XIII. Whence came the tremor, The flush and the start? What sent the dancing blood He saw as if mirror'd, That he might behold, Phantoms of Pride and Hope, Glory and Gold; Phantoms that dazzled him All his life long, Leading him, tempting him, Luring him wrong. XIV. He saw his dark scroll of life Bared to his sight, C Spreading before him In darkness or light, All his heart's history, All his thought's mystery; Back through the years To the dim distance Of his first tears; Back to the early days, When a fair boy, Spotless and artless He carolled in joy, Plaiting green rushes, And gathering flowers, Full of wild fancies As April of showers; Back to the happy time, Crowned with his youth, When his heart's visions Were Beauty and Truth; Back to his moonlights, His yearnings and sighs, When the best Heaven he sought Lay in a maiden's thought, Or her blue eyes; Back to the darkness Clouding his morn; Darkness and discord, And longings forlorn, Errors and frailties And sufferings keen, With flashes of gladness And glory between. XV. Moodily, sullenly Watching the tide, Still the bad angel Stood at his side; c 2 |