IX

So, purposing each moment to retire,

      She linger'd still. Meantime, across the moors,

      Had come young Porphyro, with heart on fire

      For Madeline. Beside the portal doors,

      Buttress'd from moonlight, stands he and implores

      All saints to give him sight of Madeline,

      But for one moment in the tedious hours,

      That he might gaze and worship all unseen;

Perchance speak, kneel, touch, kiss—in sooth such things have been.