THE STAKE. 
Folding him in its dark shroud. 
At that omen J awoke ; 
Starting, through the ring I broke, 
The dark-cowled ring that bound him: 
Passionately I clung around him. 
Hurried were my words, and few ; 
What I said I little knew, 
But their import and their tone 
O’erflow’d with a wild despair : 
“© Under heaven I am alone, 
Oh! go not without me there !” 
Fetter’d by the bolt and chain, 
His arm might not hold me now ; 
But his head a moment’s space 
Mournfully bent o’er my face, 
And his tears, like heaven's rain, 
Fell upon my aching brow ; 
And his lips one moment press’d me, 
And he, fondly murmuring, bless’d me : 
And that hour our fate had sealed 
Far as hell and heaven asunder, 
And the awful doom revealed 
To the human heart that trusteth 
In the creatures of a day ; 
And where waste and canker rusteth 
Hath built up its shrines of clay, 
My lost spirit had come under: 
But from his death-pyre they tore me, 
Back into the crowd they bore me, 
And the chant of monkish singing ; 
Like a death-howl pealed throughout me ; 
And like demon fingers clinging 
Hung their ruthless grasp about me : 
And up to the unlistening sky 
Rose my shriek of agony ! 
Never, its blue arch below, 
Rang a cry of deeper woe ! 
“« Clemence !”” ’twas his voice that broke 
The confused clamour through, 
And its thrilling accent spoke 
