To Annie, till the morrow, when he spoke.
Then first since Enoch’s golden ring had girt
Her finger, Annie fought against his will:
Yet not with brawling opposition she,
But manifold entreaties, many a tear, 160
Many a sad kiss by day or night renew’d
(Sure that all evil would come out of it)
Besought him, supplicating, if he cared
For her or his dear children, not to go.
He not for his own self caring but her, 165