LIX.

But he whose arm sustain’d her!--oh, I knew ’Twas vain!--and yet he hoped--he fondly strove Back from her faith her sinking soul to woo, As life might yet be hers! A dream of love Which could not look upon so fair a thing, Remembering how like hope, like joy, like spring, Her smile was wont to glance, her step to move, And deem that men indeed, in very truth, _Could_ mean the sting of death for her soft flowering youth!