Guta monologue (Act 3) — The Saint's Tragedy

Thank heaven you hear alone, for such sad sight would haunt Henceforth your young hopes--crush your shuddering fancy down With dread of like fierce anguish. You saw her bound forth: we towards her bower in haste Ran trembling: spell-bound there, before her bridal-bed She stood, while wan smiles flickered, like the northern dawn, Across her worn cheeks' ice-field; keenest memories then Rushed with strong shudderings through her--as the winged shaft Springs from the tense nerve, so her passion hurled her forth Sweeping, like fierce ghost, on through hall and corridor, Tearless, with wide eyes staring, while a ghastly wind Moaned on through roof and rafter, and the empty helms Along the walls ran clattering, and above her waved Dead heroes' banners; swift and yet more swift she drove Still seeking aimless; sheer against the opposing wall At last dashed reckless--there with frantic fingers clutched Blindly the ribbed oak, till that frost of rage Dissolved itself in tears, and like a babe, With inarticulate moans, and folded hands, She followed those who led her, as if the sun On her life's dial had gone back seven years, And she were once again the dumb sad child We knew her ere she married.