VII.

And while they sate, along the sward below Came Ruthven's stately form, and footstep slow; She saw--she fled--her chamber gain'd--and there Sobb'd out that grief which youth believes despair. Thenceforth her solitude was desolate; Forebodings chill'd her as a shade from Fate. At Ruthven's step her colour changed--and dread Hush'd her low voice: such signs his hope misled. Hope, to its own vain dreams the idle seer, Whisper'd--"First love comes veil'd in virgin fear!" And now, o'er Harcourt's image, as the rust O'er the steel mirror, crept at length distrust. The ordeal year already pass'd away, And still no voice came o'er the dreary sea; No faithful joy to cry--"The ordeal's past, And loved as ever, thou art mine at last."