No More Learning

(arising hurriedly. ) I cannot pray! --My soul is at war
with God!
The frightful sounds of merriment below
Disturb my senses--go! I cannot pray--
The sweet airs from the garden worry me!
Thy presence grieves me--go! --thy priestly raiment
Fills me with dread--thy ebony crucifix
With horror and awe!

Monk. Think of thy precious soul!

Lal. Think of my early days! --think of my father
And mother in Heaven think of our quiet home,
And the rivulet that ran before the door!
Think of my little sisters! --think of them!
And think of me!
--think of my trusting love
And confidence--his vows--my ruin--think--think
Of my unspeakable misery! --begone!
Yet stay! yet stay! --what was it thou saidst of prayer
And penitence? Didst thou not speak of faith
And vows before the throne?

Monk. I did.

Lal. Lal. 'Tis well.
There is a vow were fitting should be made--
A sacred vow, imperative, and urgent,
A solemn vow!

Monk. Daughter, this zeal is well!

Lal. Father, this zeal is anything but well!