Of woe had thou and I.... The bitterness
Of that reflection overcame her then,
And choak’d her speech. But Roderick sate the while
Covering his face with both his hands close-prest,
His head bow’d down, his spirit to such point
Of sufferance knit, as one who patiently
Awaits the uplifted sword.
Till now, said she,
Resuming her confession, I had lived,
If not in innocence, yet self-deceived,