Page:The complete poems of Emily Bronte.djvu/201

Rh And Pity scarce her tears could hide,

So sweet that brow with all its pride.

But when upraised his eye would dart

An icy shudder through the heart,

Compassion changed to horror then,

And fear to meet that gaze again.

It was not hatred's tiger-glare,

Nor the wild anguish of despair;

It was not either misery

Which quickens friendship's sympathy;

No—lightning all unearthly shone

Deep in that dark eye's circling zone,

Such withering lightning as we deem

None but a spirit's look may beam;

And glad were all when he turned away

And wrapt him in his mantle grey,

And hid his head upon his arm,

And veiled from view his basilisk charm.