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Did strive to gain:—and here, indeed, I own He rightly deem'd; my suit was most presumptuous.

Well, pass this o'er;—I know with too much pride He did oppose thy suit.

That night! It was in dreary, dull November, When at the close of day, with faithful Baldwin, I reach'd this castle with the vain intent To make a last attempt to move his pity. I made it, and I fail'd. With much contempt And aggravating passion, he dismiss'd me To the dark night.

You left him then? You left him?

O yes! I left him. In my swelling breast My proud blood boil'd. Through the wild wood I took My darkling way. A violent storm arose; The black dense clouds pour'd down their torrents on me; The roaring winds aloft with the vex'd trees Held strong contention, whilst my buffetted breast The crushing tangled boughs and torn-up shrubs