VI.

A change came o'er the spirit of my dream.

The Wanderer was returned.—I saw him stand

Before an Altar—with a gentle bride;

Her face was fair, but was not that which made

The Starlight[49] of his Boyhood;—as he stood

Even at the altar, o'er his brow there came

The self-same aspect, and the quivering shock[50]150

That in the antique Oratory shook

His bosom in its solitude; and then—

As in that hour—a moment o'er his face

The tablet of unutterable thoughts

Was traced,—and then it faded as it came,

And he stood calm and quiet, and he spoke

The fitting vows, but heard not his own words,

And all things reeled around him; he could see

Not that which was, nor that which should have been—

But the old mansion, and the accustomed hall,160

And the remembered chambers, and the place,

The day, the hour, the sunshine, and the shade,

All things pertaining to that place and hour

And her who was his destiny, came back

And thrust themselves between him and the light:

What business had they there at such a time?

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