University of Virginia Library

XLIV.

Sebastian paused, and turn'd. “Yet silent? Boy:
Thank Heaven, my blood was spared that base alloy;
Was it not well?” The youth replied, “'Twas well.
She was a wretch. She's dead.” His accent fell.
“What!—have you seen her?”—“Yes, on that proud night,
When every heart, but one, but her's, was light;—
'T was at the palace pageant; on the eve
Of my lord's mournful bridal. Oh forgive—
My careless hand no more shall touch that string.
She clung to life, as shipwreck'd wretches cling,
When the next wave must sweep them from the shore.
Her cheek was whiter than the veil she wore;
She mingled with the festive crowd unknown,
Tasting her desperate joy;—her die was thrown!”—
“The day before her vows! the world was dear;”
“She loved it not; she had high business there.”
“Know you her further story?” “Nothing—No.”
“You weep.” “'Tis childish, weak, but tears will flow.
She was the daughter of the lord I loved;
Sidonia's vassal, could I see unmoved
His loved one sink, beyond my baffled art,
Sink in the sickness of the broken heart?”
“What plunged her in the convent.” “Madness all;
The phrensied piety that's sure to fall.”
“Rash sufferer! but she quickly sought her cure;
She fled, and with—” “Oh, with no paramour.”
“A page was seen—” “No, as yon heaven is high,
She had no paramour! That page was—I.”