This is no bull, although it sounds so; for

'T was night, but there were lamps, as hath been said.

A third's all pallid aspect offered more

The traits of sleeping sorrow, and betrayed

Through the heaved breast the dream of some far shore

Belovéd and deplored; while slowly strayed

(As night-dew, on a cypress glittering, tinges

The black bough) tear-drops through her eyes' dark fringes.