And yet, despite of all the gushing tear--
The melting tone--the darting heart-stream--proved,
The soul that in them spoke, could spurn at fear
Of death or danger; and had those she loved
Required it at their need, she could have stood,
Unmoved, as some fair-sculptured statue, while
The dome that guards it, earth's convulsions, rude
Are shivering--meeting ruin with a smile.