My senses reel, my heart grows weak,
The stain of shame is on my cheek,—
Yet would I not the past recall.
I thank thee for thy pitying care,
But must my lot unaided bear.
Enough, I unreluctant go
To banishment, disgrace, and wo.”
“Thy words are wild—I would not press
Intrusive on thy heart’s distress;
Nor do I seek thy griefs to know,