing reason fled. From far an owl hoots in dread, At midnight, when the church-bells boom.