"Can eyes that briny torrents steep, Others in strong subjection keep? Yes! here are some that mine obey, And, self-indignant at the sway I hold upon them, turn away! Some, too, who have no cause for shame, Whom even the injur'd cannot blame, Now here, now there, above, below, Their looks of wild avoidance throw! Nay, gentle cousin, blush not so! And do not, pray thee, rise to go! I am bewilder'd with my woe; But hear me fairly to the end, I will not pain thee, nor offend. O no! I would thy favour win; For, when I die, as next of kin, So 'reft am I of human ties, It is thy place to close my eyes! "With state and wealth to thee I part, But could not with De Stafford's heart! Nor could I mute and prudent be When all at once I found 'twas thee, Doom'd ever, in thy own despite, To take my rank, usurp my right! I told, alas! my father's name, The noble stock from which I came:-- 'Marie de Brehan, sounds as well, Perhaps,' I cried, 'as Isabel! And were the elder branch restor'd, (My grandsire was the rightful lord,) I, in my injur'd father's place, Those large domains, that name would grace.' "I never saw a joy so bright, So full, so fledg'd with sparkling light, As that which on the instant flew To his quick eye, when Eustace knew He had not yielded to a yoke Which prudence blam'd, or reason broke. 'O! trebly blest this hour,' he cried; 'I take not now another bride! I bow'd to duty and to pride; But, here I pledge my solemn vow, To wealth alone I will not bow! The only offspring of a race No misalliance did disgrace; Nurtur'd, school'd, fashion'd by their laws, Not wishing an exceptive clause, Till thee, my only choice, I met; And then, with useless, deep regret, I found in birth, and that alone, Thou wert unworthy of a throne! My ancestors appear'd too nice; Their grandeur bore too high a price, If, with it, on the altar 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;