But when she saw him quail and quake, And when he urged "For pity's sake!" Once more in gentle tones she spake. "Thought in the mind doth still abide That is by Intellect supplied, And within that Idea doth hide: "And he, that yearns the truth to know, Still further inwardly may go, And find Idea from Notion flow: "And thus the chain, that sages sought, Is to a glorious circle wrought, For Notion hath its source in Thought." So passed they on with even pace: Yet gradually one might trace A shadow growing on his face.

Second Voice

They walked beside the wave-worn beach; Her tongue was very apt to teach, And now and then he did beseech She would abate her dulcet tone, Because the talk was all her own, And he was dull as any drone. She urged "No cheese is made of chalk": And ceaseless flowed her dreary talk, Tuned to the footfall of a walk. Her voice was very full and rich, And, when at length she asked him "Which?" It mounted to its highest pitch. He a bewildered answer gave, Drowned in the sullen moaning wave, Lost in the echoes of the cave. He answered her he knew not what: Like shaft from bow at random shot, He spoke, but she regarded not. She waited not for his reply, But with a downward leaden eye Went on as if he were not by