ROSALIND: 
I saw the dark earth fall upon
The coffin; and I saw the stone 220
Laid over him whom this cold breast
Had pillowed to his nightly rest! 
Thou knowest not, thou canst not know
My agony.  Oh!  I could not weep: 
The sources whence such blessings flow 225
Were not to be approached by me! 
But I could smile, and I could sleep,
Though with a self-accusing heart. 
In morning’s light, in evening’s gloom,
I watched,—­and would not thence depart—­ 230
My husband’s unlamented tomb. 
My children knew their sire was gone,
But when I told them,—­’He is dead,’—­
They laughed aloud in frantic glee,
They clapped their hands and leaped about, 235
Answering each other’s ecstasy
With many a prank and merry shout. 
But I sate silent and alone,
Wrapped in the mock of mourning weed.

They laughed, for he was dead:  but I 240
Sate with a hard and tearless eye,
And with a heart which would deny
The secret joy it could not quell,
Low muttering o’er his loathed name;
Till from that self-contention came 245
Remorse where sin was none; a hell
Which in pure spirits should not dwell.

I’ll tell thee truth.  He was a man
Hard, selfish, loving only gold,
Yet full of guile; his pale eyes ran 250
With tears, which each some falsehood told,
And oft his smooth and bridled tongue
Would give the lie to his flushing cheek;
He was a coward to the strong: 
He was a tyrant to the weak, 255
On whom his vengeance he would wreak: 
For scorn, whose arrows search the heart,
From many a stranger’s eye would dart,
And on his memory cling, and follow
His soul to its home so cold and hollow. 260
He was a tyrant to the weak,
And we were such, alas the day! 
Oft, when my little ones at play,
Were in youth’s natural lightness gay,
Or if they listened to some tale 265
Of travellers, or of fairy land,—­
When the light from the wood-fire’s dying brand
Flashed on their faces,—­if they heard
Or thought they heard upon the stair
His footstep, the suspended word 270
Died on my lips:  we all grew pale: 
The babe at my bosom was hushed with fear
If it thought it heard its father near;
And my two wild boys would near my knee
Cling, cowed and cowering fearfully. 275