iet, o'er the tossing of his wail.

'Eyes,' he said, 'now throbbing through me! are ye eyes that did undo me?
_Shining eyes, like antique jewels set in Parian statue-stone!_
Underneath that calm white forehead, are ye ever burning torrid,
O'er the desolate sand-desert of my heart and life undone?'

"Ever, evermore the while in a slow silence she kept smiling,--
And approach'd him slowly, slowly, in a gliding measured pace;
With her two white hands extended, as if praying one offended,
And a look of supplication, gazing earnest in his face.

"Said he--'Wake me by no gesture,--sound of breath, or stir of vesture;
Let the blessed apparition melt not yet _to its divine_!
No approaching--hush! no breathing! or my heart must swoon to death in
The too utter life thou bringest--O thou dream of Geraldine!'

"Ever, evermore the while in a slow silence she kept smiling--
But the tears ran over lightly from her eyes, and tenderly;
'Dost thou, Bertram, truly love me? Is no woman far above me,
Found more worthy of thy poet-heart, than such a one as _I_?'

"Said he--'I would dream so ever, like the flowing of that river,
Flowing ever in a shadow, greenly onward to the sea;
So, thou vision of all sweetness--princely to a full completeness,--
Would my heart and life flow onward--deathward--through this dream of THEE!'

"Ever, evermore the while in a slow silence she kept smiling,--
While the shining tears ran faster down the blushing of her cheeks;
Then with both her hands enfolding both of his, she softly told him,
'Bertram, if I say I love thee,... 'tis the vision only speaks.'

"Soften'd, quicken'd to adore her, on his knee he fell before her--
And she whisper'd low in triumph--'It shall be as I have sworn!
Very rich he is in virtues,--very noble--noble certes;
And I shall not blush in knowing, that men call him lowly born!"

With the exception of the line, and the other expressions which we have
printed in italics, we think that the whole tone of this _finale_ is
"beautiful exceedingly;" although, if we may express our private
opinion, we should say that the lover, after his outrageous demeanour,
was very unworthy of the good fortune that befell him. But, in spite of
the propitious issue of the poem, we must be permitted (to quote one of
Miss Barrett's lines in this very lay) to make our "critical deductions
for the