VII.

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

The Lady of his love;—Oh! she was changed

As by the sickness of the soul; her mind

Had wandered from its dwelling, and her eyes170

They had not their own lustre, but the look

Which is not of the earth; she was become

The Queen of a fantastic realm; her thoughts

Were combinations of disjointed things;

And forms, impalpable and unperceived

Of others' sight, familiar were to hers.

And this the world calls frenzy; but the wise

Have a far deeper madness—and the glance

Of melancholy is a fearful gift;

What is it but the telescope of truth?180

Which strips the distance of its fantasies,

And brings life near in utter nakedness,

Making the cold reality too real![j] [51]

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