Lucile [72]
you?" "To both, my poor child, but 'twill bring with it too The courage, I trust, to subdue it." "O speak! Speak!" she falter'd in tones timid, anxious, and weak. "O yet for a moment," he said, "hear me on! Matilda, this morn we went forth in the sun, Like those children of sunshine, the bright summer flies, That sport in the sunbeam, and play through the skies While the skies smile, and heed not each other: at last, When their sunbeam is gone, and their sky overcast, Who recks in what ruin they fold their wet wings? So indeed the morn found us,--poor frivolous things! Now our sky is o'ercast, and our sunbeam is set, And the night brings its darkness around us. Oh yet Have we weather'd no storm through those twelve cloudless hours? Yes; you, too, have wept! "While the world was yet ours, While its sun was upon us, its incense stream'd to us, And its myriad voices of joy seem'd to woo us, We stray'd from each other, too far, it may be, Nor, wantonly wandering, then did I see How deep was my need of thee, dearest, how great Was thy claim on my heart and thy share in my fate! But, Matilda, an angel was near us, meanwhile, Watching o'er us to warn, and to rescue! "That smile Which you saw with suspicion, that presence you eyed With resentment, an angel's they were at your side And at mine; nor perchance is the day all so far, When we both in our prayers, when most heartfelt they are, May murmur the name of that woman now gone From our sight evermore. "Here, this evening, alone, I seek your forgiveness, in opening my heart Unto yours,--from this clasp be it never to part! Matilda, the fortune you brought me is gone, But a prize richer far than that fortune has won It is yours to confer, and I kneel for that prize, 'Tis the heart of my wife!" With suffused happy eyes She sprang from her seat, flung her arms wide apart, And tenderly closing them round him, his heart Clasp'd in one close embrace to her bosom; and there Droop'd her head on his shoulder; and sobb'd. Not despair, Not sorrow, not even the sense of her loss, Flow'd in those happy tears, so oblivious she was Of all save the sense of her own love! Anon, However, his words rush'd back to her. "All gone, The fortune you brought me!" And eyes that were dim With soft tears she upraised; but those tears were for HIM. "Gone! my husband?" she said," tell me all! see! I need, To sober this rapture, so selfish indeed, Fuller sense of affliction." "Poor innocent child!" He kiss'd her fair forehead, and mournfully smiled, As he told her the tale he had heard--something more, The gain found in loss of what gain lost of yore. "Rest, my heart, and my brain, and my right hand, for you; And with these, my Matilda, what may I not do? And know not, I knew not myself till this hour, Which so sternly reveal'd it, my nature's full power." "And I too," she murmur'd, "I too am no more The mere infant at heart you have known me before. I have suffer'd since then. I have learn'd much in life. O take, with the faith I have pledged as a wife, The heart I have learn'd as a woman to feel! For I--love you, my husband!" As though to conceal Less from him, than herself, what that motion express'd, She dropp'd her bright head, and hid all on his breast. "O lovely as woman, beloved as wife! Evening star of my heart, light forever my life! If from eyes fix'd too long on this base earth thus far You have miss'd your due homage, dear guardian star, Believe that, uplifting those eyes unto heaven, There I see you, and know you, and bless the light given To lead me to life's late achievement; my own, My blessing, my treasure, my all things in one!"
XII.
How lovely she look'd in the lovely moonlight, That stream'd thro' the pane from the blue balmy night! How lovely she look'd in her own lovely youth, As she clung to his side, full
XII.
How lovely she look'd in the lovely moonlight, That stream'd thro' the pane from the blue balmy night! How lovely she look'd in her own lovely youth, As she clung to his side, full