Stumbling on the unsteady ground The maid, alas! her thoughts are gone, That look, those shrunken serpent eyes, And passively did imitate That look of dull and treacherous hate! And thus she stood, in dizzy trance, Still picturing that look askance With forced unconscious sympathy In eyes so innocent and blue! And when the trance was o'er, the maid Paused awhile, and inly prayed: Then falling at the Baron's feet, 'By my mother's soul do I entreat That thou this woman send away!" Why is thy cheek so wan and wild, She prayed the moment ere she died: Prayed that the babe for whom she died, Might prove her dear lord's joy and pride! That prayer her deadly pangs beguiled, Sir Leoline! And wouldst thou wrong thy only child, Her child and thine? Within the Baron's heart and brain Dishonored by his only child, To the wrong'd daughter of his friend Led forth the lady Geraldine! THE CONCLUSION TO PART II. A LITTLE child, a limber elf, A fairy thing with red round cheeks, Must needs express his love's excess (0 sorrow and shame should this be true!) So talks as it's most used to do. |