No more?
Surgeon.
No more. Ah, yes, one other thing:
Short time before, he feebly bade me bring
That package on the table—but ’tis torn—
Some one has opened it! It looked well worn,
In old, unbroken foldings when I brought
It from his satchel. Who could thus have wrought
On other’s property?
The Lady.
The owner.—Then
He said—
Surgeon.
To give it you, for you would know
Its history, and where it swift should go;
The name was writ within.
The Lady (aside).
Yes, love; amen!
Be it according to thy wish.
(Speaks.) Pray take
This fee, good sir. I would that for his sake—
Your kindness to him—I could send your name
Ringing through all the West in silver fame.—
At dawn, you said, the burial? Then leave
Me here alone with him. I well believe
You’ll show me further kindness. Speak no word
Beyond your doctor’s art to that poor child
Who weeps below. I would not that she heard
Aught more of grief.
[Exit Surgeon.
Ah! all my passion wild
Has gone; now come the softening woman tears.—
Forgive me, great Creator, that I spake
In my sharp agony. O do thou take
The bitterness from out my soul; I know
Naught, but thou knowest all! Then let my woe,
The poor blind woe we short-lived mortals bear,
Be my sad plea.—
I knew, through my despair,
You loved me to the last. Death had no fears
For you, my love; you met him with my name,
As talisman of the undying flame
That leaps o’er the black chasm of the grave
And mounts to heaven. But I will not rave,
When you died softly.
Ah! you love me there
As well as here. God never made me fair
For nothing; now, I know the gift he gave
That I might take my place with you at last,
Equal in loveliness, though years had passed
Since you first breathed the air above the skies,
The beauty-giving air of paradise.
Fair are you now, my love, but not like me:
Mine is the goddess-bloom, the rarity
Of perfect loveliness; yours, the bright charm
Of strong young manhood, whose encircling arm
Could bend me like a reed. Oh, for one clasp
Of that strong arm!—
Hist! was not that the hasp
Of the old door below? She comes; I hear
Her light step on the stair.
Darling, no fear
Need trouble you upon your couch; to me
A sacred trust this gentle girl shall be
Through life. Did you not love her once?