 | The bridal of Vaumond |  |
XXI.
Thus he spoke; in troubled ire
Answer'd him the conclave dire.
Answer'd him the conclave dire.
1.
We have no powerO'er Christian life;
Till the destin'd hour
For carnal strife.
We may but tempt—
Who holds his faith
From harm exempt
We may not do to death.
2.
Thou hast a charmed beingThat weapon may not harm—
122
Its terrors braving
Then spill the life-blood warm;
But in battle or peace
Till the charm shall cease,
Fear not earth or heav'n or hell,
None but thee can break the spell.
3.
Destin'd one!Thy doom is done
When thy homage is said to the Holy one
Remember!
| The bridal of Vaumond | |