XXIII.

While thus she sat in musing mood, Determining her life's emprise, The sunlight flushed the distant wood, Then, coming closer, filled her eyes,

And glorified her solitude. The clouds were shivered by the lance Sped downward by the morning sun, And from her heart, in swift advance,

The shadows vanished, one by one, Till more than sunlight filled the manse. She closed the volume with a gust That sprent the light with powdered gold;

Then placed it high to hide and rust Where, curious and over-bold She found it, lying in its dust. Her soul was light, her path was plain;

One shadow only drooped above,— The shadow of a heart and brain So charged with overwhelming love That it oppressed and gave her pain.

The modest comb that kept her hair; To Philip was a golden crown; And every ringlet was a snare, And every hat, and every gown

And slipper, something more than fair. His love had glorified her grace, And she was his, and not her own,— So wholly his she had no place

Beside him on his lonely throne, Or share in love's divine embrace. And knowing that the coming days Would strip her features of their mask,

That duty then would speak her praise, And love become a loyal task, Save he should find beneath the glaze His fiery love of her had spread,

Diviner things he had not seen, She feared her woman's heart and head Were armed with charms and powers too mean To win the boon she coveted.

But still she saw and held her plan, And fear made way for springing hope. If she was man's, then hers was man: Both held their own in even scope;

And then and there her life began.