CANTO THE SECOND XXII |
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CANTO THE SECONDXXII
And Lara sleeps not where his fathers sleep,
But where he died his grave was dug as deep;
Nor is his mortal slumber less profound,
Though priest nor bless`d, nor marble deck`d the mound;
And he was mourn`d by one whose quiet grief,
Less loud, outlasts a people`s for their chief.
Vain was all question ask`d her of the past,
And vain e`en menace — silent to the last;
She told nor whence nor why she left behind
Her all for one who seem`d but little kind.
Why did she love him? Curious fool! — be still —
Is human love the growth of human will?
To her he might be gentleness; the stern
Have deeper thoughts than your dull eyes discern,
And when they love, your smilers guess not how
Beats the strong heart, though less the lips avow.
They were not common links that form`d the chain
That bound to Lara Kaled`s heart and brain;
But that wild tale she brook`d not to unfold,
And seal`d is now each lip that could have told.
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