Of sad, deep questioning, and she would turn
Appealingly to heaven, with trembling tears—
Yet was it she—the very same he saw,
Writ o'er with all the foul name of a wanton.
One fearful word broke from the quivering lips
Of the young Hebrew, as at last alone,
By the dark base of a high, shadowy rock,
He sank in agony; and then he bent
His forehead down to the cool, mossy turf,
And lay there silently. Light, creeping plants,