Alarm’d at this, he dared no longer stay, }
But left his bride, and as a pilgrim gray, }
With staff and beads, went forth to weep and fast and pray. }
In vain his Felice sigh’d—nay, smiled in vain; }
With all he loved he [dared] not long remain, }
But roved he knew not where, nor said, “I come again.” }
The widow’d countess pass’d her years in grief,
But sought in alms and holy deeds relief;
And many a pilgrim ask’d, with many a sigh, 70
To give her tidings of the wandering Guy.