Too pleased with what he had, to gaze outside.
To him those arches low seem’d high as heaven;
And all the sweet and sunny air without,
When strain’d through stain’d and smoke-wreathed window-panes,
Gleam’d lurid as were hell. This man spied you:
He saw you shun him—leave him. He pursued—
Out, past the doorway—and he found God’s world
So much more broad than walls named after Him!”
LXXIII.
“And Norman,” said she, “think you, evermore,