Page:Foreign Tales and Traditions (Volume 1).djvu/414

And, through the mazes of the heart,
His power unseen, unfelt can creep,
Into the soul’s most hidden part,
Till it has traced its windings deep,
And triumphs in its citadel.
Who is he? ah! I need not tell!

That waveless calm was on her form
Which oft at sea succeeds the storm,
Through which are dimly floating seen
The signs of shipwreck and of death.
Long kept she her unvarying mien,
And drew with steady strength her breath,
Though there were pauses oft between,
Which spoke of something underneath
Her frozen patience, unsubdued,
Deep in her bosom’s solitude.

She struggled, but could not prevail;
The spring of her resolve ’gan fail,
And give her feelings play. She felt,
Beneath the music’s soft control,
The frost upon her spirit melt;
’Mid the soft light upon her soul,
Even as in seeming prayer she knelt,
Of earthly love a feeling stole,
Which grew and grew, and though her heart
Essayed to bid, would not depart.

Alas! what saw she, that the blood
Darts through her cheek its crimson flood?
See! fixed on her the visage pale
Of her once lov’d and lovely Gualter;
Over her eyes she flung the veil,
And tottered to the fatal altar;