XLVII.
Thoughts no more mingled! Then came night—th’ intense
Dark blue—the burning stars! I saw thee shine
Once more, in thy serene magnificence,
O Southern Cross![303] as when thy radiant sign
First drew my gaze of youth. No, not as then;
I had been stricken by the darts of men
Since those fresh days; and now thy light divine
Look’d on mine anguish, while within me strove
The still small voice against the might of suffering love.