With that soft eye and gentle brow !
That thought came on me, as a blight

Of many years : — Thy father's blood
Was on my hand ! — All — all was night,

And chill'd, and statue-like I stood !
'Twas true, he fell in dark disgrace —
But still it was her father's face
Which coldly, darkly threatened there,
And bade, in silence*— to despair !

** And there I stood— and when the cry
Of blood arose, all wild and high —
When * blood for blood' was all the sound
Of the base rabble closing round —
I calmly sheath'd my smoking brand ;
And when they knew the fierce brigand,
I did not heed their joyiul shout,
For all my soul was welling out —



MILENO. 69

Not from the pricking's of his blades-
Mere scratches were the wounds it made,
And faint his nerveless weapon fell,
Or I had not this tale to tell !

*' But that fair being then to me
Was as a form of memory !
A lovely, yet a shrouded thing —
For, thinkest thou that I could bring
This hand, which bade lier father die.
To meet that meek, upbraiding eye! —

** Bernardi — from that fearful day

My failing spirit turns away! —

I thought — and thought — and glimpses oamc

Of hideous thing— of blood and flame !

My brain grew wild, and tempest*tost,

But sense was not yet wholly lost.
And weeks went by in that wild dream,

And, now and then, a fitful gleam *



66 MILENO.
Tes, madness darkened o'er my thought.
