XLI.

So didst thou pass on brightly!--but for her, Next in that path, how may _her_ doom be spoken! All Merciful! to think that such things were, And _are_, and seen by men with hearts unbroken! To think of that fair girl, whose path had been So strew’d with rose-leaves, all one fairy scene! And whose quick glance came ever as a token Of hope to drooping thought, and her glad voice As a free bird’s in spring, that makes the woods rejoice!