And saw the motion of all other things; While her words, syllable by syllable, Like water, drop by drop, upon my ear Fell, and I wish'd, yet wish'd her not to speak, But she spoke on, for I did name no wish. What marvel my Camilla told me all Her maiden dignities of Hope and Love, 'Perchance' she said 'return'd.' Even then the stars Did tremble in their stations as I gazed; But she spake on, for I did name no wish, No wish--no hope. Hope was not wholly dead, But breathing hard at the approach of Death, Updrawn in expectation of her change-- Camilla, my Camilla, who was mine No longer in the dearest use of mine-- The written secrets of her inmost soul Lay like an open scroll before my view, And my eyes read, they read aright, her heart Was Lionel's: it seem'd as tho' a link Of some light chain within my inmost frame Was riven in twain: that life I heeded not Flow'd from me, and the darkness of the grave, The darkness of the grave and utter night, Did swallow up my vision: at her feet, Even the feet of her I loved, I fell, Smit with exceeding sorrow unto death. Then had the earth beneath me yawning given Sign of convulsion; and tho' horrid rifts Sent up the moaning of unhappy spirits Imprison'd in her centre, with the heat Of their infolding element; had the angels, The watchers at heaven's gate, push'd them apart, And from the golden threshold had down-roll'd Their heaviest thunder, I had lain as still, And blind and motionless as then I lay! White as quench'd ashes, cold as were the hopes Of my lorn love! What happy air shall woo The wither'd leaf fall'n in the woods, or blasted Upon this bough? a lightning stroke had come Even from that Heaven in whose light I bloom'd And taken away the greenness of my life, The blossom and the fragrance. Who was cursed But I? who miserable but I? even Misery Forgot herself in that extreme distress, And with the overdoing of her part Did fall away into oblivion. The night in pity took away my day Because my grief as yet was newly born, Of too weak eyes to look upon the light, And with the hasty notice of the ear, Frail life was startled from the tender love Of him she brooded over. Would I had lain Until the pleached ivy tress had wound Round my worn limbs, and the wild briar had driven Its knotted thorns thro' my unpaining brows Leaning its roses on my faded eyes. The wind had blown above me, and the rain Had fall'n upon me, and the gilded snake Had nestled in this bosomthrone of love, But I had been at rest for evermore. Long time entrancement held me: all too soon, Life (like a wanton too-officious friend Who will not hear denial, vain and rude With proffer of unwished for services) Entering all the avenues of sense, Pass'd thro' into his citadel, the brain With hated warmth of apprehensiveness: And first the chillness of the mountain stream