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26
ROSALIND AND HELEN.

And then men owned they were the same.435
Seven days within my chamber lay
That corse, and my babes made holiday:
At last, I told them what is death:
The eldest, with a kind of shame,
Came to my knees with silent breath,440
And sate awe-stricken[1] at my feet;
And soon the others left their play,
And sate there too. It is unmeet
To shed on the brief flower of youth
The withering knowledge of the grave;445
From me remorse then wrung that truth.
I could not bear the joy which gave
Too just a response to mine own.
In vain. I dared not feign a groan;
And in their artless looks I saw,450
Between the mists of fear and awe,
That my own thought was theirs; and they
Expressed it not in words, but said,
Each in its heart, how every day
Will pass in happy work and play,455
Now he is dead and gone away.

After the funeral all our kin
Assembled, and the will was read.
My friend, I tell thee, even the dead
Have strength, their putrid shrouds within,460
To blast and torture. Those who live
Still fear the living, but a corse
Is merciless, and Power[2] doth give
To such pale tyrants half the spoil
He rends from those who groan and toil,465
Because they blush not with remorse

  1. Mis-spelt awe-striken in the original edition.
  2. Power is spelt with a small p in Shelley's edition.