37. 
’These were forebodings of my fate—­before
A woman’s heart beat in my virgin breast,
It had been nurtured in divinest lore: 
A dying poet gave me books, and blessed
With wild but holy talk the sweet unrest 455
In which I watched him as he died away—­
A youth with hoary hair—­a fleeting guest
Of our lone mountains:  and this lore did sway
My spirit like a storm, contending there alway.

38. 
’Thus the dark tale which history doth unfold 460
I knew, but not, methinks, as others know,
For they weep not; and Wisdom had unrolled
The clouds which hide the gulf of mortal woe,—­
To few can she that warning vision show—­
For I loved all things with intense devotion; 465
So that when Hope’s deep source in fullest flow,
Like earthquake did uplift the stagnant ocean
Of human thoughts—­mine shook beneath the wide emotion.

39. 
’When first the living blood through all these veins
Kindled a thought in sense, great France sprang forth, 470
And seized, as if to break, the ponderous chains
Which bind in woe the nations of the earth. 
I saw, and started from my cottage-hearth;
And to the clouds and waves in tameless gladness
Shrieked, till they caught immeasurable mirth—­ 475
And laughed in light and music:  soon, sweet madness
Was poured upon my heart, a soft and thrilling sadness.

40. 
’Deep slumber fell on me:—­my dreams were fire—­
Soft and delightful thoughts did rest and hover
Like shadows o’er my brain; and strange desire, 480
The tempest of a passion, raging over
My tranquil soul, its depths with light did cover,
Which passed; and calm, and darkness, sweeter far,
Came—­then I loved; but not a human lover! 
For when I rose from sleep, the Morning Star 485
Shone through the woodbine-wreaths which round my casement were.

41. 
’’Twas like an eye which seemed to smile on me. 
I watched, till by the sun made pale, it sank
Under the billows of the heaving sea;
But from its beams deep love my spirit drank, 490
And to my brain the boundless world now shrank
Into one thought—­one image—­yes, for ever! 
Even like the dayspring, poured on vapours dank,
The beams of that one Star did shoot and quiver
Through my benighted mind—­and were extinguished never. 495

42. 
’The day passed thus:  at night, methought, in dream
A shape of speechless beauty did appear: 
It stood like light on a careering stream
Of golden clouds which shook the atmosphere;
A winged youth, his radiant brow did wear 500
The Morning Star:  a wild dissolving bliss
Over my frame he breathed, approaching near,
And bent his eyes of kindling tenderness
Near mine, and on my lips impressed a lingering kiss,—­