Someone the speaker cares for collapses — his power fails — and instead of falling with him, she feels herself straighten and strengthen. She sings to him, steadies him with hymns, and when the cold sweat of illness or death loosens its grip, she meets his need directly, comfort for comfort. She tells him that even the bravest must pass through the body’s frailty and into the grave, but she also offers a vision of a lasting world where loyalty is remembered. What unfolds is a quiet, intimate rescue: she lifts him using a hidden, muscular force that rises from her words and from some deep, sudden knowing she can’t explain. The mood is tender and resolute — full of whispered power, like a bedside vigil turning into a moment of shared transcendence.
I rose -- because He sank -- — Summary
I rose -- because He sank -- I thought it would be opposite -- But when his power dropped -- My Soul grew straight.
I cheered my fainting Prince -- I sang firm -- even -- Chants -- I helped his Film -- with Hymn --
And when the Dews drew off That held his Forehead stiff -- I met him -- Balm to Balm --
I told him Best -- must pass Through this low Arch of Flesh -- No Casque so brave It spurn the Grave --
I told him Worlds I knew Where Emperors grew -- Who recollected us If we were true --
And so with Thews of Hymn -- And Sinew from within -- And ways I knew not that I knew -- till then -- I lifted Him --