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The maid, devoid of guile and sin,

I know not how, in fearful wise

So deeply had she drunken in

That look, those shrunken serpent eyes,

That all her features were resign'd

To this sole image in her mind:

And passively did imitate

That look of dull and treacherous hate.

And thus she stood, in dizzy trance,

Still picturing that look askance,

With forc'd unconscious sympathy

Full before her father's view

As far as such a look could be,
In eyes so innocent and blue!

But when the trance was o'er, the maid
Paused awhile, and inly pray'd,
Then falling at her father's feet,
"By my mother's soul do I entreat

"That thou this woman send away!"
She said; and more she could not say,
For what she knew she could not tell,
O'er-master'd by the mighty spell.

Why is thy cheek so wan and wild,
Sir Leoline? Thy only child
Lies at thy feet, thy joy, thy pride,
So fair, so innocent, so mild;
The same, for whom thy lady died!
O by the pangs of her dear mother
Think thou no evil of thy child!
For her, and thee, and for no other,
She pray'd the moment, ere she died;
Pray'd that the babe for whom she died,
Might prove her dear lord's joy and pride
That prayer her deadly pangs beguil'd,
Sir Leoline!

And would'st thou wrong thy only child, Her child and thine? Within the Baron's heart and brain If thoughts, like these, had any share, They only swell'd his rage and pain, And did but work confusion there. His heart was cleft with pain and rage, His cheeks they quiver'd, his eyes were wild, Dishonour'd thus in his old age; Dishonour'd by his only child, And all his hospitality To th' insulted daughter of his friend By more than woman's jealousy, Brought thus to a disgraceful end — He roll'd his eye with stern regard Upon the gentle minstrel bard, And said in tones abrupt, austere— Why, Bracy! dost thou loiter here?

I bade thee hence! The bard obey'd;
And turning from his own sweet maid,
The aged knight, Sir Leoline,
Led forth the lady Geraldine!

THE CONCLUSION

TO

PART THE SECOND.

A little child, a limber elf,
Singing, dancing to itself,
A fairy thing with red round cheeks
That always finds, and never seeks,
Makes such a vision to the sight
As fills a father's eyes with light;
And pleasures flow in so thick and fast
Upon his heart, that he at last
Must needs express his love's excess
With words of unmeant bitterness.

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