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Constance De Castile

A Poem, in Ten Cantos. By William Sotheby

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VIII.

Impatient, ere the banquet's close
In act to speak as Julian rose,

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And turn'd the starting tear to hide:
“Pause, youth!”—the Prince benignly cried,
“If fitter hour, or needful rest,
“Or other audience suit thee best:
“Though fain would Edward fully know
“Of Constance, and her tale of woe.
“Fain hear Castillia's page unfold,
“If true, what rumour widely told
“Of the fell Paynim's ruthless host,
“That seiz'd her on Corunna's coast,
“And slew the youth who strove to aid—
“Say, breathes she yet, that far-fam'd Maid?”