He turned to the wall his face so wan,
And shook in the breath of the Mighty One!”
The mother touches the strand; hears a death-bell; asks of a gray-haired man; speeds wildly to the tower:
“At the foot of the tower, to the gaoler grim,
She sobbed aloud and she called to him:
O! open the gates (my son! my son!)
O open the gates (my only son!)
They opened the gates; no word they said:
Before her there her son lay dead.