“O thou who art beyond the sacred river,” 1126 Turning to me the point of her discourse, 1127 That edgewise even had seemed to me so keen, She recommenced, continuing without pause, “Say, say if this be true; to such a charge, Thy own confession needs must be conjoined.” My faculties were in so great confusion, That the voice moved, but sooner was extinct Than by its organs it was set at large. Awhile she waited; then she said: “What thinkest? Answer me; for the mournful memories In thee not yet are by the waters injured.” Confusion and dismay together mingled Forced such a Yes! from out my mouth, that sight Was needful to the understanding of it. Even as a cross-bow breaks, when ’tis discharged Too tensely drawn the bowstring and the bow, And with less force the arrow hits the mark, So I gave way beneath that heavy burden, Outpouring in a torrent tears and sighs, And the voice flagged upon its passage forth. Whence she to me: “In those desires of mine