Will be thy shield by night?—What friendly door
Will give thee refuge at the dire alarm
Of hungry wolves, and beasts in human form?”
XXXII.
“Oh cease, my Mary, cease!—Thou dost complain
That Heaven itself doth interpose to save,—
Doth wing this tempest’s fury to restrain
The quest of foes, and prompt my soul to brave
The desert’s perils, that I may maintain
The conscience free against who would enslave;—