VI.

Now came the graver trial, though unseen By him who knew not where the grief had been-- He knew not that an earlier love had steel'd Her heart to his--that curse, at least conceal'd; Enough of sorrow in his lonely lot-- The why, what matter--that she loved him not?

One night, when Revel was in Ruthven's hall, He near'd the brilliant cynosure of all: "Deign" (thus he whisper'd) "to receive with grace Him who may hold the honours of my race:-- When the last Ruthven dies, behold his heir!" He said, she turn'd--O Heaven!--and Harcourt there! Harcourt the same as when her glance he charm'd, For surer conquest by compassion arm'd-- The same, save where a softer shadow, cast O'er his bright looks, reflected the sad Past! Now, when unguarded and in crowds alone, The Future dark--the household gods o'erthrown; Now, when those looks (that seem, the while they grieve, Ne'er to reproach)--can pity best deceive; The sole affection she of right can claim-- Now, Virtue, tremble not--the Tempter came!