A man he was whom man had driven To loathe the earth and doubt the heaven; A tyrant foe (beloved in youth) Had call'd the law to crush the truth; Stripp'd hearth and home, and left to shame The broken heart--the blacken'd name. Dark exile from his kindred, then, He hail'd the rock, the lonely wild: Upon the man at war with men The frown of Nature smiled. V. But suns on suns had roll'd away; The frame was bow'd, the locks were grey: And the eternal sea and sky Seem'd one still death to that dead eye; And Terror, like a spectre, rose From the dull tomb of that repose. No sight, no sound, of human-kind; The hours, like drops upon the stone! What countless phantoms man may find In that dark word--"ALONE!" VI. Dreams of blue Heaven and Hope can dwell With Thraldom in its narrowest cell; The airy mind may pierce the bars, Elude the chain, and hail the stars: Canst thou no drearier dungeon guess In _space_, when space is loneliness? The body's freedom profits none, The heart desires an equal scope; All nature is a gaol to one Who knows nor love nor hope! VII. One day, all summer in the sky, A happy crew came gliding by, With songs of mirth, and looks of glee-- A human sunbeam o'er the sea! "O Warder of the Beacon," cried A noble youth, the helm beside, "This summer-day how canst thou bear To guard thy smileless rock alone, And through the hum of Nature hear No heart-beat, save thine own?" VIII. "I cannot bear to live alone, To hear no heart-heat, save my own; Each moment, on this crowded earth, The joy-bells ring some new-born birth; Can ye not spare one form--but one, The lowest--least beneath the sun, To make the morning musical With welcome from a human sound?" "Nay," spake the youth,--"and is that all? Thy comrade shall be found." IX. The boat sail'd on, and o'er the main The awe of silence closed again; But in the wassail hours of night, When goblets go their rounds of light, And in the dance, and by the side Of her, yon moon shall mark his bride, Before that Child of Pleasure rose, The lonely rock--the lonelier one, A haunting spectre--till he knows The human wish is won! X. Low-murmuring round the turret's base Wave glides on wave its gentle chase; Lone on the rock, the warder hears The oar's faint music--hark! it nears-- It gains the rock; the rower's hand Aids a gray, time-worn form to land. "Behold the comrade sent to thee!" He said--then went. And in that place The Twain were left; and Misery And Guilt stood face to face! XI.