But down and down crept Rupert till he swung by his senseless wife,
Stooping, he clasped her firmly, one hand on the doubtful rope,
Pressed his lips on her marble forehead, and whispered her, “Darling—hope!”
Then breathing a prayer to Heaven to save them both that night,
He toiled with his heavy burden up the face of the frowning height.
A fall of the soft red sandstone, a slip of his bleeding hand,
And their bodies had lain together, crushed on the cruel strand.
Safe! safe at last on the summit! safe on the firm hard road!
There where the moonbeams glittered, he glanced at his senseless load.
Her face was bruised and battered, and the warm blood welled and gushed;