THE RING.
97
What now hath Agatha at home?
And she has left it lone to roam.
But evil thoughts are on her, now
Sweeps the dark shadow o'er her brow.
What doth she forth at such an hour,
When hath the fallen fiend his power?
On through the black-pine forest she pass'd:
Drearily moan'd around her the blast;
Hot and heavy the thick boughs grew,
Till even with pain her breath she drew;
Flicker'd the moonlight over her path,
As the clouds had gather'd together in wrath,
Like the vague hopes whose false lures give birth
To one half the miseries haunting our earth.
H
