. Lucile. usion of hope Which Dante read over the city of doom. All the Tarquin passd into his soul in the gloom, And, uttering words he dared never recall, Words of insult and menace, he thunderd down all The brewd storm-cloud within him : its flashes scorchd blind His own senses. His spirit was driven on the wind Of a reckless emotion beyond his control; A torrent seemd loosend within him. His soul Surged up from that caldron of passion that hissd And seethd in his heart. VII. He had thrown, and had missdHis last stake. VIII. For, transfigured, she rose from the placeWhere he rested oer-awed
. Lucile. usion of hope Which Dante read over the city of doom. All the Tarquin passd into his soul in the gloom, And, uttering words he dared never recall, Words of insult and menace, he thunderd down all The brewd storm-cloud within him : its flashes scorchd blind His own senses. His spirit was driven on the wind Of a reckless emotion beyond his control; A torrent seemd loosend within him. His soul Surged up from that caldron of passion that hissd And seethd in his heart. VII. He had thrown, and had missdHis last stake. VIII. For, transfigured, she rose from the placeWhere he rested oer-awed: a saints scorn on her face:Such a dread vade retro was written in lightOn her forehead, the fiend would himself, at that sight,Have sunk back abashd to perdition. I knowIf Lucretia at Tarquin but once had lookd so,She had needed no dagger next morning. She roseAnd swept to the door, like that phantom the snowsFeel at nightfall sweep oer them, when daylight is Caucasus is with the moon all CANTO VI. LUCILE. 103 There she paused ; and, as though from immeasurable,Insurpassable distance, she murmurd— * Farewell! We, alas ! have mistaken each other. Once more* Illusion, to-night, in my lifetime is de Luvois, adieu! From the heartbreaking gloomOf that vacant, reproachful, and desolate room,He felt she was gone—gone for ever ! IX. No word,The sharpest that ever was edged like a have pierced to his heart with such keen accusationAs the silence, the sudden profound isolation,In which he remaind. O return ; I repent !He exclaimd ; but no sound through the stillness was the roar of the water, in answer to the beetle that, sleeping, yet hummd her night-hymn :An indistinct anthem, that troubled the airWith a searching, and wistful, and questioning prayer. Return, sung the wandering insect. The roarOf the waters replied, Nevermore ! nevermore !He walkd to the window. The spray on his browWas flung cold from the whirlpools of water
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