Was all a dream? To think that all was dreamt Were now the happier thought; but arguing o'er That dream it was, she fell from her attempt, Feeling the wifely burden that she bore. Nay, true, 'twas true. She had had all and lost; The joy, the reckless wrong, the heavy cost Were hers, the dead end now, and woe in store. 4 What to be done? Fainting and shelterless Upon the mountain it were death to bide: And harbour knew she none, where her distress Might comfort find, or love's dishonour hide; Nor felt she any dread like that of home: Yet forth she must, albeit to rove and roam An outcast o'er the country far and wide. 5 Anon she marvel'd noting from the vale A path lead downward to the plain below, Crossing the very site, whereon the pale Of all her joy had stood few hours ago; A run of mountain beasts, that keep their track Through generations, and for ages back Had trod the self-same footing to and fro. 6 That would she try: so forth she took her way, Turning her face from the dishonour'd dell, Adown the broadening eastward lawns, which lay In gentle slant, till suddenly they fell In sheer cliff: whence the path that went around, Clomb by the bluffs, or e'er it downward wound Beneath that precipice impassable. 7 There once she turn'd, and gazing up the slope She bid the scene of all her joy adieu; 'Ay, and farewell,' she cried, 'farewell to hope, Since there is none will rescue me anew, Who have kill'd God's perfection with a doubt.' Which said, she took the path that led about, And hid the upland pleasance from her view. 8 But soon it left her, entering 'neath the shade Of cedar old and russeted tall pine, Whose mighty tops, seen from the thorny glade, Belted the hills about; and now no sign Had she to guide her, save the slow descent. But swiftly o'er the springy floor she went, And drew the odorous air like draughts of wine. 9 Then next she past a forest thick and dark With heavy ilexes and platanes high, And came to long lush grass; and now coud mark By many a token that the plain was nigh. When lo! a river: to whose brink at last Being come, upon the bank her limbs she cast, And through her sad tears watch'd the stream go by. 10 And now the thought came o'er her that in death There was a cure for sorrow, that before Her eyes ran Lethe, she might take one breath Of water and be freed for evermore. Leaning to look into her tomb, thereon She saw the horror of her image wan, And up she rose at height to leap from shore. 11