Comes their reproachful sweetness to mine ear!
“Ora”—with all the purple waves replying,
All my youth’s visions rising in the strain—
And I had thought it much to bear the rack and chain!
XLV.
Torture! the sorrow of affections eye,
Fixing its meekness on the spirit’s core,
Deeper, and teaching more of agony,
May pierce than many swords!—and this I bore
With a mute pang. Since I had vainly striven