And the tower ceases to sway.
St Maur stares out of his bloodshot eyes,
Like one that's well-nigh mad;
The tower stands fast, and the stones rise high
About the little lad.
"O father, father, lift me out!
The stones reach over my eyes,
And I cannot see you now, father,
So swift the walls uprise.
"O father, lift me out, father!