LVIII.
Too stern inscription for a page so young,
The dark translation of his look was death!
But death was written in an alien tongue,
And learning was not by to give it breath;
So one deep woe sleeps buried in its seal,
Which Time, untimely, hasteth to reveal.
LIX.
Meanwhile she sits unconscious of her hap,
Nursing Death's marble effigy, which there