When they heard so much as the shaken frills
Of these they loved in the passing by;
And then, betwixt a sob and sigh,
Had dreamed of a day when they should wed.
Vain dream! Vain dream! now here, instead,
With Bianca fled to the hill-side tower
They should strain and hearken hour by hour,
With clutching hands and bated breath,
For man's last bride—the Woman, Death.
And thus they sat a lengthy while