Came and brought hope! while scarce of mortal birth
He deem’d the pale fair form that held on earth
Communion but with grief.
Ere long, a cell,
A rock-hewn chapel rose, a cross of stone
Gleam’d through the dark trees o’er a sparkling well;
And a sweet voice, of rich yet mournful tone,
Told the Calabrian wilds that duly there
Costanza lifted her sad heart in prayer.
And now ’twas prayer’s own hour. That voice again