To Martin he went without thought of a bribe,
With plans that proved him no churl.
To the top of his mansion the father flew,
A mansion of solid gray stone;
It’s standing yet—and ’twas years that it grew—
A tower defiant, though lone.
The two anxious men looked near and afar,
And at length a glimmer was seen,
A gleam far away, like a dim fallen star,
A token of promising sheen.