And some nice green moss on the spot he threw;
Lest perchance the monster alarm should take,
And not choose to sleep from being too wide awake.
Hark to that sound!
The rocks around
Tremble—it shakes the very ground;
While Irmengard cries,
As tears stream from her eyes,—
A lady-like weakness we must not despise
(And here, let me add, I have been much to blame,