XLVII.
The maiden lay there beautiful and pure,
As one that slept and sunn'd her soul in heaven,
From every chance of grief and pain secure,
Sublimed from every taint of earthly leaven;
Her placid bosom through white vestiture
Shone soft and holy, that poor breast so riven,
And her small hands prest gently as in prayer,
Breath'd from the Earth to Heaven, and ended there.