And when the Prince bade her be comforted,
Proffering his zealous aid in whatsoe’er
Might please her to appoint, a feeble smile
Pass’d slowly over her pale countenance,
Like moonlight on a marble statue. Heaven
Requite thee, Prince! she answer’d. All I ask
Is but a quiet resting-place, wherein
A broken heart, in prayer and humble hope,
May wait for its deliverance. Even this
My most unhappy fate denies me here.