Unto the rock-built shelter he had reared,
Some little way apart from his own cell,
For storm-stayed fishers or wrecked mariners.
He laid her on a bed of withered bents,
And ministered to her with gentle hands
And ceaseless care; till, wrapped in warm, deep sleep,
She sank oblivious. Silently he placed
His island-fare beside her on the board,
Lest she should wake in need; then, with hushed step,
He turned to go; but, ere he reached the door,