To him it seem'd a hollow voice That warn'd him of his doom; For the tree whereon the Raven sate Grew over the Pagan's tomb. VI. WHEN weariness would let her Into that wretched sleep she sunk Of her Father she was dreaming, Crown'd and in robes of light he came ; She saw he had found grace; And yet there seem'd to be A trouble in his face. The eye and look were still the same That she from her cradle knew ; And he put forth his hand, and blest her, As he had been wont to do. But then the smile benign And he cast on Eleëmon And sternly said, "I bless thee not, . Again to Cyra then he turn'd, "Hold fast thy hope, and Heaven will not Forsake thee in thine hour: Good Angels will be near thee, And evil ones shall fear thee, Perturb'd, yet comforted, she woke, The words were heard which promised her An odour, that refresh'd no less Was breathed around, and she surely found And, though the form revered was gone, A clear unearthly light Remain'd, encompassing the bed, When all around was night. It narrow'd as she gazed; And soon she saw it rest, Not doubting now the presence And rising half, the while in deep She drew the covering from his breast The small round blood-red mark she saw ; But in his sleep he groan'd, and cried The darkness of surrounding night Of day, and lay the while in prayer ... In fearful, miserable prayer; But while she pray'd the load of care Less heavily bore on her heart, And light was given, enabling her To choose her difficult part. And she drew, as comfortable texts But when the earliest dawn appear'd, "We have been visited this night! My Father's Ghost I have seen; I heard his voice, . . an aweful voice!.. And so hast thou, I ween!" Eleëmon was pale when he awoke ; And over his whole countenance Still he controll'd himself, and sought And forcing, while he answer'd her, "Cyra," he said, "thy thoughts possest With one too painful theme, Their own imaginations For reality misdeem; Let not my dearest best beloved, "O Eleëmon," she replied, "Thinkest thou there can be peace for me, Near to me as thou art, While some unknown and fearful sin I "Eleëmon, Eleëmon, may not let thee rest, Till thou hast wash'd away with tears The red spot from thy breast! |