VIII.
"I cannot bear to live alone,
To hear no heart-heat, save my own;
Each moment, on this crowded earth,
The joy-bells ring some new-born birth;
Can ye not spare one form—but one,
The lowest—least beneath the sun,
To make the morning musical
With welcome from a human sound?"
"Nay," spake the youth,—"and is that all?
Thy comrade shall be found."
IX.
The boat sail'd on, and o'er the main
The awe of silence closed again;
But in the wassail hours of night,
When goblets go their rounds of light,
And in the dance, and by the side
Of her, yon moon shall mark his bride,
Before that Child of Pleasure rose,
The lonely rock—the lonelier one,
A haunting spectre—till he knows
The human wish is won!
X.
Low-murmuring round the turret's base
Wave glides on wave its gentle chase;
Lone on the rock, the warder hears
The oar's faint music—hark! it nears—
It gains the rock; the rower's hand
Aids a gray, time-worn form to land.
"Behold the comrade sent to thee!"
He said—then went. And in that place
The Twain were left; and Misery
And Guilt stood face to face!
XI.
Yes, face to face once more array'd,
Stood the Betrayer—the Betray'd!
Oh, how through all those gloomy years,
When Guilt revolves what Conscience fears,
Had that wrong'd victim breathed the vow
That if but face to face—And now,
There, face to face with him he stood,
By the great sea, on that wild steep;
Around, the voiceless Solitude,
Below, the funeral Deep!
XII.
They gazed—the Injurer's face grew pale—
Pale writhe the lips, the murmurs fail,
And thrice he strives to speak—in vain!
The sun looks blood-red on the main,
The boat glides, waning less and less—
No Law lives in the wilderness,
Except Revenge—man's first and last!
Those wrongs—that wretch—could they forgive?
All that could sweeten life was past;
Yet, oh, how sweet to live!