I had some days of pain and penitence. I saw where all must end. I saw, too well, Edward was growing idle,--that his form Was gathering disgustful corpulence,-- That he was going down, and dragging me To shame and ruin, beggary and death. But judgment came, and overshadowed us; And one quick bolt shot from the awful cloud Severed the tie that bound two worthless lives. What God hath joined together, God may part:-- Grace, have you thought of that? _Grace_. You scare me, Mary! Nay! Do not turn on me with such a look! Its dread suggestion gives my heart a pang That stops its painful beating. _Mary_. Let it pass! One morn we woke with the first flush of light, Our windows jarring with the cannonade That ushered in the nation's festal day. The village streets were full of men and boys, And resonant with rattling mimicry Of the black-throated monsters on the hill,-- A crashing, crepitating war of fire,-- And as we listened to the fitful feud, Dull detonations came from far away, Pulsing along the fretted atmosphere, To tell that in the ruder villages The day had noisy greeting, as in ours. I know not why it was, but then, and there, I felt a sinking sadness, passing tears-- A dark foreboding I could not dissolve, Nor drive away. But when, next morn, I woke In the sweet stillness of the Sabbath day, And found myself alone, I knew that hearts Which once have been God's temple, and in which Something divine still lingers, feel the throb Along the lines that bind them to the Throne When judgment issues; and, though dumb and blind, Shudder and faint with prophecies of ill. How--by what cause--calamity should come, I could not guess; that it was imminent Seemed just as certain as the morning's dawn. We were to have a gala day, indeed. There were to be processions and parades; A great oration in a mammoth tent, With dinner following, and toast and speech By all the wordy magnates of the town; A grand balloon ascension afterwards; And, in the evening, fireworks on the hill. I knew that drink would flow from morn till night In a wild maelstrom, circling slow around The village rim, in bright careering waves, But growing turbulent, and changed to ink Around the village center, till, at last, The whirling, gurgling vortex would engulf A maddened multitude in drunkenness. And this was in my thought (the while my heart Was palpitating with its nameless fear), As, wrapped in vaguest dreams, and purposeless, I laced my shoe and gazed upon the sky. Then strange determination stirred in me; And, turning sharply on my chair, I said, "Edward, where'er you go to-day, I go!" If I had smitten him upon the face, It had not tingled with a hotter flame. He turned upon me with a look of hate-- A something worse than anger--and, with oaths, Raved like a fiend, and cursed me for a fool.