The passage of that hour, as if the soul
Were girded, and had championed suffering;
And it is strange, how a weak human heart
Will thus be quiet like a hushing storm,
And, with a fetter on its pulses, wait
To measure spirits for the mastery!
The low ‘Amen!’ died on the silent air,
And Meina’s heart was ready. The young boy
Sprang joyously away, as if her arms
Had prisoned him too long; and, as he saw