"But in the morn you it shall all exhume
If you will swear my body to entomb
Within this spot, and faithfully incline
To grant my dying wishes—then 'tis thine.
I would the haughty Baron soon should know
What hand it is has laid his glory low,
That she it is whose hut he once destroyed
Who now of heirs has made his house thus void.''
"She more had said, but sense appeared to stray,
Yea, even life was ebbing fast away.