CONCLUSION. Bertram finished the last pages, while along the silence ever Still in hot and heavy splashes, fell his tears on every leaf: Having ended, he leans backward in his chair, with lips that quiver From the deep unspoken, ay, and deep unwritten thoughts of grief. Soh! how still the lady standeth! 'tis a dream—a dream of mercies! 'Twixt the purple lattice-curtains, how she standeth still and pale! 'Tis a vision, sure, of mercies, sent to soften his self curses Sent to sleep a lovely quiet, o'er the tossing of his wail. "Eyes," he said, "now throbbing through me! are ye eyes that did undo me? Shining eyes, like antique jewels set in Parian statue stone! Underneath that calm white forehead, are ye ever burning torrid, O'er the desolate sand-desert of my heart and life undone ?" With a rushing stir, uncertain, in the air, the purple curtain Swelleth in and swelleth out around her motionless pale brows ; While the gliding of the river sends a rippling noise for ever, Through the open casement whitened by the moonlight's slant repose. Said he " Vision of a lady! stand there silent, stand there steady! Now I see it plainly, plainly; now I cannot hope or doubt There, the cheeks of calm expression-there, the lips of silent passion, Curved like an archer's bow to send the bitter arrows out." Ever, evermore the while in a slow silence she kept smiling,― And approached him slowly, slowly, in a gliding measured pace; With her two white hands extended, as if praying one offended, And a look of supplication, gazing earnest in his face. Said he "Wake me by no gesture,―sound of breath, or stir of vesture; Let the blessed apparition melt not yet to its divine ! No approaching-hush! no breathing! or my heart must swoon to death in That too utter life thou bringest-0 thou dream of Geraldine!" Ever, evermore the while in a slow silence she kept smiling But the tears ran over lightly from her eyes, and tenderly; "Dost thou, Bertram, truly love me? Is no woman far above me, Found more worthy of thy poet-heart, than such a one as I?" Said he "I would dream so ever, like the flowing of that river, Flowing ever in a shadow, greenly onward to the sea; So, thou vision of all sweetness--princely to a full completeness, heart and life flow onward-deathwardthrough this dream of THEE!" Ever, evermore the while in a slow silence she kept smiling,― While the tears ran down still faster o'er the blushing of her cheeks: Then with both her hands enfolding both of his, she softly told him, 66 Bertram, if I say I love thee, only speaks." . 't is the vision Softened, quickened to adore her, on his knee he fell before her And she whispered low in triumph-“ It shall be as I have sworn! Very rich he is in virtues,--very noble-noble, certes; And I shall not blush in knowing, that men call him humbly born!" A VISION OF POETS. "O Sacred Essence, lighting me this hour, How may I lightly stile thy great power? Echo. Power. Power! but of whence? under the greenwood spraye? A POET could not sleep aright, For his soul kept up too much light Under his eyelids for the night: And thus he rose disquieted, With sweet rhymes ringing through his head, And in the forest wandered; Where, sloping up the darkest glades, To a faint silver pavement fair, |