laid,
    Freedom and happiness were paid! 
    Yet, could I give my father pain,
    Or treat those lessons with disdain,
    I heard a child upon his knee;
    And, at the present, knew to be
    Entwin’d with every vital part? 
    To scorn them were to break his heart! 
    My mother too, though meek and kind,
    Possessing such a stately mind,
    That once perceiving what was fit,
    If ’twere to die, must still submit;
    Knowing no question in the right,
    Would not have borne me in her sight;
    Though quick her sands of life would run,
    Deserting, angry with her son! 
    Yet noble both, by honour bound,
    To take no other vantage ground,
    They will not use a meaner plea,
    Nor sordid reasons urge to me! 
    Good and high-minded, they will yield: 
    I shall be victor in that field;
    And for my sovereign, we shall find
    Some inlet to his eager mind;
    At once not rashly all disclose,
    His plans or bidding to oppose,—­
    That his quick temper would not brook;
    But I will watch a gracious look,
    And foster an auspicious hour,
    To try both love and reason’s power. 
    Zealous I cannot fail to be,
    Thou canst not guess to what degree,
    Dear Marie, when I plead for thee!’

      “That the result was plain, I knew,
     For I had often heard him sue,
    And never known a boon denied. 
    In secret I became his bride: 
     But heaven the union disapprov’d—­
     The father he so truly lov’d,
     Before this first offence was told,
     Though neither sick, infirm, or old,
    Without a moment’s warning, died!

      “This seal’d his silence for awhile;
     For, till he saw his mother smile,
    Till time the cloud of woe should chace
    From her pale, venerable face,
    He felt the tale he dar’d not break,—­
    He could not on the subject speak! 
    And oh! the gentle mourn so long,
    The faint lament outlasts the strong!

     “Her waning health was fair pretence
    To keep his voyage in suspence;
    But still the king, averse or mute,
    Heard coldly his dejected suit,
    To give the lingering treaty o’er;
    And once exclaim’d, ’Persuade no more! 
    This measure ’tis resolv’d to try! 
    We must that veering subject buy;
    Else, let the enemy advance,
    De Brehan surely sides with France!’”

      The harp again was silent; still
    No fiat of the general will
    Bade her to cease or to proceed: 
    Oft an inquiring eye, indeed,
    The strangers rais’d; but instant check’d,
    Lest the new vassals should suspect
    They thought the monarch’s reasons just,
    And faith so varying brought mistrust. 
    De Brehan, with a bitter smile,
    Eyes closing, lips compress’d the while,
    Although Remorse, with keenest dart,
    And disappointment wrung his heart;
    Although he long’d to thunder—­“Cease!”
    Restrain’d his fury, kept his peace.