And felt the sacrifice which blinded love had made.
And what I felt I spoke; my untamed soul
The task of patient love had yet to learn,
Each word, each look, each feeling to control,
Harshness with meek submission to return,
By charms more lasting, love more lasting earn,
This to my spirit was a task unknown;
My lip would quiver, and my cheek would burn,
By glance reproachful and upbraiding tone
I marred Montoro’s happiness—and crushed my own.