Ev'n to the uttermost

in her behold Of all my treasures the most beautiful,

Of all things upon earth the dearest to me.'

Then waving us a sign to seat ourselves,
Led his dear lady to a chair of state.
And I, by Lionel sitting, saw his face
Fire, and dead ashes and all fire again
Thrice in a second, felt him tremble too,
And heard him muttering, 'So like, so
like;

She never had a sister. I knew none. Some cousin of his and hers-O God, so like!'

And then he suddenly ask'd her if she

were.

She shook, and cast her eyes down, and was dumb.

And then some other question'd if she

came

From foreign lands, and still she did not speak.

Another, if the boy were hers: but she To all their queries answer'd not a word, Which made the amazement more, till one of them

Said, shuddering, 'Her spectre !' But his friend

Replied, in half a whisper, 'Not at least
The spectre that will speak if spoken to.
Terrible pity, if one so beautiful
Prove, as I almost dread to find her,
dumb!'

But Julian, sitting by her, answer'd all : 'She is but dumb, because in her you see That faithful servant whom we spoke about,

Obedient to her second master now; Which will not last. I have here to

night a guest

So bound to me by common love and loss

What shall I bind him more? in his

behalf,

Shall I exceed the Persian, giving him That which of all things is the dearest to me, Not only showing? and he himself pronounced

That my rich gift is wholly mine to give.

'Now all be dumb, and promise all of

you

Not to break in on what I say by word
Or whisper, while I show you all my heart."
And then began the story of his love
As here to-day, but not so wordily—
The passionate moment would not suffer

that

Past thro' his visions to the burial; thence Down to this last strange hour in his own hall;

And then rose up, and with him all his guests

Once more as by enchantment; all but he, Lionel, who fain had risen, but fell again, And sat as if in chains-to whom he said:

Take my free gift, my cousin, for your

wife;

And were it only for the giver's sake, And tho' she seem so like the one you

lost,

Yet cast her not away so suddenly, Lest there be none left here to bring her back :

I leave this land for ever.' Here he ceased.

Then taking his dear lady by one hand, And bearing on one arm the noble babe, He slowly brought them both to Lionel. And there the widower husband and dead wife

Rush'd each at each with a cry, that rather seem'd

Past earthquake-ay, and gout and stone, that break

Body toward death, and palsy, death-in

life,

And wretched age-and worst disease of all,

These prodigies of myriad nakednesses, And twisted shapes of lust, unspeakable, Abominable, strangers at my hearth

Not welcome, harpies miring every dish, The phantom husks of something foully done,

And fleeting thro' the boundless universe, And blasting the long quiet of my breast With animal heat and dire insanity?

'How should the mind, except it loved them, clasp

These idols to herself? or do they fly Now thinner, and now thicker, like the flakes

In a fall of snow, and so press in, perforce Of multitude, as crowds that in an hour Of civic tumult jam the doors, and bear The keepers down, and throng, their rags and they

The basest, far into that council-hall Where sit the best and stateliest of the land?

'Can I not fling this horror off me again,

Seeing with how great ease Nature can smile,

Balmier and nobler from her bath of

storm,

At random ravage? and how easily
The mountain there has cast his cloudy

slough,

Now towering o'er him in serenest air,
A mountain o'er a mountain,—ay, and

within

All hollow as the hopes and fears of men?

'But who was he, that in the garden

snared

Picus and Faunus, rustic Gods? a tale To laugh at more to laugh at in myselfFor look! what is it? there? yon arbutus Totters; a noiseless riot underneath Strikes through the wood, sets all the tops

quivering

The mountain quickens into Nymph and Faun;

And here an Oread-how the sun delights To glance and shift about her slippery sides,

And rosy knees and supple roundedness, And budded bosom-peaks-who this way

runs

Before the rest—A satyr, a satyr, see, Follows; but him I proved impossible; Twy-natured is no nature: yet he draws Nearer and nearer, and I scan him now Beastlier than any phantom of his kind That ever butted his rough brother-brute For lust or lusty blood or provender :

I hate, abhor, spit, sicken at him; and she Loathes him as well; such a precipitate

heel,

Fledged as it were with Mercury's anklewing,

Whirls her to me: but will she fling herself, Shameless upon me? Catch her, goatfoot: nay,

Hide, hide them, million-myrtled wilderness,

And cavern-shadowing laurels, hide! do I wish

What?-that the bush were leafless? or to whelm

All of them in one massacre? O ye Gods, I know you careless, yet, behold, to you From childly wont and ancient use I call— I thought I lived securely as yourselves -No lewdness, narrowing envy, monkey

spite,