The heir of Rookwood.
249
What frantic wrestling! Did the weeds below
Entangle her? I rose and dived again,
It seemed a thousand times. Then, spent and blind,
Sprang to the surface. From beneath the lilies
Gleamed out a face. I caught her from their net,
And flung my burden on the shore.
How long
Ere through her eyes' blue depths my Lilia's soul
Bloomed up again as lilies through the wave?
All wonder, shame, and joy, was in the face
That questioned mine. There, where my arms had twice
Plucked her from death's cold bosom, in that spot
Thick sown with lovely memories, as its banks
In spring with violets, she could not hide
Her heart from mine. 'Twas Ernestine had struck
The jarring chord. 'Twas Ernestine, whose pride
Let fall the hint that turned my Lilia's love
For one who had but gold to offer her,
Into deep shame; who whispered that she sold
Her loveliness to one who paid its price
Only for pity. 'Twas so slight a net
Had meshed our Cupid's feet. If Arthur, heir
Entangle her? I rose and dived again,
It seemed a thousand times. Then, spent and blind,
Sprang to the surface. From beneath the lilies
Gleamed out a face. I caught her from their net,
And flung my burden on the shore.
How long
Ere through her eyes' blue depths my Lilia's soul
Bloomed up again as lilies through the wave?
All wonder, shame, and joy, was in the face
That questioned mine. There, where my arms had twice
Plucked her from death's cold bosom, in that spot
Thick sown with lovely memories, as its banks
In spring with violets, she could not hide
Her heart from mine. 'Twas Ernestine had struck
The jarring chord. 'Twas Ernestine, whose pride
Let fall the hint that turned my Lilia's love
For one who had but gold to offer her,
Into deep shame; who whispered that she sold
Her loveliness to one who paid its price
Only for pity. 'Twas so slight a net
Had meshed our Cupid's feet. If Arthur, heir
