I’ll tell thee truth. He was a man Hard, selfish, loving only gold, Yet full of guile; his pale eyes ran _250 With tears, which each some falsehood told, And oft his smooth and bridled tongue Would give the lie to his flushing cheek; He was a coward to the strong: He was a tyrant to the weak, _255 On whom his vengeance he would wreak: For scorn, whose arrows search the heart, From many a stranger’s eye would dart, And on his memory cling, and follow His soul to its home so cold and hollow. _260 He was a tyrant to the weak, And we were such, alas the day! Oft, when my little ones at play, Were in youth’s natural lightness gay, Or if they listened to some tale _265 Of travellers, or of fairy land,— When the light from the wood-fire’s dying brand Flashed on their faces,—if they heard Or thought they heard upon the stair His footstep, the suspended word _270 Died on my lips: we all grew pale: The babe at my bosom was hushed with fear If it thought it heard its father near; And my two wild boys would near my knee Cling, cowed and cowering fearfully. _275 I’ll tell thee truth: I loved another. His name in my ear was ever ringing, His form to my brain was ever clinging: Yet if some stranger breathed that name, My lips turned white, and my heart beat fast: _280 My nights were once haunted by dreams of flame, My days were dim in the shadow cast By the memory of the same! Day and night, day and night, He was my breath and life and light, _285 For three short years, which soon were passed. On the fourth, my gentle mother Led me to the shrine, to be His sworn bride eternally. And now we stood on the altar stair, _290 When my father came from a distant land, And with a loud and fearful cry Rushed between us suddenly. I saw the stream of his thin gray hair, I saw his lean and lifted hand, _295 And heard his words,—and live! Oh God! Wherefore do I live?—‘Hold, hold!’ He cried, ‘I tell thee ’tis her brother! Thy mother, boy, beneath the sod Of yon churchyard rests in her shroud so cold: _300 I am now weak, and pale, and old: We were once dear to one another, I and that corpse! Thou art our child!’ Then with a laugh both long and wild The youth upon the pavement fell: _305 They found him dead! All looked on me, The spasms of my despair to see: But I was calm. I went away: I was clammy-cold like clay! I did not weep: I did not speak: _310 But day by day, week after week, I walked about like a corpse alive! Alas! sweet friend, you must believe This heart is stone: it did not break.