ld coast, by circumstances, in a regnant ebb and flow.

LXIII.

Thus, I knew that voice, I heard it, and I could not help the
hearkening:
In the room I stood up blindly, and my burning heart within
Seemed to seethe and fuse my senses till they ran on all sides
darkening,
And scorched, weighed like melted metal round my feet that stood
therein.

LXIV.

And that voice, I heard it pleading, for love's sake, for wealth,
position,
For the sake of liberal uses and great actions to be done:
And she interrupted gently, "Nay, my lord, the old tradition
Of your Normans, by some worthier hand than mine is, should be won."

LXV.

"Ah, that white hand!" he said quickly,--and in his he either drew it
Or attempted--for with gravity and instance she replied,
"Nay, indeed, my lord, this talk is vain, and we had best eschew it
And pass on, like friends, to other points less easy to decide."

LXVI.

What he said again, I know not: it is likely that his trouble
Worked his pride up to the surface, for she answered in slow scorn,
"And your lordship judges rightly. Whom I marry shall be noble,
Ay, and wealthy. I shall never blush to think how he was born."

LXVII.

There, I maddened! her words stung me. Life swept through me into
fever,
And my soul sprang up astonished, sprang full-statured in an hour.
Know you what it is when anguish, with apocalyptic NEVER,
To a Pythian height dilates you, and despair sublimes to power?

LXVIII.

From my brain the soul-wings budded, waved a flame about my body,
Whence conventions coiled to ashes. I felt self-drawn out, as man,
From amalgamate false natures, and I saw the skies grow ruddy
With the deepening feet of angels, and I knew what spirits can.

LXIX.

I was mad, inspired--say either! (anguish worketh inspiration)
Was a man or beast--perhaps so, for the tiger roars when speared;
And I walked on, step by step along the level of my passion--
Oh my soul! and passed the doorway to her face, and never feared.

LXX.

_He_ had left her, peradventure, when my footstep proved my coming,
But for _her_--she half arose, then sate, grew scarlet and grew pale.
Oh, she trembled! 't is so always with a worldly man or woman
In the presence of true spirits; what else _can_ they do but quail?