With poison of their own to point the shaft; And this my one kind sister thought, yet loth Confessed she feared ’twas true you had been wroth. But here you are, and smile on me: my pain Is gone, and Constance is herself again.’ His ecstasy, it may be guessed, was much: Yet pain’s extreme and pleasure’s seemed to touch. What pride! embracing beauty’s perfect mould; What terror! lest his few rash words, mistold, Had agonised her pulse to fever’s heat: But calmed again so soon it healthful beat, And such sweet tones were in her voice’s sound, Composed herself, she breathed composure round. “Fair being! with what sympathetic grace She heard, bewailed, and pleaded Julia’s case; Implored he would her dying wish attend, ‘And go,’ she said, ‘to-morrow with your friend; I’ll wait for your return on England’s shore, And then we’ll cross the deep, and part no more.’ “To-morrow both his soul’s compassion drew To Julia’s call, and Constance urged anew That not to heed her now would be to bind A load of pain for life upon his mind. He went with Udolph—from his Constance went— Stifling, alas! a dark presentiment Some ailment lurked, e’en whilst she smiled, to mock His fears of harm from yester-morning’s shock. Meanwhile a faithful page he singled out, To watch at home, and follow straight his route, If aught of threatened change her health should show: With Udolph then he reached the house of woe. “That winter’s eve how darkly Nature’s brow Scowled on the scenes it lights so lovely now! The tempest, raging o’er the realms of ice, Shook fragments from the rifted precipice; And whilst their falling echoed to the wind, The wolf’s long howl in dismal discord joined, While white yon water’s foam was raised in clouds That whirled like spirits wailing in their shrouds: Without was Nature’s elemental din— And beauty died, and friendship wept, within!