For all her father’s titled friends—the lords who sought her hand —
Hated the bold adventurer; but no one spoke a word —
They only looked their anger;—they knew he wore a sword.
And sadly as he came he went, and Uriel’s anxious eyes
Followed him, step by step, until the distance closed their view;
And when her guests came once more round, they saw them moist with dew.
And Uriel’s cheek grew pallid, and Uriel’s eyes grew dim,
And Uriel’s form grew slender, and her beauty, day by day,
Seemed stricken like the morning moon, and sinking to decay.
Her father called her to him, and he kissed her icy brow,