Page:The complete poems of Emily Bronte.djvu/258

202 Yet marked she not where Douglas lay,

She only saw the well;

The tiny fountain, churning spray

Within its mossy cell.

'Oh! I have wrongs to pay,' she said;

'Give life, give vigour now.'

And stooping by the water's side

She drank the crystal flow.

And brightly with that draught came back

The glory of her matchless eye

As glancing o'er the moorland track,

She shook her head impatiently.

Nor shape—nor shade—the mountain flocks

Quietly fed in grassy dells;

Nor sound, except the distant rocks

Echoing to their bells.

She turns—she meets the murderer's gaze;

Her own is scorched with a sudden blaze.

The blood streams down her brow;

The blood streams through her coal-black hair,

She strikes it off with little care;

She scarcely feels the flow;

For she has marked and known him too,

And his own heart's ensanguined dew

Must slake her vengeance now!

False friend! no tongue save thine can tell

The mortal strife that then befell;