And saw the bosom’s sigh, the standing tear!
She thought profoundly, for I stay’d to look; 90
And first she read, then laid aside her book;
Then on her hand reclined her lovely head,
And seem’d unconscious of the tear she shed.
“‘Art thou so much,’ I said, ‘to grief a prey?’
Till pity pain’d me, and I rode away.
“Tell me, my Brother, is that sorrow dread
For the great change that bears her to the dead?
Has she connexions? does she love?—I feel