A fretful spirit reign’d, and discontent
From room to room in sullen silence went;
And the kind widow was distress’d at heart
To think that she no comfort could impart:
“But he will go,” she said, “and he will strive
In fields of glorious energy to drive
Love from his bosom—Yes, I then may stay,
And all will thank me on a future day.” 750
So judged the lady, nor appear’d to grieve,
Till the young soldier came to take his leave;