Constance De Castile | ||
XXIV.
But all in vain sad Ellen rovesBy day, 'mid unfrequented groves;
In vain, by night, the mountain cave
To wearied Ellen refuge gave:
Vain her breath'd woe, her mute despair;
Pedro's stern guards have seiz'd the Fair,
And sever'd by the cloister pale,
Sad Ellen weeps beneath the veil.—
Constance De Castile | ||