Wedding me with it. Hide it in thy cowl.
Now go from me, for now I am content
To die, nor fear the little hour of pain,
That comes ere all pain ceases in a sleep.”
Alone, she closed her eyes, and wearily
Her head sank from its old imperious poise,
Slackening to the shoulder, and her arms
Hung listless by her with the hands unnerved,
Turned upward from the bench on which she sat;
And numbness fell upon her, and thick sleep