VIII.

Thus, as the eve grew mellowing into night, Still from yon lattice stream'd the unwelcome light-- "Why loitering yet, and wherefore linger I?" And at that thought ev'n Nature pall'd his eye; He miss'd that voice, which with low music fill'd The starry heaven of the rapt thoughts it thrill'd; He gain'd the hall--the lofty stair he wound-- Behold, the door of his heart's fairy-ground! The tapestry veil'd him, as its folds, half-raised, Gave to his eye the scene on which it gazed: Still Constance wept--and hark what sounds are those What awful secret those wild sobs disclose!-- "No, leave me not!--I cannot meet his eyes! O Heaven! must life be ever one disguise! What seem'd indifference when we pledged the troth, Now grown--O wretch!--to terrors that but loathe! Oh that the earth might swallow me!" Again Gush forth the sobs, while Juliet soothes in vain. "Nay, nay, be cheer'd--we must not more delay; Cease these wild bursts till I his steps can stay; No, for thy sake--for thine--I must begone." She 'scaped the circling arms, and Constance wept alone.