Gazed on the maid with mingled awe and fear,
Damp on his cheek perceived the unwonted tear,
Then raised to Heaven his eyes in earnest prayer,
And half believed himself already there.
Low too Rosalvo knelt, nor knew, if now
For Mary’s grace, or Irza’s, rose his vow.
Scarce e’en the monk forbore to kneel; his child
Fondly he viewed, and sweetly, gravely smiled,
And blessed that God, as swelled each melting note,
Who gave such heavenly powers to human throat!