More awful still—its sound the dread heart gave!
Gladly I welcome the cold arms that win me—
Fire, quench thy tortures in the icy grave!
14.
Francis—a God that pardons dwells in heaven—
Francis, the sinner—yes—she pardons thee—
So let my wrongs unto the earth be given:
Flame seize the wood!--it burns—it kindles—see!
There—there his letters cast—behold are ashes—
His vows—the conquering fire consumes them here: