His pulses—“Holy Virgin! save me, save!”
He deem’d of spectre from the midnight wave,
And cross’d him thrice, and pray’d and pray’d again:
“Hence! hence!” and Julio started as the strain
Of exorcisms fell faintly on his ear:
“I knew thee, father, that thou beest here
To gaze upon this girl, as I have been.
By yonder moon! it was a frantic sin
To worship so an image of the clay;
It was like beauty—but is now away—