No warning there her sister’s spirit gave,
No doubt came nigh her the doomed soul to save,
But with a fever burning in her blood,
With glittering eyes and crimson cheeks, she stood
One moment on the brow, the while she cried,
‘Receive me, Love, chosen to be thy bride
From all the million women of the world!’
Then o’er the cliff her wicked limbs were hurled,
Nor has the language of the earth a name
For that surprise of terror and of shame.”