[74]
does not quite come home to me, though this does,
I could not love thee, sweet,1 so much,
Loved I not honor more. ...
Do not, I implore you, whether from pride or affection, wish to exile me from the dark hour. The manly mind might love best in the triumphant hour; but the woman could no more stay from the foot of the cross than from the transfiguration.2