Page:The Vow of the Peacock.pdf/230

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And there he lay and pined, till hope grew tired, Even of its sweet self; and now despair Reached its last stage, for it was grown familiar. Change came, when there was not a thought of change But in his dreams. Thanks to a pitying Slave Whom he had spared in battle, he escaped! And over sea and land the pilgrim went. It was a summer evening, when again He stood before his castle, and he paused In the excess of happiness. The sun Had set behind the towers, whose square heights Divided the red west; and on its verge, Just where the crimson faded, was a star— The twilight star—pale, like dew turned to light. Thro' the fair park he wandered on, and pass'd