Died in the ashes of humanity; And the mere man rocked to and fro again Upon the centre of his wavering heart. He put aside his palette, as if thus He stepped from sacred vestments, and assumed A mortal function in the common world. "Now for my rights!" he muttered, and approached The noble body. "O lily of the world! So withered, yet so lovely! what wast thou To those who came thus near thee--for I stood Without the pale of thy half-royal rank-- When thou wast budding, and the streams of life Made eager struggles to maintain thy bloom, And gladdened heaven dropped down in gracious dews On its transplanted darling? Hear me now! I say this but in justice, not in pride, Not to insult thy high nobility, But that the poise of things in God's own sight May be adjusted, and hereafter I May urge a claim that all the powers of heaven Shall sanction, and with clarions blow abroad. Laura, you loved me! Look not so severe, With your cold brows, and deadly, close-drawn lips! You proved it, Countess, when you died for it,-- Let it consume you in the wearing strife It fought with duty in your ravaged heart. I knew it ever since that summer-day I painted Lila, the pale beggar's child, At rest beside the fountain; when I felt-- Oh, heaven!--the warmth and moisture of your breath Blow through my hair, as with your eager soul-- Forgetting soul and body go as one-- You leaned across my easel till our cheeks-- Ah, me! 'twas not your purpose--touched, and clung! Well, grant 'twas genius; and is genius nought? I ween it wears as proud a diadem-- Here, in this very world--as that you wear. A king has held my palette, a grand-duke Has picked my brush up, and a pope has begged The favor of my presence in his Rome. I did not go; I put my fortune by. I need not ask you why: you knew too well. It was but natural, it was no way strange, That I should love you. Everything that saw, Or had its other senses, loved you, sweet! And I amongst them. Martyr, holy saint,-- I see the halo curving round your head,-- I loved you once; but now I worship you, For the great deed that held my love aloof, And killed you in the action! I absolve Your soul from any taint. For from the day Of that encounter by the fountain-side Until this moment, never turned on me Those tender eyes, unless they did a wrong To Nature by the cold, defiant glare With which they chilled me. Never heard I word Of softness spoken by those gentle lips; Never received a bounty from that hand Which gave to all the world. I know the cause. You did your duty,--not for honor's sake, Nor to save sin or suffering or remorse, Or all the ghosts that haunt a woman's shame, But for the sake of that pure, loyal love Your husband bore you. Queen, by grace of God,