Yea, hast forgotten, aye long, long ago,
That son of Evrawc, Evrawc of the North,
Who wooed thee once!... Hast memory of him yet?...
Look in his eyes once more and say farewell."
"My soul, my soul!" she said; "O my true soul!
This shall not be, my soul!"—He heard her low
Voice pleading softly, and, deep in his heart,
New life leapt up, and sang in every pulse,
"She loves me! yea, she loves me!"—And it seemed
He heard her as men hear the voice of hope