The priest loved (so he says) the Church and you:
Doretta loved; sought only love’s full fruit:
And Haydn loved; wish’d but to show his love:
And you, child, loved, were but obedient:
We all of us were loving, were we not?
Yet working outward, wisely, as we deem’d,
We all have done the thing to doom us all.
Alas what power has wrought to thwart us thus?
I do believe, though long I doubted it,
There lives a Devil! Hell-scorch’d hands alone