Then, from its shelter on his breast, the dove 60 Rose, and sail'd slow before with doubtful wing; The dun mists rolling round the vaults above, Below, the gulf with torch-fires crimsoning; Wan through the glare, or white amidst the gloom, Glanced Heaven's mute daughter with the silver plume. Meanwhile to AEgle: from the happier trance, 61 And from the stun of the first human ill Labouring returns her soul!--As lightnings glance O'er battle-fields, with sated slaughter still, The fitful reason flickering comes and goes O'er the past struggle--o'er the blank repose. At length with one long, eager, searching look, 62 She gazed around, and all the living space With one great loss seem'd lifeless!--then she strook Her clench'd hand on her heart; and o'er her face Settled ineffable that icy gloom, Which only falls when hope abandons doom. Why breaks the smile--why waves the exulting hand? 63 Why to the threshold moves that step serene? The brow superb awes back the maiden band, From the roused woman towers sublime the queen. She pass'd the isle--and beam'd upon the crowd, Bright as the May-moon when it bursts the cloud. Brief and imperious rings her question; quick 64 A hundred hands point, answering, to the fane. As on she sweeps, behind her, fast and thick, Gather the groups far following in her train. Behind some bird unknown, of glorious dyes, So swarm the meaner people of the skies. Oh, the great force, that sleeps in woman's heart! 65 She will, at least, behold that form once more; See its last vestige from her world depart, And mark the spot to haunt and wander o'er, Rased in that impulse of the human breast All the cold lessons on its leaves impress'd;-- Snapp'd in the strength of the divine desire 66 All the vain swathes with which convention thralls;-- Nature breaks forth, and at her breath of fire The elaborate snow-pile's molten temple falls; And meaner priestcrafts fly before that Truth, Whose name is Passion, and whose altar, Youth! Unknown the egress, dreamless of the snare, 67 Sole aim to look the last on the adored: She gains the fane--she treads the aisle--and there The deathlights guide her to the bridal lord; On, through pale groups around the yawning cave, She comes--and looks upon the livid wave. She comes--she sees afar amidst the dark, 68 That fair, serene, undaunted, godlike brow-- Sees on the lurid deep the lonely bark Drift through the circling horror;--sees, and now On light's far verge it hovers, wanes, and fades, As roars the hungering cataract up the shades.