XV.

"And is he gone?"--on sudden solitude How oft that fearful question will intrude! "'Twas but an instant past, and here he stood! And now"--without the portal's porch she rushed, And then at length her tears in freedom gushed; Big, bright, and fast, unknown to her they fell; But still her lips refused to send--"Farewell!" For in that word--that fatal word--howe'er We promise--hope--believe--there breathes Despair. 490 O'er every feature of that still, pale face, Had Sorrow fixed what Time can ne'er erase: The tender blue of that large loving eye Grew frozen with its gaze on vacancy, Till--Oh, how far!--it caught a glimpse of him, And then it flowed, and phrensied seemed to swim Through those long, dark, and glistening lashes dewed With drops of sadness oft to be renewed. "He's gone!"--against her heart that hand is driven, Convulsed and quick--then gently raised to Heaven: 500 She looked and saw the heaving of the main: The white sail set--she dared not look again; But turned with sickening soul within the gate-- "It is no dream--and I am desolate!"