Knitting an iron nerve-- 50

XI

Command her soul to advance
And inform the shape
Which has made escape
And before my countenance
Answers me glance for glance--

XII

I, still with a gesture fit
Of my hands that best
Do my soul's behest,
Pointing the power from it,
While myself do steadfast sit-- 60

XIII

Steadfast and still the same
On my object bent,
While the hands give vent
To my ardour and my aim
And break into very flame--

XIV

Then I reach, I must believe,
Not her soul in vain,