THE LADY OF THE CASTLE.
FROM THE “PORTRAIT GALLERY,” AN UNFINISHED POEM.
If there be but one spot on thy name,
One eye thou fear’st to meet, one human voice
Whose tones thou shrink’st from—Woman! veil thy face,
And bow thy head—and die!
Thou see’st her pictured with her shining hair,
(Famed were those tresses in Provençal song,)
Half braided, half o’er cheek and bosom fair
Let loose, and pouring sunny waves along