THE STAKE, 441 
As the lake, by winds unbroken, 
With a heave, its hush’d breast under, 
Murmurs to the coming thunder: 
From the image, calm and holy, 
By his loftier spirit thrown 
Down into its bosom lowly, 
Took its colour and its tone ; 
And I breathed the breath of heaven, 
And I felt his feelings high, 
Till to me, too, there seem’d given 
Life that was not born to die, 
Making my fill’d heart partake 
Peace that never storm could break. 
And the onrush of dark days 
Steadied but our steadfast gaze 
On the shadowless for ever, 
Where the storm-cloud should reach never. 
And the shuddering grasp of ill 
Made our deep hearts deeper thrill, 
And the cadence musical 
Had no sorrow in its fall ; 
And the dungeon’s air before me 
Like an Eden gale blew o’er me, 
For its grated twilight dim 
Clearer shewed me only him ; 
While the aspect of the tomb 
Like an angel’s face looked on us, 
And we blessed the welcome doom 
For the truth’s sake fall’n upon us ; 
For to him the opening grave 
To his far home welcome gave : 
Like the threshold, beckoning whence, 
Angel fingers called him hence, 
And sweet voices’ distant swell 
Chiming on his spirit fell. 
And of bliss, what more intense 
Under heaven could fate dispense, 
Than—L reck’d not how nor why— 
Side by side with him to die ? 
Mine his faith and mine his God, 
Fearless in his steps I trod ; 
VOL, 1X., NO. XXVII. 56 
