LXII. She woke at length, but not as sleepers wake, Rather the dead, for Life seemed something new, A strange sensation which she must partake Perforce, since whatsoever met her view Struck not on memory, though a heavy ache Lay at her heart, whose earliest beat still true Brought back the sense of pain without the cause, For, for a while, the Furies made a pause. LXIII. She looked on many a face with vacant eye, On many a token without knowing what: She saw them watch her without asking why, And recked not who around her pillow sat; Not speechless, though she spoke not--not a sigh Relieved her thoughts--dull silence and quick chat Were tried in vain by those who served; she gave No sign, save breath, of having left the grave. LXIV. Her handmaids tended, but she heeded not; Her Father watched, she turned her eyes away; She recognised no being, and no spot, However dear or cherished in their day; They changed from room to room--but all forgot-- Gentle, but without memory she lay; At length those eyes, which they would fain be weaning Back to old thoughts, waxed full of fearful meaning. LXV. And then a slave bethought her of a harp; The harper came, and tuned his instrument; At the first notes, irregular and sharp, On him her flashing eyes a moment bent, Then to the wall she turned as if to warp Her thoughts from sorrow through her heart re-sent; And he began a long low island-song Of ancient days, ere Tyranny grew strong. LXVI. Anon her thin wan fingers beat the wall In time to his old tune: he changed the theme, And sung of Love; the fierce name struck through all Her recollection; on her flashed the dream Of what she was, and is, if ye could call To be so being; in a gushing stream The tears rushed forth from her o'erclouded brain, Like mountain mists at length dissolved in rain. LXVII. Short solace, vain relief!--Thought came too quick, And whirled her brain to madness; she arose As one who ne'er had dwelt among the sick, And flew at all she met, as on her foes; But no one ever heard her speak or shriek, Although her paroxysm drew towards its close;-- Hers was a frenzy which disdained to rave, Even when they smote her, in the hope to save. LXVIII. Yet she betrayed at times a gleam of sense; Nothing could make her meet her Father's face, Though on all other things with looks intense She gazed, but none she ever could retrace; Food she refused, and raiment; no pretence Availed for either; neither change of place, Nor time, nor skill, nor remedy, could give her Senses to sleep--the power seemed gone for ever.