17. Yes, many an eye with dizzy tears was dim, And oft I thought to clasp my own heart's brother, When I could feel the listener's senses swim, And hear his breath its own swift gaspings smother Even as my words evoked them--and another, _815 And yet another, I did fondly deem, Felt that we all were sons of one great mother; And the cold truth such sad reverse did seem As to awake in grief from some delightful dream. 18. Yes, oft beside the ruined labyrinth _820 Which skirts the hoary caves of the green deep, Did Laon and his friend, on one gray plinth, Round whose worn base the wild waves hiss and leap, Resting at eve, a lofty converse keep: And that this friend was false, may now be said _825 Calmly--that he like other men could weep Tears which are lies, and could betray and spread Snares for that guileless heart which for his own had bled. 19. Then, had no great aim recompensed my sorrow, I must have sought dark respite from its stress _830 In dreamless rest, in sleep that sees no morrow-- For to tread life's dismaying wilderness Without one smile to cheer, one voice to bless, Amid the snares and scoffs of human kind, Is hard--but I betrayed it not, nor less _835 With love that scorned return sought to unbind The interwoven clouds which make its wisdom blind. 20. With deathless minds which leave where they have passed A path of light, my soul communion knew; Till from that glorious intercourse, at last, _840 As from a mine of magic store, I drew Words which were weapons;--round my heart there grew The adamantine armour of their power; And from my fancy wings of golden hue Sprang forth--yet not alone from wisdom's tower, _845 A minister of truth, these plumes young Laon bore. 21. An orphan with my parents lived, whose eyes Were lodestars of delight, which drew me home When I might wander forth; nor did I prize Aught human thing beneath Heaven's mighty dome _850 Beyond this child; so when sad hours were come, And baffled hope like ice still clung to me, Since kin were cold, and friends had now become Heartless and false, I turned from all, to be, Cythna, the only source of tears and smiles to thee. _855 22. What wert thou then? A child most infantine, Yet wandering far beyond that innocent age In all but its sweet looks and mien divine; Even then, methought, with the world's tyrant rage A patient warfare thy young heart did wage, _860 When those soft eyes of scarcely conscious thought Some tale, or thine own fancies, would engage To overflow with tears, or converse fraught With passion, o'er their depths its fleeting light had wrought.