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The heir of Rookwood.
To my form they turned,
Yet spake no wonder. Vacant, cold, they wandered
Over the wild bright firmament. Sweet angels!
Where had I seen that look in Lilia's eyes?
Betwixt the dreamer and my soul there glided
A picture strange yet fair—Rookwood's old hall
Half gloom, half firelight; by the chimney corner
A crowd of wondering varlets; at the door
My mother with a smile upon her lip;
And on the oaken stair, her chamber taper
Lit in her hand, and her unconscious eyes
Fast held by sleep, a child in flowing night-robes!
The vision faded from me—then—'twas done
Ere I could breathe—her white arms tossed aloft,
Lilia sprang forward. Through the moonlight flitted
That lightest form. The parted waves laughed out
Embracing her—the lilies closed above.
Yet spake no wonder. Vacant, cold, they wandered
Over the wild bright firmament. Sweet angels!
Where had I seen that look in Lilia's eyes?
Betwixt the dreamer and my soul there glided
A picture strange yet fair—Rookwood's old hall
Half gloom, half firelight; by the chimney corner
A crowd of wondering varlets; at the door
My mother with a smile upon her lip;
And on the oaken stair, her chamber taper
Lit in her hand, and her unconscious eyes
Fast held by sleep, a child in flowing night-robes!
The vision faded from me—then—'twas done
Ere I could breathe—her white arms tossed aloft,
Lilia sprang forward. Through the moonlight flitted
That lightest form. The parted waves laughed out
Embracing her—the lilies closed above.
'Twas then I woke—from rock to rock mad leaping,
A lion's strength was raging in my limbs.
The smiling waves received me. In their arms,
Oh what a fight with death! Down those cool depths
A lion's strength was raging in my limbs.
The smiling waves received me. In their arms,
Oh what a fight with death! Down those cool depths
