They had too early woken. Konrad rose,
Lifted his eyes unto the tower, and looked
With anguish on the grate. The nightingale
Awoke in song, then Konrad looked around.
’Tis morning! and he let his visor down,
And in his cloak’s wide folds concealed his face.
With beckoning of his hand he signs adieu,
And in the bushes how is lost
Ev’n thus,
A spirit infernal from a hermit’s door