Howbeit when to her husband’s grave she came,
On the sepulchral stone she bow’d her head
Awhile; then rose collectedly, and fix’d
Upon the scene her calm and steady eye.
Roderick, ... oh when did valour wear a form
So beautiful, so noble, so august?
Or vengeance, when did it put on before
A character so aweful, so divine?
Roderick stood up, and reaching to the tomb
His hands, my hero cried, Theodofred!