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 Doth sorrow mark this brow and eye With characters of mystery? This—this is anguish!—can it be? And plead'st thou for thy sire to me? Know, though thy prayers a death-pang give, He must not meet my sight—and live! Well may'st thou shudder!—of the Band Who watch in secret o'er the land, Whose thousand swords ’tis vain to shun, Th' unknown, th' unslumb’ring—I am one! My arm defend him!—what were then Each vow that binds the souls of men, Sworn on the cross, and deeply seal'd By rites that may not be reveal'd? —A breeze's breath, an echo's tone, A passing sound, forgot when gone! Nay, shrink not from me—I would fly, That he by other hands may die! What! think'st thou I would live to trace, Abhorrence in that angel-face? Beside thee should the lover stand, The father's life-blood on his brand? No! I have bade my home adieu, For other scenes mine eyes must view; Look on me, love! now all is known, O Ella! must I fly alone?"