Page:The poems of Emma Lazarus volume 1.djvu/272

258 Listen, my lord; You shall hear all. What hour, think you, he chose To urge his cause? The same wherein I learned Your Highness had commanded for to-night Our presence. My winged thoughts were flying back To Count Lodovico’s; again I saw you, My white rose at your lips, your grave eyes fixed Most frankly, yet most reverently, on mine. Again my heart sank as I heard the name, The Prince of Austria; and while I mused, He spake of love. Oh, I am much to blame! My mood was soft;—although I promised naught, I listened, yea, I listened. Good, my lord, Do you not pity him?

Thanks, and thanks again, For thy confession ! Now no spot remains On the unblemished mirror of my faith. Since that dear night, I with one only thought Have gained the sum of knowledge and opinions Touching thine honored father, with such scraps As the gross public voice could dole to me Concerning thine own far-removed, white life. Thou art, I learn, immured in close seclusion;