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COUNTESS LAURA.
The favor of my presence in his Rome.I did not go; I put my fortune by.I need not ask you why: you knew too well.It was but natural, it was no way strange,That I should love you. Everything that saw,Or had its other senses, loved you, sweet,And I among them. Martyr, holy saint,—I see the halo curving round your head,—I loved you once; but now I worship you.For the great deed that held my love aloof,And killed you in the action! I absolveYour soul from any taint, For from the dayOf that encounter by the fountain-sideUntil this moment, never turned on meThose tender eyes, unless they did a wrongTo nature by the cold, defiant glareWith which they chilled me. Never heard I wordOf softness spoken by those gentle lips;Never received a bounty from that handWhich gave to all the world. I know the cause.You did your duty,—not for honor's sake,Nor to save sin or suffering or remorse,Or all the ghosts that haunt a woman's shame,But for the sake of that pure, loyal loveYour husband bore you. Queen, by grace of God,I bow before the lustre of your throne!I kiss the edges of your garment-hem,And held myself ennobled! Answer me,—If I had wronged you, you would answer meOut of the dusty porches of the tomb:—Is this a dream, a falsehood? or have ISpoken the very truth ?"—"The very truth!"A voice replied; and at his side he saw
