A star that with the choral starry dance Back on herself her serpent pride had curled. "No voice," she shrieked in that lone hall, "No voice breaks through the stillness of this world: One deep, deep silence all!" She, mouldering with the dull earth's mouldering sod, Lay there exiled from eternal God, And death and life she hated equally, Remaining utterly confused with fears, And all alone in crime: Shut up as in a crumbling tomb, girt round Far off she seemed to hear the dully sound As in strange lands a traveller walking slow, A little before moon-rise hears the low And knows not if it be thunder or a sound She howled aloud, "I am on fire within. So when four years were wholly finished, "Make me a cottage in the vale,” she said, "Yet pull not down my palace towers, that are So lightly, beautifully built: Perchance I may return with others there LADY CLARA VERE DE VERE. LADY Clara Vere de Vere, Of me you shall not win renown; Lady Clara Vere de Vere, I know you proud to bear your name; Your pride is yet no mate for mine, Too proud to care from whence I came. Nor would I break for your sweet sake A heart that dotes on truer charms. A simple maiden in her flower Is worth a hundred coats-of-arms. Lady Clara Vere de Vere, Some meeker pupil you must find, Lady Clara Vere de Vere, You put strange memories in my head. But there was that across his throat Lady Clara Vere de Vere, When thus he met his mother's view, She had the passions of her kind, She spake some certain truths of Indeed, I heard one bitter word That scarce is fit for you to hear; Her manners had not that repose you. Which stamps the caste of Vere de Vere. |