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Beneath that tree, while yet it was a tree,
With thistle-beards, and such small locks of wool
As hang on brambles. Well, he brought him home,
A pretty boy, but most unteachable—
And never learnt a prayer, nor told a bead,
But knew the names of birds, and mocked their
And whistled, as he were a bird himself :
To gather seeds of wild flowers, and to plant them
Lived chiefly at the Convent or the Castle.
So he became a very learned youth.
But, Oh! poor wretch-he read, and read, and read,
And though he prayed, he never loved to pray
But yet his speech, it was so soft and sweet,
A fever seized him, and he made confession
Of all the heretical and lawless talk
Which brought this judgment: so the youth was seized
And cast into that cell. My husband's father
Sobbed like a child-it almost broke his heart:
And once as he was working near the cell
Leoni doted on the youth, and now
His love grew desperate; and defying death,
'Tis a sweet tale.
And what became of him?
He went on ship-board,
With those bold voyagers who made discovery Of golden lands. Leoni's younger brother
Went likewise; and when he returned to Spain, He told Leoni, that the poor mad youth,
Soon after they arrived in that new world,
And, all alone, set sail by silent moonlight
And ne'er was heard of more: but 'tis supposed
He lived and died among the