XVIII.

I loved her from my boyhood--she to me Was as a fairy city of the heart, Rising like water-columns from the sea-- Of Joy the sojourn, and of Wealth the mart; And Otway, Radcliffe, Schiller, Shakespeare's art,[lv][401] Had stamped her image in me, and even so, Although I found her thus, we did not part;[lw] Perchance even dearer in her day of woe, Than when she was a boast, a marvel, and a show.