She rose and fled in terror through the night,
All witless whither her weak steps might stray,
As some freed bird first wings its rapid flight
From its close prison to the realms of day;
But on a sudden beam'd an inward light
Upon her troubled soul and bid her stay,
With the warm blood sent swiftly to her cheeks,
The trace that signals when the fond heart speaks.
LXVII.
She thought of Julian—he so kind and true,
And how they gladden'd in the times gone by;
She thought how he had stolen her love's young dew,
And fused into her heart so tenderly,
Until beneath affection's power, they grew
Together knit in one sweet unity;
And now poor maid, by kith and kin forsaken,
Unto his heart she felt she would be taken.
LXVIII.
O blessed power of Love! that still can keep
A quiet haven for the weary soul,
When o'er the sea of life grief-tempests sweep,
And surging billows o'er contentment roll;
And thither though Affliction's cloud be deep
The heart steers true beneath its sweet controul!
To him, the loved, the lost, thus basely spurned,
She fled a prisoner from Death's chains return'd.
LXIX.
Sigh for the heart that follows to the grave
The perish'd idol of its summer dreams!
Sigh for the heart that powerless all to save,
Sees its sweet treasure gulph'd in sorrow's streams;
And joys that ivy-like around it clave,
Nipp'd of their blossoms, shorn of their warm beams!
So Julian follow'd from afar her bier,
With many a sigh, with many a bitter tear.