And so, his Story ended.
GOLFRE,
PART SECOND.
As on the rushy floor she sat,
Her hand her pale cheek pressing;
Oft, on the Goatherd’s face, her eyes
Would fix intent, her mute surprize—
In frequent starts confessing.
Then, slowly would she turn her head,
And watch the narrow wicket;
And shudder, while the wintry blast