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mesmerism.
XXX.
It was my work. He warned me, yet I spoke.
Mine all the guilt, the pain.
I tell you 'twas my voice, my voice which broke
Her sleep's magnetic chain.
It was thus planned by him to add
A pang—oh no, I am not mad!
Mine all the guilt, the pain.
I tell you 'twas my voice, my voice which broke
Her sleep's magnetic chain.
It was thus planned by him to add
A pang—oh no, I am not mad!
XXXI.
In vain. I will not think of him. I bore
Her home, my arms close round
That pallid form, while from her lips gushed o'er
Her blood upon the ground.
He loved her—knew she was my bride;
Lost thus to him. Enough, she died!
Her home, my arms close round
That pallid form, while from her lips gushed o'er
Her blood upon the ground.
He loved her—knew she was my bride;
Lost thus to him. Enough, she died!
XXXII.
That dull, dead sound—that broken heart that burst,
O'ercharged as it had been
By that strange life—and he with skill accursed
The end had all foreseen—
That plashing sound, I hear it yet,
Still with that stain my lips are wet!
O'ercharged as it had been
By that strange life—and he with skill accursed
The end had all foreseen—
That plashing sound, I hear it yet,
Still with that stain my lips are wet!
