Page:The poetical works of Thomas Campbell.djvu/74

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To-morrow both his soul's compassion drewTo Julia's call, and Constance urged anewThat not to heed her now would be to bindA load of pain for life upon his mind.He went with Udolph—from his Constance went—Stifling, alas! a dark presentimentSome ailment lurk'd, ev'n whilst she smiled, to mockHis fears of harm from yester-morning's shock.Meanwhile a faithful page he singled out,To watch at home, and follow straight his route,If aught of threaten'd change her health should show—With Udolph then he reach'd the house of woe.That winter's eve how darkly Nature's browScowl'd on the scenes it lights so lovely now!The tempest, raging o'er the realms of ice,Shook fragments from the rifted precipice;And, whilst their falling echoed to the wind,The wolf's long howl in dismal discord join'd,While white yon water's foam was raised in cloudsThat whirl'd like spirits wailing in their shrouds:Without was Nature's elemental din—And beauty died, and friendship wept, within!Sweet Julia, though her fate was finish'd half,Still knew him—smiled on him with feeble laugh—And blessed him, till she drew her latest sigh!But lo! while Udolph's bursts of agony,And age's tremulous wailings, round him rose,What accents pierced him deeper yet than those!'Twas tidings, by his English messenger,Of Constance—brief and terrible they were.She still was living when the page set outFrom home, but whether now was left in doubt.
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