XIII

Perhaps in mercy is the future masked.
For who so hardy, if his fate were read,
As to abide its coming? Ah, instead
Of cloudy hopes in which my heart has basked--
Dim lights, bright shadows, airy fancies, tasked
By schooling reason--I might lie half dead,
Groaning beneath a ruthless vision spread
By that hard knowledge I so rashly asked.
For if I saw my love's disastrous end
Now laid before my horror-stricken eyes--
That whole fair web of close inwoven ties
Torn and disjoined--I would no more contend
With fate, but fly it as the coward flies,
And at one blow, both love and being rend.