Their sentence, theirs, hath seal’d his doom,
And thou may’st weep as o’er his tomb!
Yes, weep!—relieve thy heart oppress’d,
Pour forth thy sorrows on my breast!
Thy cheek is cold—thy tearless eye
Seems fix’d in frozen vacancy.
Oh, gaze not thus!—thy silence break:
Speak! if ’tis but in anguish, speak!”
She spoke at length, in accents low,
Of wild and half-indignant woe: