To his wan lips * * *
* * * * * *
* * * * * *
“My son! look up and tell thy dismal tale.
Thou seemest cold, and sorrowful, and pale.
Alas! I fear that thou hast strangely been
A child of curse, and misery, and sin.
And this,—is she thy sister?”—“nay! my bride.”
“Anon! and thou?”—“True, true! but then she died,
And was a virgin, and is virgin still,