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Swiftly from crag to crag he following sprung, 

 While round his neck his shaggy offspring clung ; 

 And now, like some dark tow'r, erect he stood, 

 Where the last rock hung frowning o'er the flood : — 

 " Look ! look ! " he seem'd to say, with action wild, 

 " Look, mother, look ! this babe is still your child ! 

 With him as me all social bonds you break, 

 Scorn'd and detested for his father's sake : 

 My love, my service only wrought disdain, 

 And nature fed his heart from yours in vain ! 

 Then go, Ingrate, far o'er the ocean go, 

 Consign your friend, your child to endless woe ! 

 Renounce us ! hate us ! pleased, your course pursue, 

 And break their hearts who lived alone for you ! " 

 His eyes, which flash'd red fire — his arms spread wide, 

 Her child raised high to heaven — too plain implied, 

 Such were his thoughts, though nature speech denied. 

 And now with eager glance the deep he view'd, 

 And now the barge with savage howl pursued ; 

 Then to his lips his infant wildly press'd, 

 And fondly, fiercely, clasp'd it to his breast : 

 Three piteous moans, three hideous yells he gave, 

 Plunged headlong from the rock, and made the sea his 

 grave. 



XIII. 



Where, screen'd by orange groves and myrtle bowers, 



Saint-favour'd Cintra rears her gothic towers ; 



A nun there dwells, most holy, sad, and fair, 



Her only business penance, fasts, and prayer ; 



Her only joy with flowers the shrines to dress, 



Weep with the suff'ring, and relieve distress. 



A poor lay-sister she ; yet golden rain 



Showers from her hand to glad each barren plain : 



In other eyes she lights up joy, but ne'er 



Those eyes of hers were seen a smile to wear : 



From other breasts she plucks the thorn of grief, 



But feels, her own admits of no relief. 



