Then his lips grew white with anger. Surely God was pleased with him
Who had built the wondrous organ for His temple vast and dim!
Whose the fault, then? Hers—the maiden standing meekly at his side!
Flamed his jealous rage, maintaining she was false to him—his bride.
Vain were all her protestations, vain her innocence and truth;
On that very night he left her to her anguish and her ruth.
For he wandered to a country wherein no man knew his name;
For ten weary years he dwelt there, nursing still his wrath and shame.
Then his haughty heart grew softer, and he thought by night and day
Of the bride he had deserted, till he hardly dared to pray;