Good people, only send to find the Friar,—
Find him, for pity’s sake! He will confirm
All I have said, and prove my truth and his,
And save my dear Love, slain for love of me.”
Then a great cry arose, some this way ran,
Some that, and suddenly amid the press
A cowl was seen, and Fra Domenico,
Breathless with haste, just conscious of our need,
Ran in the midst, and then, I know not what,—
For all was tumult,—but my love stood free!