Of noble hearts; while many a knightly crest
Roll’d with them to the deep. And, in the years
Of my long exile and captivity,
With the fierce Arab I have watch’d beneath
The still, pale shadow of some lonely palm,
At midnight in the desert; while the wind
Swell’d with the lion’s roar, and heavily
The fearfulness and might of solitude
Press’d on my weary heart.
Her. (thoughtfully.) Thou little know’st