abroad.
Laura, you loved me! Look not so severe,
With your cold brows, and deadly, close-drawn lips!
You proved it, Countess, when you died for it,--
Let it consume you in the wearing strife
It fought with duty in your ravaged heart.
I knew it ever since that summer-day
I painted Lila, the pale beggar's child,
At rest beside the fountain; when I felt--
Oh, heaven!--the warmth and moisture of your breath
Blow through my hair, as with your eager soul--
Forgetting soul and body go as one--
You leaned across my easel till our cheeks--
Ah, me! 'twas not your purpose--touched, and clung!
Well, grant 'twas genius; and is genius nought?
I ween it wears as proud a diadem--
Here, in this very world--as that you wear.
A king has held my palette, a grand-duke
Has picked my brush up, and a pope has begged
The favor of my presence in his Rome.
I did not go; I put my fortune by.
I need not ask you why: you knew too well.
It was but natural, it was no way strange,
That I should love you. Everything that saw,
Or had its other senses, loved you, sweet!
And I amongst them. Martyr, holy saint,--
I see the halo curving round your head,--
I loved you once; but now I worship you,
For the great deed that held my love aloof,
And killed you in the action! I absolve
Your soul from any taint. For from the day
Of that encounter by the fountain-side
Until this moment, never turned on me
Those tender eyes, unless they did a wrong
To Nature by the cold, defiant glare
With which they chilled me. Never heard I word
Of softness spoken by those gentle lips;
Never received a bounty from that hand
Which gave to all the world. I know the cause.
You did your duty,--not for honor's sake,
Nor to save sin or suffering or remorse,
Or all the ghosts that haunt a woman's shame,
But for the sake of that pure, loyal love
Your husband bore you. Queen, by grace of God,
I bow before the lustre of your throne!
I kiss the edges of your garment-hem,
And hold myself ennobled! Answer me,--
If I had wronged you, you would answer me
Out of the dusty porches of the tomb,--
Is this a dream, a falsehood? or have I
Spoken the very truth?"--"The very truth!"
A voice replied; and at his side he saw
A form, half shadow and half substance, stand,
Or, rather, r