ked her state.

The tiresome days rolled round, never relieved
By the refreshing shadows of the night;
Until the lamps so often counted o'er,
Seemed burning in her brain; and she had fears
That madness lurked within her feverish veins.
The ghouls who chanced to pass her, never spake;
At last, with joy, the stranger of the mount
She saw approaching:

"Ah! Sir JOHN," she cried--
Her pale face, peering through the lattice-work--
"Thou find'st me in a miserable plight--
A closer prisoner by far than thou."

"Why, thou bright bird, has OENE caged thee here--
Prisoned an oriole in her Arctic bowers?
'Tis well we meet. As I was solacing
My banishment, by wandering here and there,
Greeting old Thug by the day's sickly smile,
I chanced within this cavern, where surprise
And pleasure lured me on from scene to scene.
What tyrant holds thee in this glittering cell?"

"From OENE's anger I am suffering,--
Yes, dear sir JOHN, from more than angry hate--
From that implacable passion, worst of all,
And cruelest of purpose, jealousy.
I'd trust the tenderness of hungry wolves,
The beauty of the cobra, or the talk
Of waters to the rocks--but not the will
Of woman, when to jealous thoughts aroused.
She binds me here and bears my love away,
To tempt him with a thousand sweetest wiles--
With beauty, wealth, ambition, vanity,
And all that easiest moves a man's proud heart.
How shall I know if BERTHO--_even he_--
Has truth or virtue beyond this rich price?
Or, she may torture him,--by pain compel
Consent to her soft wish and queenly will.
Alas, Sir JOHN, I am very miserable!"

"Shall I not play the messenger, and urge
Thy cause before her, if, by inquiry,
I find the Queen still visiting old Thug?"

"Oh, if thou would'st and yet--what should I gain?
Nothing, nothing!--still, I should hear from _him_--
Should know the worst. I'll pray for thy success,
And thank thee from my heart, if thou wilt go!"

Long time Sir JOHN, misled by wicked sprites,
Searched for the Queen! until, by some kind chance,
He wandered through a grotto by the sea,
Where silver pendules from the ceiling hung
And gossip ripples whispered at the door.
Here, on a seat from solid crystal hewn
Sat OENE,--BERTHO at her feet,--her hand
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