Was that which showed the soul that would command;
It might be art, or nature—none could tell—
But if a mask, he wore it rarely well.
V.
The western clouds have lost their purple dye,
A silver radiance tints the eastern sky—
That dream-like glory tells the eye, that soon
Above the hills shall sail the summer moon.
And Gilbert passed within that silent hall,
Lit by a dim lamp trembling from the wall,