And dared to dwell on what the fate of ours; 220
But the dread promise, to appear again,
Could it be done, I sought not to obtain;
But yet we were presuming—‘Could it be,’
He said, ‘O Emma! I would come to thee!’
“At his last hour his reason, late astray,
Again return’d t’ illuminate his way.
“In the last night my mother long had kept
Unwearied watch, and now reclined and slept;
The nurse was dreaming in a distant chair,