Fell on his knees, and pity to entreat,
Embraced and kissed the walls of that cold tower.
The Recluse.
“No, no! the time is past,” her sad voice spoke;
“But be thou tranquil, Heaven will give me strength,
The Lord will shield me from that heaviest stroke.
When here I came, I on the threshold swore
Never to leave this tower, but for the grave.
I wrestled with myself, and thou, my love,
Thou, even thou, against the Lord wouldst aid me.