_Sup._ To see if he will turn his thoughts to Heav'n; But, look, he moves this way. Leave me with him. [_Exit Manuel, and enter Anselmo._ Where hast thou been, my child? _Ans._ Lending mine ear to those who would unload A conscience heavy with repeated sin-- Giving advice and absolution free To those who riot in a sinful world. _Sup._ Yet still be lenient. We in holy bonds Expect not men exposed, to be so perfect. Tell me, for lately thou hast not confess'd, How throbs thy heart? Do holy thoughts prevail? Art thou at peace within, or does thy youth Regret its vow, and yield to vain repinings? _Ans._ I am, most holy father, as Heav'n made me-- Content, and not content, as in their turns The good or evil thoughts will be ascendant. When that the evil thoughts the mastery gain, I try to curb them. Man can do no more. _Sup._ At thy rebelling age, 'tis doing much. Now put my question to thy inmost soul And answer me:--could'st thou rejoin the world And all its pleasures, now so bright in fancy To youth's all ardent mind, tell me sincerely, Would'st thou reject them? _Ans._ Why call in question that which ne'er can be? My vows are ta'en, therefore no choice is mine. _Sup._ Most things are possible to mother church, As would this be--a dispensation sought Might be obtain'd. _Ans._ (_at first with joy in his countenance, then assuming a mournful expression_). It would not be a kindness. Who, my father, In this wide glorious world is kindred to Anselmo? I will confess, I sometimes have indulged Half dreaming thoughts (O say not they are sinful!) Of the sweet hours of those, who, lapp'd in bliss, See brothers, sisters, offspring, clust'ring round, Loving and loved; then have I wept to think That I have none, and sadly felt convinced 'Tis for my happiness that I am here. _Sup._ True, my Anselmo, 'tis a dreary world, And still more dreary when we've nought to cling to, But say, if thou hadst found a doting mother, One that was nobly born and rich, who hail'd In thee the foundling heir to large estates, What then? _Ans._ (_starts, and after a pause_). I cannot say--my thoughts ne'er stray'd so far. Father, you oft the dangers have set forth Of dreaming fancies which may lead astray; Yet do you try to tempt me, by supposing that Which shakes my firmness, yet can never be. _Sup._ We are but mortal. I did wish to know Thy secret thoughts, and thou withhold'st them still. At night come to me, then shalt thou confess, For I would learn the workings of thy soul. _Ans._ First let me strive to calm my troubled mind: I will confess to-morrow. _Sup._ Then, be it so. [_Exit Superior._