And hereupon my mind was so withdrawn Within itself, that from without there came Nothing that then might be received by it. Then rained within my lofty fantasy 854 One crucified, disdainful and ferocious In countenance, and even thus was dying. Around him were the great Ahasuerus, Esther his wife, and the just Mordecai, Who was in word and action so entire. And even as this image burst asunder Of its own self, in fashion of a bubble In which the water it was made of fails, There rose up in my vision a young maiden 855 Bitterly weeping, and she said: “O queen, Why hast thou wished in anger to be naught? Thou’st slain thyself, Lavinia not to lose; Now hast thou lost me; I am she who mourns, Mother, at thine ere at another’s ruin.” As sleep is broken, when upon a sudden New light strikes in upon the eyelids closed, And broken quivers e’er it dieth wholly, So this imagining of mine fell down