For white of blee with waiting for me
Is the corse in the next chambere.'
"I came, I knelt beside her bed;
Her calm was worse than strife.
'My husband, for thy father dear,
Gave freely when thou wast not here
His own and eke my life.
A boon! Of that sweet child we make
An orphan for thy father's sake,
Make thou, for ours, a wife.'