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which sits a dilapidated turban, droops for ever, for ever fastens on the dust. [240 She weeps not. She groans not. But she sighs inaudibly at intervals. Her sister, Madonna, is oftentimes stormy and frantic, raging in the highest against heaven, and demanding back her darlings. But Our Lady of Sighs never clamors, never defies, dreams not of rebellious aspirations. She is humble to abjectness. Hers is the meekness that belongs to the hopeless. Murmur she may, but it is in [250 her sleep. Whisper she may, but it is to herself in the twilight. Mutter she does at times, but it is in solitary places that are desolate as she is desolate, in ruined cities, and when the sun has gone down to his rest. This sister is the visitor of the Pariah, of the Jew, of the bondsman to the oar in the Mediterranean galleys; and of the English criminal in Norfolk Island, blotted out from the books of remem- [260 brance in sweet far-off England; of the baffled penitent reverting his eyes for ever upon a solitary grave, which to him seems the altar overthrown of some past and bloody sacrifice, on which altar no oblations can now be availing, whether towards pardon that he might implore, or towards reparation that he might attempt. Every slave that at noonday looks up to the tropical sun with timid re- [270 proach, as he points with one hand to the earth, our general mother, but for him a stepmother, as he points with the other hand to the Bible, our general teacher, but against him sealed and sequestered; every woman sitting in darkness, without love to shelter her head, or hope to illumine her solitude, because the heavenborn instincts kindling in her nature germs of holy affections which God [280 implanted in her womanly bosom, having been stifled by social necessities, now burn sullenly to waste, like sepulchral lamps amongst the ancients; every nun defrauded of her unreturning May-time by wicked kinsman, whom God will judge; every captive in every dungeon; all that are betrayed and all that are rejected; outcasts by traditionary law, and children of hereditary disgrace,-[290 all these walk with Our Lady of Sighs. She also carries a key; but she needs it

little. For her kingdom is chiefly amongst the tents of Shem, and the houseless vagrant of every clime. Yet in the very highest ranks of man she finds chapels of her own; and even in glorious England there are some that, to the world, carry their heads as proudly as the reindeer, who yet secretly have received her [300 mark upon their foreheads.

But the third sister, who is also the youngest! Hush, whisper whilst we talk of her! Her kingdom is not large, or else no flesh should live; but within that kingdom all power is hers. Her head, turreted like that of Cybele, rises almost beyond the reach of sight. She droops not; and her eyes rising so high might be hidden by distance; but, being what [310 they are, they cannot be hidden; through the treble veil of crape which she wears, the fierce light of a blazing misery, that rests not for matins or for vespers, for noon of day or noon of night, for ebbing or for flowing tide, may be read from the very ground. She is the defier of God. She also is the mother of lunacies, and the suggestress of suicides. Deep lie the roots of her power; but narrow is the [320 nation that she rules. For she can approach only those in whom a profound nature has been upheaved by central convulsions; in whom the heart trembles, and the brain rocks under conspiracies of tempest from without and tempest from within. Madonna moves with uncertain steps, fast or slow, but still with tragic grace. Our Lady of Sighs creeps timidly and stealthily. But [330 this youngest sister moves with incalculable motions, bounding, and with tiger's leaps. She carries no key; for, though coming rarely amongst men, she storms all doors at which she is permitted to enter at all. And her name is Mater Tenebrarum-Our Lady of Darkness.

These were the Semnai Theai, or Sublime Goddesses, these were the Eumenides, or Gracious Ladies (so called by an- [340 tiquity in shuddering propitiation), of my Oxford dreams. Madonna spoke. She spoke by her mysterious hand. Touching my head, she beckoned to Our Lady of Sighs; and what she spoke, translated out of the signs which (ex

cept in dreams) no man reads, was this:

"Lo! here is he, whom in childhood I dedicated to my altars. This is he [350 that once I made my darling. Him I led astray, him I beguiled, and from heaven I stole away his young heart to mine. Through me did he become idolatrous; and through me it was, by languishing desires, that he worshipped the worm, and prayed to the wormy grave. Holy was the grave to him; lovely was its darkness; saintly its corruption. Him, this young idolater, I have seasoned for [360 thee, dear gentle Sister of Sighs! Do thou take him now to thy heart, and season him for our dreadful sister. And thou,"turning to the Mater Tenebrarum, she

said, "wicked sister, that temptest and hatest, do thou take him from her. See that thy sceptre lie heavy on his head. Suffer not woman and her tenderness to sit near him in his darkness. Banish the frailties of hope, wither the relenting [370 of love, scorch the fountains of tears, curse him as only thou canst curse. So shall he be accomplished in the furnace, so shall he see the things that ought not to be seen, sights that are abominable, and secrets that are unutterable. So shall he read elder truths, sad truths, grand truths, fearful truths. So shall he rise again before he dies, and so shall our commission be accomplished which from [380 God we had,-to plague his heart until we had unfolded the capacities of his spirit."

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"Artemidora! Gods invisible,

ONE YEAR AGO

One year ago my path was green,

While thou art lying faint along the My footstep light, my brow serene;

couch,

Alas! and could it have been so
One year ago?

There is a love that is to last

Have tied the sandal to thy slender feet
And stand beside thee, ready to convey
Thy weary steps where other rivers flow. 5
Refreshing shades will waft thy weariness When the hot days of youth are past:
Away, and voices like thy own come near
And nearer, and solicit an embrace."
Artemidora sighed, and would have
pressed

The hand now pressing hers, but was too
weak.

ΙΟ

Iris stood over her dark hair unseen
While thus Elpenor spake. He looked

into

Eyes that had given light and life erewhile

To those above them, but now dim with

tears

And wakefulness. Again he spake of joy 15 Eternal. At that word, that sad word, joy,

Faithful and fond her bosom heaved once

more:

Such love did a sweet maid bestow

One year ago.

5

ΙΟ

I took a leaflet from her braid
And gave it to another maid.
Love! broken should have been thy bow
One year ago.

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Her head fell back; and now a loud deep Therefore on him no speech! and brief for sob

thee,

Swelled through the darkened chamber; Browning! Since Chaucer was alive and hale,

'twas not hers.

566

No man hath walked about our roads with Might he not also hear one word amiss, Spoken from so far off, even from Olym

step

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So long a silence seemed the approach of death,

And like it. Once again she raised her

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"O father! if the ships are now detained,

1

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