Vain thought! that hour of ne'er unravelled gloom

Came not again, or Lara could assume

A seeming of forgetfulness, that made

His vassals more amazed nor less afraid. 270

Had Memory vanished then with sense restored?

Since word, nor look, nor gesture of their lord

Betrayed a feeling that recalled to these

That fevered moment of his mind's disease.

Was it a dream? was his the voice that spoke

Those strange wild accents; his the cry that broke

Their slumber? his the oppressed, o'erlaboured heart

That ceased to beat, the look that made them start?

Could he who thus had suffered so forget,

When such as saw that suffering shudder yet? 280

Or did that silence prove his memory fixed

Too deep for words, indelible, unmixed

In that corroding secrecy which gnaws

The heart to show the effect, but not the cause?

Not so in him; his breast had buried both,

Nor common gazers could discern the growth

Of thoughts that mortal lips must leave half told;

They choke the feeble words that would unfold.