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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=117485" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Devoted</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">It was a beautiful turn given by a great lady, who being asked where<br>her husband was, when he lay concealed for having been deeply concerned<br>in a conspiracy, resolutely answered, that she had hidden him. This confession<br>caused her to be carried before the governor, who told her that<br>nought but confessing where she had hidden him, could save her from the<br>torture. “And will that do?” said she. “Yes,” replied the governor, “I<br>will pass my word for your safety, on that condition.” “Then,” replied<br>she, “I have hidden him in my heart, where you may find him.”</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Stern faces were around them bent, and eyes of vengeful ire,<br>And fearful were the words they spake of torture, stake, and fire:<br>Yet calmly in the midst she stood, with eye undimm'd and clear,<br>And though her lip and cheek were white, she wore no sign of fear.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">“Where is thy traitor spouse?” they said;—a half-form'd smile of scorn,<br>That curl'd upon her haughty lip, was back for answer borne;—<br>“Where is thy traitor spouse?” again, in fiercer notes, they said,<br>And sternly pointed to the rack, all rusted o'er with red!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Her heart and pulse beat firm and free—but in a crimson flood,<br>O'er pallid lip and cheek and brow, rush'd up the burning blood;<br>She spake, but proudly rose her tones, as when in hall or bower,<br>The haughtiest chief that round her stood had meekly own'd their power;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">“My noble lord is placed within a safe and sure retreat”—<br>“Now tell us where, thou lady bright, as thou wouldst mercy meet,<br>Nor deem thy life can purchase his—he cannot ‘scape our wrath,<br>For many a warrior's watchful eye is placed o'er every path.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">“But thou may'st win his broad estates to grace thine infant heir,<br>And life and honour to thyself, so thou his haunts declare.”<br>She laid her hand upon her heart; her eye flash'd proud and clear,<br>And firmer grew her haughty tread—“My lord is hidden here!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">“And if ye seek to view his form, ye first must tear away,<br>From round his secret dwelling place these walls of living clay!”<br>They quail'd beneath her haughty glance, they silent turn'd aside,<br>And left her all unharm'd amidst her loveliness and pride!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Elizabeth+Margaret+Chandler">Elizabeth Margaret Chandler</a> from <i>Poetical Works</i><div class=q>
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