And crept the sulphurous smoke the room within,
One maddening thought—her Gilbert—torture grew,
His single form her frenzied fancy drew,
Each blade was bent at Gilbert’s heart alone,
In every cry rung Gilbert’s dying moan,
Till a dull sense—like slumber or like death—
Unnerved her limbs and quenched her struggling breath,
Seemed the wild strife in distance far to die.
And gleamed with rainbow tints her closing eye.
She wakes—how dark and chill! Confused she hears—