Of Constance then she heard Theodric speak,
And steadfast smoothness still possessed her cheek;
But when he told her how he oft had planned
Of old a journey to their mountain land,
That might have brought him hither years before,
‘Ah! then,’ she cried, ‘you knew not England’s shore;
And, had you come,—and wherefore did you not?’
‘Yes,’ he replied, ‘it would have changed our lot!’
Then burst her tears through pride’s restraining bands,
And with her handkerchief, and both her hands,