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Rh

In the proud joy I felt at his high deeds. How swell'd my heart! A braver knight in arms Fought not that day. Bold heart and potent hand, And lofty mien and eyes that flash'd with valour. Where run my words? I have forgot their drift.

Something which happened in the armory.

Ay, in the armory, as I have said, I struck my hand, in vehemence of action, On a spik'd shield, nor knew till afterwards, When the wild fit was past, and oozing blood Loaded my clammy touch, that in my flesh The broken iron was sheath'd. No; what can corporeal pain or penance do? That which inflicts the mental wound, which rends The hold of pride, wrenching the bent of nature; 'T is that alone hath power. Yet from the effort Nature starts back; my mind, stunn'd at the thought, Loses the use of thought.

I do not understand you; good, my Lord.

It matters not, you will, perhaps, hereafter.