He perished, but his wreath was won-- 25 He perished in his height of fame; Then sunk the cloud on Athens’ sun, Yet still she conquered in his name. Filled with his soul, she could not die; Her conquest was posterity 30 _George Croly._ CLXXXV _LOVE._ All thoughts, all passions, all delights, Whatever stirs this mortal frame, All are but ministers of Love, And feed his sacred flame. Oft in my waking dreams do I 5 Live o’er again that happy hour, When midway on the mount I lay, Beside the ruined tower. The moonshine stealing o’er the scene, Had blended with the lights of eve; 10 And she was there, my hope, my joy, My own dear Genevieve! She leaned against the armèd man, The statue of the armèd knight; She stood and listened to my lay, 15 Amid the lingering light. Few sorrows hath she of her own, My hope! my joy! my Genevieve! She loves me best, whene’er I sing The songs that make her grieve. 20 I played a soft and doleful air, I sang an old and moving story-- An old rude song, that suited well That ruin wild and hoary. She listened with a flitting blush, 25 With downcast eyes, and modest grace; For well she knew, I could not choose But gaze upon her face. I told her of the Knight that wore Upon his shield a burning brand; 30 And that for ten long years he wooed The Lady of the Land. I told her how he pined: and ah! The deep, the low, the pleading tone With which I sang another’s love, 35 Interpreted my own. She listened with a flitting blush, With downcast eyes, and modest grace; And she forgave me, that I gazed Too fondly on her face. 40 But when I told the cruel scorn That crazed that bold and lovely Knight, And that he crossed the mountain-woods, Nor rested day nor night; That sometimes from the savage den, 45 And sometimes from the darksome shade, And sometimes starting up at once In green and sunny glade,-- There came and looked him in the face An angel beautiful and bright; 50 And that he knew it was a fiend, This miserable Knight! And that unknowing what he did, He leaped amid a murderous band, And saved from outrage worse than death 55 The Lady of the Land;--