dilate,
  And my aspiring soul dissolve in prayer
  Unto that Spirit of Love whose energies
  Were active round me, yet whose presence, sphered
  In the unsearchable, unbodied air,
  Made itself felt, but reigned invisible. 
  This ere the day that from my past divides
  My present, and that made me what I am. 
  Still can I see the hot, bright sky, the sea
  illimitably sparkling, as they showed
  That morning.  Though I deemed I took no note
  Of heaven or earth or waters, yet my mind
  Retains to-day the vivid portraiture
  Of every line and feature of the scene. 
  Light-hearted ’midst the dewy lanes I fared
  Unto the sea, whose jocund gleam I caught
  Between the slim boles, when I heard the clink
  Of naked weapons, then a sudden thrust
  Sickening to hear, and then a stifled groan;
  And pressing forward I beheld the sight
  That seared itself for ever on my brain—­
  My kinsman, Ser Ranieri, on the turf,
  Fallen upon his side, his bright young head
  Among the pine-spurs, and his cheek pressed close
  Unto the moist, chill sod:  his fingers clutched
  A handful of loose weeds and grass and earth,
  Uprooted in his anguish as he fell,
  And slowly from his heart the thick stream flowed,
  Fouling the green, leaving the fair, sweet face
  Ghastly, transparent, with blue, stony eyes
  Staring in blankness on that other one
  Who triumphed over him.  With hot desire
  Of instant vengeance I unsheathed my sword
  To rush upon the slayer, when he turned
  In his first terror of blood-guiltiness.

* * * * *

Within my heart a something snapped and brake. 
What was it but the chord of rapturous joy
For ever stilled?  I tottered and would fall,
Had I not leaned against the friendly pine;
For all realities of life, unmoored
From their firm anchorage, appeared to float
Like hollow phantoms past my dizzy brain. 
The strange delusion wrought upon my soul
That this had been enacted ages since. 
This very horror curdled at my heart,
This net of trees spread round, these iron heavens,
Were closing over me when I had stood,
Unnumbered cycles back, and fronted him,
My father; and he felt mine eyes as now,
Yet saw me not; and then, as now, that form,
The one thing real, lay stretched between us both. 
The fancy passed, and I stood sane and strong
To grasp the truth.  Then I remembered all—­
A few fierce words between them yester eve
Concerning some poor plot of pasturage,
Soon silenced into courteous, frigid calm: 
This was the end.  I could not meet him now,
To curse him, to accuse him, or to save,
And draw him from the red entanglement
Coiled by his own hands round his ruined life. 
God pardon me!  My heart that moment held
No drop of pity toward this wretched soul;
And cowering down, as though his guilt were mine,
I fled amidst the savage silences
Of that grim wood, resolved to nurse alone
My boundless desolation, shame and grief.