XIII.
“Now hear me,” said Beltrán, while flashed his eye
With supernatural light, and instant flushed
His pale and haggard cheek. “My destiny
“Thou know’st is terrible as e’er hath hushed
The heart of man, or youthful spirit crushed.
I loved, and in a brother found, oh God!
A rival—all unconsciously I rushed
And stabbed him—then a cloister’s pavement trod,
And sought relief in prayer, in monkish fast, and rod.