He said--"Alceste!"--he said nothing more,
But gazed a space into her melting eyes
So woefully, her poor heart flutter'd sore,
Like a caged lark that thrills to mount the skies.
He said, "Is this the bliss we pictured o'er?
"Is this the rapture, this the Paradise?
"O perjured vows! O cruel love!" he said,
"Thus at a blow to strike hope's spirit dead."