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"
He
sleeps
,
"
she
said
;
"
nature
exhausted
by
sufferance
and
the
waste
of
spirits
,
his
wearied
frame
embraces
the
first
moment
of
temporary
relaxation
to
sink
into
slumber
Alas
!
is
it
a
crime
that
I
should
look
upon
him
,
when
it
may
be
for
the
last
time
?
--
When
yet
but
a
short
space
,
and
those
fair
features
will
be
no
longer
animated
by
the
bold
and
buoyant
spirit
which
forsakes
them
not
even
in
sleep
!
--
When
the
nostril
shall
be
distended
,
the
mouth
agape
,
the
eyes
fixed
and
bloodshot
;
and
when
the
proud
and
noble
knight
may
be
trodden
on
by
the
lowest
caitiff
of
this
accursed
castle
,
yet
stir
not
when
the
heel
is
lifted
up
against
him
!
--
And
my
father
!
--
oh
,
my
father
!
evil
is
it
with
his
daughter
,
when
his
grey
hairs
are
not
remembered
because
of
the
golden
locks
of
youth
!
--
What
know
I
but
that
these
evils
are
the
messengers
of
Jehovah
's
wrath
to
the
unnatural
child
,
who
thinks
of
a
stranger
's
captivity
before
a
parent
's
?
who
forgets
the
desolation
of
Judah
,
and
looks
upon
the
comeliness
of
a
Gentile
and
a
stranger
?
--
But
I
will
tear
this
folly
from
my
heart
,
though
every
fibre
bleed
as
I
rend
it
away
!
"
She
wrapped
herself
closely
in
her
veil
,
and
sat
down
at
a
distance
from
the
couch
of
the
wounded
knight
,
with
her
back
turned
towards
it
,
fortifying
,
or
endeavouring
to
fortify
her
mind
,
not
only
against
the
impending
evils
from
without
,
but
also
against
those
treacherous
feelings
which
assailed
her
from
within
.
Approach
the
chamber
,
look
upon
his
bed
.
His
is
the
passing
of
no
peaceful
ghost
,
Which
,
as
the
lark
arises
to
the
sky
,
'
Mid
morning
's
sweetest
breeze
and
softest
dew
,
Is
wing
'd
to
heaven
by
good
men
's
sighs
and
tears
!
--
Anselm
parts
otherwise
.
Old
Play
