But breathing hard at the approach of Death,
Updrawn in expectation of her change—
Camilla, my Camilla, who was mine
No longer in the dearest use of mine—
The written secrets of her inmost soul
Lay like an open scroll before my view,
And my eyes read, they read aright, her heart
Was Lionel's: it seem'd as tho' a link
Of some light chain within my inmost frame
Was riven in twain: that life I heeded not