I’ll hear no plaint! kneel not! I’m deaf to prayer!

Swift, brethren, to the barge this maniac bear;

Speed! speed!—no tears!—no struggling!—no delay

Row, brethren, row, and waft us swift away!”

The monks obeyed. Then, then in Irza’s soul

What various passions raged, and mock’d control!

Now how she mourn’d, now how she wept for joy,

How loathed the sire, and how adored the boy!

The barge is gain’d; they row. When, lo! from high

Her ear again receives that well-known cry,