The spell
Was broke by one wild laugh from Henri’s lips.
With curb he drew[412] his horse erect; he threw
His mantel o’er its head, struck deep his spurs,
And with the shout, “My bride!” leaped down to death.[413]
And to this day the story still is told
Of trav’lers, who, belated on the pass,
Have heard, when, softly sobbed the wind, a voice
Call tenderly and low, “I’m waiting, Maud!—
Here, Maud!—Is that you, Maud?”