3 Ah, love to speak was impotent, Till music did a tongue confer, And I ne’er knew what music meant, Until I danced to it with her. Too proud of the sustaining power Of my, till then, unblemish’d joy. My passion, for reproof, that hour Tasted mortality’s alloy, And bore me down an eddying gulf; I wish’d the world might run to wreck, So I but once might fling myself Obliviously about her neck. I press’d her hand, by will or chance I know not, but I saw the rays Withdrawn, which did till then enhance Her fairness with its thanks for praise. I knew my spirit’s vague offence Was patent to the dreaming eye And heavenly tact of innocence, And did for fear my fear defy, And ask’d her for the next dance. ‘Yes.’ ‘No,’ had not fall’n with half the force. She was fulfill’d with gentleness, And I with measureless remorse; And, ere I slept, on bended knee I own’d myself, with many a tear, Unseasonable, disorderly, And a deranger of love’s sphere; Gave thanks that, when we stumble and fall, We hurt ourselves, and not the truth; And, rising, found its brightness all The brighter through the tears of ruth. 4 Nor was my hope that night made less, Though order’d, humbled, and reproved; Her farewell did her heart express As much, but not with anger, moved. My trouble had my soul betray’d; And, in the night of my despair, My love, a flower of noon afraid, Divulged its fulness unaware. I saw she saw; and, O sweet Heaven, Could my glad mind have credited That influence had to me been given To affect her so, I should have said That, though she from herself conceal’d Love’s felt delight and fancied harm, They made her face the jousting field Of joy and beautiful alarm. CANTO XII. The Abdication. PRELUDES. I. _The Chace_.