That such had been the power
Of that celestial, immortal song,
A hundred years had passed,
And had not seemed so long
As a single hour!
Elsie learns that the malady of the prince will never be cured unless by a miracle, or unless (which some Benedicts would pronounce equally miraculous) a maiden should offer her life for his, and die in his stead. She immediately expresses her desire to save the prince at this sacrifice; and to the exclamation of her mother, that she knows not what death is, she answers with a burst of religious fervor almost celestial:
’Tis the cessation of our breath.
Silent and motionless we lie;
And no one knoweth more than this.
I saw our little Gertrude die;