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And each is tortured in his separate hell-
For we are crowded in our solitudes-
Many, but each divided by the wall,
Which echoes Madness in her babbling moods ;-
While all can hear, none heed his neighbour's call-
None! save that One, the veriest wretch of all,
Who was not made to be the mate of these,
Nor bound between Distraction and Disease.
Feel I not wroth with those who placed me here?
Who have debased me in the minds of, men,
Debarring me the usage of my own,
Blighting my life in best of its career,
Branding my thoughts as things to shun and fear?
Would I not pay them back these pangs again,
And teach them inward sorrow's stifled groan?
The struggle to be calm, and cold distress,
Which undermines our Stoical success?
No!-still too proud to be vindictive-I
Have pardon'd princes' insults, and would die.
Yes, Sister of my Sovereign! for thy sake
I weed all bitterness from out my breast,
It hath no business where thou art a guest;
Thy brother hates—but I can not detest;
Thou pitiest not-but I can not forsake.

V. Look on a love which knows not to despair, But all unquench'd is still my better part, Dwelling deep in my shut and silent heart As dwells the gather'd lightning in its cloud, Encompass'd with its dark and rolling shroud, Till struck,-forth flies the all-ethereal dart! And thus at the collision of thy name The vivid thought still flashes through my frame, And for a moment all things as they were Flit by me;--they are gone—I am the same. And yet my love without ambition grew; I knew thy state, my station, and I knew A princess was no love-mate for a bard; I told it not, I breathed it not, it was Sufficient to itself, its own reward; And if my eyes reveal'd it, they, alas! Were punish'd by the silentness of thine, And yet I did not venture to repine. Thou wert to me a crystal-girded shrine, Worshipp'd at holy distance, and around Hallow'd and meekly kiss'd the saintly ground; Not for thou wert a princess, but that Love Had robed thee with a glory, and array'd Thy lineaments in beauty that dismay'dOh! not dismay'd—but awed, like One above;

And in that sweet severity there was
A something which all softness did surpass-
I know not how-thy genius master'd mine-
My star stood still before thee:-if it were
Presumptuous thus to love without design,
That sad fatality hath cost me dear;
But thou art dearest still, and I should be
Fit for this cell, which wrongs me, but for thee.
The very love which lock'd me to my chain
Hath lighten'd half its weight; and for the rest,
Though heavy, lent me vigour to sustain,
And look to thee with undivided breast,
And foil the ingenuity of Pain.

VI. It is no marvel—from my very birth My soul was drunk with love, which did pervade And mingle with whate'er I saw on earth ; Of objects all inanimate I made Idols, and out of wild and lonely flowers, And rocks, whereby they grew, a paradise, Where I did lay me down within the shade Of waving trees, and dream'd uncounted hours, Though I was chid for wandering; and the wise Shook their white aged heads o'er me, and said Of such materials wretched men were made,

And such a truant boy would end in woe,
And that the only lesson was a blow;
And then they smote me, and I did not weep,
But cursed them in my heart, and to my haunt
Return'd and wept alone, and dream'd again
The visions which arise without a sleep.
And with my years my soul began to pant
With feelings of strange tumult and soft pain;
And the whole heart exhaled into One Want,
But undefined and wandering, till the day
I found the thing I sought-and that was thee;
And then I lost my being all to be
Absorb'd in thine—the world was past away“
Thou didst annihilate the earth to me!

VII. I loved all solitude—but little thought To spend I know not what of life, remote From all communion with existence, save The maniac and his tyrant; had I been Their fellow, many years ere this had seen My mind like theirs corrupted to its grave, But who hath seen me writhe, or heard me rave? Perchance in such a cell we suffer more Than the wreck'd sailor on his desert shore; The world is all before him-mine is here, Scarce twice the space they must accord my

bier.

What though he perish, he may lift his eye
And with a dying glance upbraid the sky-
I will not raise my own in such reproof,
Although 'tis clouded by my dungeon roof.

VIII. Yet do I feel at times my mind decline, But with a sense of its decay :- I see Unwonted lights along my prison shine, And a strange demon, who is vexing me With pilfering pranks and petty pains, below The feeling of the healthful and the free; But much to One, who long hath suffer'd só, Sickness of heart, and narrowness of place, And all that may be borne, or can debase. I thought mine enemies had been but man, But spirits may be leagued with them-all Earth Abandons-Heaven forgets me;-in the dearth Of such defence the Powers of Evil can, It may be, tempt me further, and prevail Against the outwort creature they assail. Why in this furnace is my spirit proved Like steel in tempering fire? because I loved ? Because I loved what not to love, and see, Was more or less than mortal, and than me.

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