Ah! thou may’st give, instead
Of that sweet boon she asks, if so thou wilt,
Wild suffering, madness, shame, self-scorn, despair!
But thou wilt not! thine eyes—thy glorious eyes—
Are eloquent with generous love and faith,
And through thy voice a mighty heart intones
Its rich vibrations, while thou murmurest low
All lovely promises, and precious dreams
For the sweet Future. So, I trust thee, love,
And place my hand in thine, for good or ill.