Sunk with the sound relaxedly; _1170 And slowly now he turned to me, As slowly faded from his face That awful joy: with looks serene He was soon drawn to my embrace, And my wild song then died away _1175 In murmurs: words I dare not say We mixed, and on his lips mine fed Till they methought felt still and cold: 'What is it with thee, love?' I said: No word, no look, no motion! yes, _1180 There was a change, but spare to guess, Nor let that moment's hope be told. I looked, and knew that he was dead, And fell, as the eagle on the plain Falls when life deserts her brain, _1185 And the mortal lightning is veiled again. O that I were now dead! but such (Did they not, love, demand too much, Those dying murmurs?) he forbade. O that I once again were mad! _1190 And yet, dear Rosalind, not so, For I would live to share thy woe. Sweet boy! did I forget thee too? Alas, we know not what we do When we speak words. No memory more _1195 Is in my mind of that sea shore. Madness came on me, and a troop Of misty shapes did seem to sit Beside me, on a vessel's poop, And the clear north wind was driving it. _1200 Then I heard strange tongues, and saw strange flowers, And the stars methought grew unlike ours, And the azure sky and the stormless sea Made me believe that I had died, And waked in a world, which was to me _1205 Drear hell, though heaven to all beside: Then a dead sleep fell on my mind, Whilst animal life many long years Had rescued from a chasm of tears; And when I woke, I wept to find _1210 That the same lady, bright and wise, With silver locks and quick brown eyes, The mother of my Lionel, Had tended me in my distress, And died some months before. Nor less _1215 Wonder, but far more peace and joy, Brought in that hour my lovely boy; For through that trance my soul had well The impress of thy being kept; And if I waked, or if I slept, _1220 No doubt, though memory faithless be, Thy image ever dwelt on me; And thus, O Lionel, like thee Is our sweet child. 'Tis sure most strange I knew not of so great a change, _1225 As that which gave him birth, who now Is all the solace of my woe.