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LOVE TORMENTING THE SOUL.
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IV.
Methought I would go forth awhile,
And track thy steps of flame,
Henceforth my young lute should be vowed
To vindicate thy name.
V.
I paused beside a convent grate,
I heard a mournful tone,
The maiden's cheek was very pale,
Her eye's blue light was gone;
VI.
For tears had washed the rose and light
Away from cheek and eye;
She knelt before the crucifix,
And only prayed to die.
VII.
The maiden's tale was quickly told—
Of love that could forsake,
Of a fond heart that beat too true,
And then could only break.
VIII.
I saw a young knight spur his steed
Amid the thickest fight;
It was not for the warrior's meed,
Nor for his country's right:
