It may be but a trance or midnight swoon.
And she may wake. Wake, Ladye! ha! methought
It was like her.—Like her! and is it not?
My angel girl? my brain, my stricken brain!—
I know thee now!—I know myself again.”
He flings him on the ladye, and anon,
With loathly shudder, from that wither’d one
Hath torn him back. “Oh me! no more—no more!
Thou virgin mother! is the dream not o’er,
That I have dreamt, but I must dream again