XVI.

“All thought of her I checked--but while my soul Shook with its mortal agony I sought Relief in the design to this rude goal To bear thee, maiden, as I now have brought, And gaze upon thy face where Nature wrought Such likeness unto _her_--but fear not harm From me! Thou’rt as a sister dear, whom nought Shall dare to injure. Let me drink the charm Of thy sweet face i’ the Moon--nay, curb thy vain alarm!