In truth I loved even to my overthrow _405 Her, who would fain forget these words: but they Cling to her mind, and cannot pass away. ... 'You say that I am proud--that when I speak My lip is tortured with the wrongs which break The spirit it expresses...Never one _410 Humbled himself before, as I have done! Even the instinctive worm on which we tread Turns, though it wound not--then with prostrate head Sinks in the dusk and writhes like me--and dies? No: wears a living death of agonies! _415 As the slow shadows of the pointed grass Mark the eternal periods, his pangs pass, Slow, ever-moving,--making moments be As mine seem--each an immortality! ... 'That you had never seen me--never heard _420 My voice, and more than all had ne'er endured The deep pollution of my loathed embrace-- That your eyes ne'er had lied love in my face-- That, like some maniac monk, I had torn out The nerves of manhood by their bleeding root _425 With mine own quivering fingers, so that ne'er Our hearts had for a moment mingled there To disunite in horror--these were not With thee, like some suppressed and hideous thought Which flits athwart our musings, but can find _430 No rest within a pure and gentle mind... Thou sealedst them with many a bare broad word, And searedst my memory o'er them,--for I heard And can forget not...they were ministered One after one, those curses. Mix them up _435 Like self-destroying poisons in one cup, And they will make one blessing which thou ne'er Didst imprecate for, on me,--death. ... 'It were A cruel punishment for one most cruel, If such can love, to make that love the fuel _440 Of the mind's hell; hate, scorn, remorse, despair: But ME--whose heart a stranger's tear might wear As water-drops the sandy fountain-stone, Who loved and pitied all things, and could moan For woes which others hear not, and could see _445 The absent with the glance of phantasy, And with the poor and trampled sit and weep, Following the captive to his dungeon deep; ME--who am as a nerve o'er which do creep The else unfelt oppressions of this earth, _450 And was to thee the flame upon thy hearth, When all beside was cold--that thou on me Shouldst rain these plagues of blistering agony-- Such curses are from lips once eloquent With love's too partial praise--let none relent _455 Who intend deeds too dreadful for a name Henceforth, if an example for the same They seek...for thou on me lookedst so, and so-- And didst speak thus...and thus...I live to show How much men bear and die not! ... 'Thou wilt tell _460 With the grimace of hate, how horrible It was to meet my love when thine grew less;