Constance De Castile A Poem, in Ten Cantos. By William Sotheby |
 |
|
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
 | IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
| XII. |
| XIII. |
| XIV. |
| XV. |
| XVI. |
| XVII. |
| XVIII. |
| XIX. |
| XX. |
| XXI. |
| XXII. |
| XXIII. |
| XXIV. |
| XXV. |
| XXVI. |
| XXVII. | XXVII. |
| XXVIII. |
| XXIX. |
| XXX. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
 | Constance De Castile |  |
XXVII.
'Twas, when Maria sunk to rest,
The new-born Constance on her breast,
When Pedro o'er her fondly hung,
The blessing trembling on his tongue,
From the last kiss of Ellenor,
The Nuns her hapless Orphan bore.
Laid on Maria's couch, the child
Look'd on her face, and sweetly smil'd.
“Hence!—the stern Monarch fiercely cried—
“Hence! with some nameless peasant place
“That stain of the Castillian race.”
The new-born Constance on her breast,
When Pedro o'er her fondly hung,
The blessing trembling on his tongue,
From the last kiss of Ellenor,
The Nuns her hapless Orphan bore.
Laid on Maria's couch, the child
Look'd on her face, and sweetly smil'd.
“Hence!—the stern Monarch fiercely cried—
“Hence! with some nameless peasant place
“That stain of the Castillian race.”
Maria's sigh alone replied.
She thought on Ellen, dead and gone,
And the orphan in a world alone;
Then—clasp'd to her maternal breast
The babes, caressing and carest,
Their arms in innocence entwin'd.—
That sight o'erpower'd stern Pedro's mind,—
“So, peaceful, on that bosom rest!
“So pass,”—he cried—“your infant year!”
And blest them with a Father's tear.
96
And the orphan in a world alone;
Then—clasp'd to her maternal breast
The babes, caressing and carest,
Their arms in innocence entwin'd.—
That sight o'erpower'd stern Pedro's mind,—
“So, peaceful, on that bosom rest!
“So pass,”—he cried—“your infant year!”
And blest them with a Father's tear.
| Constance De Castile | |