But nought of Isidor could learn, nor e’er could view.
XVI.
“All thought of her I checked—but while my soul
Shook with its mortal agony I sought
Relief in the design to this rude goal
To bear thee, maiden, as I now have brought,
And gaze upon thy face where Nature wrought
Such likeness unto her—but fear not harm
From me! Thou’rt as a sister dear, whom nought
Shall dare to injure. Let me drink the charm