And I dreamed it would be bliss to live
Forever at his feet,
At the feet of him whose eloquence
Was so strangely grand and sweet!
But a sudden thought dashed on my brain,
The thought of that night in June,
When a boy stood on the river bank,
Beneath the midnight moon;
And I knew the son of fame was he
I had known in years agone!
Then I thought of the girl with the dreamy eyes,
But ere my thoughts were shaped,
I seemed to stand beside a bier
With sable velvet draped;
And a man knelt there in agony,
Of which no sound escaped.
And I seemed to read the hidden past
As it were from out a book;
I knew full well why that strong man
In such mute anguish shook;
And I shrunk away from him, nor dared
Upon his grief to look.
He was the boasted idol-shrine
Round which a nation bowed;
And the wild acclaim of worshipers—
The blinding incense-cloud—
Had hidden too long the idolater
Now folded in her shroud.
Another change—and a noble man,
With brow of kingly pride,
Trod proudly through a glittering throng
With a fair girl by his side;
And I knew by her snowy vail and wreath
She was a youthful bride.
