Like eyes that looked on Wastes— Incredulous of Ought But Blank—and steady Wilderness— Diversified by Night— Just Infinites of Nought— As far as it could see— So looked the face I looked upon— So looked itself—on Me— I offered it no Help— Because the Cause was Mine— The Misery a Compact As hopeless—as divine— Neither—would be absolved— Neither would be a Queen Without the Other—Therefore— We perish—tho' We reign—