That our tardy flight should be betrayed
By the sound our horses’ hoof-beats made. 
And when we reached the plain below,
We paused a moment and drew rein
To look back at the castle again;
And we saw the windows all aglow
With lights, that were passing to and fro;
Our hearts with terror ceased to beat;
The brook crept silent to our feet;
We knew what most we feared to know. 
Then suddenly horns began to blow;
And we heard a shout, and a heavy tramp,
And our horses snorted in the damp
Night-air of the meadows green and wide,
And in a moment, side by side,
So close, they must have seemed but one,
The shadows across the moonlight run,
And another came, and swept behind,
Like the shadow of clouds before the wind!

How I remember that breathless flight
Across the moors, in the summer night! 
How under our feet the long, white road
Backward like a river flowed,
Sweeping with it fences and hedges,
Whilst farther away and overhead,
Paler than I, with fear and dread,
The moon fled with us as we fled
Along the forest’s jagged edges!

All this I can remember well;
But of what afterwards befell
I nothing further can recall
Than a blind, desperate, headlong fall;
The rest is a blank and darkness all. 
When I awoke out of this swoon,
The sun was shining, not the moon,
Making a cross upon the wall
With the bars of my windows narrow and tall;
And I prayed to it, as I had been wont to pray
From early childhood, day by day,
Each morning, as in bed I lay! 
I was lying again in my own room! 
And I thanked God, in my fever and pain,
That those shadows on the midnight plain
Were gone, and could not come again! 
I struggled no longer with my doom!

This happened many years ago. 
I left my father’s home to come
Like Catherine to her martyrdom,
For blindly I esteemed it so. 
And when I heard the convent door
Behind me close, to ope no more,
I felt it smite me like a blow. 
Through all my limbs a shudder ran,
And on my bruised spirit fell
The dampness of my narrow cell
As night-air on a wounded man,
Giving intolerable pain.

But now a better life began. 
I felt the agony decrease
By slow degrees, then wholly cease,
Ending in perfect rest and peace! 
It was not apathy, nor dulness,
That weighed and pressed upon my brain,
But the same passion I had given
To earth before, now turned to heaven
With all its overflowing fulness.

Alas! the world is full of peril! 
The path that runs through the fairest meads,
On the sunniest side of the valley, leads
Into a region bleak and sterile! 
Alike in the high-born and the lowly,
The will is feeble, and passion strong. 
We cannot sever right from wrong;
Some falsehood mingles with all truth;
Nor is it strange the heart of youth