XVI.

Vain thought! that hour of ne'er unravelled gloom Came not again, or Lara could assume A seeming of forgetfulness, that made His vassals more amazed nor less afraid. 270 Had Memory vanished then with sense restored? Since word, nor look, nor gesture of their lord Betrayed a feeling that recalled to these That fevered moment of his mind's disease. Was it a dream? was his the voice that spoke Those strange wild accents; his the cry that broke Their slumber? his the oppressed, o'erlaboured heart That ceased to beat, the look that made them start? Could he who thus had suffered so forget, When such as saw that suffering shudder yet? 280 Or did that silence prove his memory fixed Too deep for words, indelible, unmixed In that corroding secrecy which gnaws The heart to show the effect, but not the cause? Not so in him; his breast had buried both, Nor common gazers could discern the growth Of thoughts that mortal lips must leave half told; They choke the feeble words that would unfold.