XVIII

'Ah! why wilt thou affright a feeble soul?

      A poor, weak, palsy-stricken, church-yard thing,

      Whose passing-bell may ere the midnight toll;

      Whose prayers for thee, each morn and evening,

      Were never miss'd.' Thus plaining, doth she bring

      A gentler speech from burning Porphyro;

      So woful, and of such deep sorrowing,

      That Angela gives promise she will do

Whatever he shall wish, betide her weal or woe.