And so I hope, and so my crescent faith Gains daily power, that all my prayers and tears And toils and blood and anguish borne for him May blot the accusing of my deadly sin From heaven's high compt, and give me rest in death; And lay the pallid ghost of mortal love, That fills with banned and mournful loveliness, Unblest, the haunted chambers of my soul.

" "Then be it so," quoth I, "that thou are bent To die alone, unpitied, unplained; Yet, ere thou die, it were convenient 80 To tell the cause which thee thereto constrained, Least that the world thee dead accuse of guilt, And say, when thou of none shall be maintained, That thou for secret crime thy blood hast spilt.