And looked not out again, and fiercely pressed
Her white teeth in her quivering underlip,
To stifle the wild cry that strove to slip
From her strained throat; with clutching hands she sought
To stay the throbbing tumult of her breast
That fluttered like a bird in meshes caught.
Christine as yet in dreamless slumber lay
Within her turret-chamber; but a bird
Within the laurel singing softly stirred
Her eyes to wakeful life, and from her bed