Slain by the reaper ’neath an August sky,
For there again shoots up, of equal worth,
Some other esculent to gladden earth.
No!—Arnold’s living; yet for ever dead;
His name is spoken, but with constant dread:
No longer shall he lift the wine-cup there,—
Ne’er more be welcom’d as the “lordly heir.”)
[171] One of her poor mother’s dresses.
[172] His daughter’s statement.
[173] The Prews.