XXIII.

But ever and anon of griefs subdued There comes a token like a Scorpion's sting, Scarce seen, but with fresh bitterness imbued; And slight withal may be the things which bring Back on the heart the weight which it would fling Aside for ever: it may be a sound--[405] A tone of music--summer's eve--or spring--[mb] A flower--the wind--the Ocean--which shall wound, Striking the electric chain wherewith we are darkly bound;