“The fretted fires of Mora blew o’er him in the night;

He thrills no more to loving, nor weeps for past delight.

For when those flames have bitten, both grief and joy take flight⁠—”

“The fretted fires of Mora blew o’er him in the night; He thrills no more to loving, nor weeps for past delight. For when those flames have bitten, both grief and joy take flight⁠—”

Again Yolara tried to draw him down beside her; and once more he gripped her hand. His eyes grew fixed⁠—he crooned: