No brother now. She knelt to you in vain;
And that hath set a gulf—a boundless gulf—
Between our souls. Your very face is changed—
There’s a red cloud shadowing it: your forehead wears
The marks of blood—her blood!
(In a triumphant tone.)
But you prevail not! You have made the dead
The mighty—the victorious! Yes! you thought
To dash her image into fragments down,
And you have given it power—such deep sad power,