XXVI.

Then bounded in a boy, with clear, dark eye-- How should _he_ know his father? When we parted, From the soft cloud which mantles infancy, His soul, just wakening into wonder, darted Its first looks round. Him follow’d one, the bride Of my young days, the wife how loved and tried! Her glance met mine--I could not speak--she started With a bewilder’d gaze--until there came Tears to my burning eyes, and from my lips her name.