Doomed to a third and last captivity, His freedom he recovered on the eve Of Julia's travail. When the babe was born, Its presence tempted him to cherish schemes Of future happiness. "You shall return, 190 Julia," said he, "and to your father's house Go with the child.--You have been wretched; yet The silver shower, whose reckless burthen weighs Too heavily upon the lily's head, Oft leaves a saving moisture at its root. 195 Malice, beholding you, will melt away. Go!--'tis a town where both of us were born; None will reproach you, for our truth is known; And if, amid those once-bright bowers, our fate Remain unpitied, pity is not in man. 200 With ornaments--the prettiest, nature yields Or art can fashion, shall you deck our [12] boy, And feed his countenance with your own sweet looks Till no one can resist him.--Now, even now, I see him sporting on the sunny lawn; 205 My father from the window sees him too; Startled, as if some new-created thing Enriched the earth, or Faery of the woods Bounded before him;--but the unweeting Child Shall by his beauty win his grandsire's heart 210 So that it shall be softened, and our loves End happily, as they began!" These gleams Appeared but seldom; oftener was he seen Propping a pale and melancholy face 215 Upon the Mother's bosom; resting thus His head upon one breast, while from the other The Babe was drawing in its quiet food. --That pillow is no longer to be thine, Fond Youth! that mournful solace now must pass 220 Into the list of things that cannot be! Unwedded Julia, terror-smitten, hears The sentence, by her mother's lip pronounced, That dooms her to a convent.--Who shall tell, Who dares report, the tidings to the lord 225 Of her affections? so they blindly asked Who knew not to what quiet depths a weight Of agony had pressed the Sufferer down: The word, by others dreaded, he can hear Composed and silent, without visible sign 230 Of even the least emotion. Noting this, When the impatient object of his love Upbraided him with slackness, he returned No answer, only took the mother's hand And kissed it; seemingly devoid of pain, 235 Or care, that what so tenderly he pressed Was a dependant on [13] the obdurate heart Of one who came to disunite their lives For ever--sad alternative! preferred, By the unbending Parents of the Maid, 240 To secret 'spousals meanly disavowed. --So be it!