I had not then my honour’s victim been;
I must be honest, yet I know not how,
’Tis crime to break, and death to keep my vow.”
Sir Owen closely watch’d both maid and man,
And saw with joy proceed his cruel plan;
Then gave his praise—“She has it—has it deep 430}
In her capricious heart—it murders sleep; }
You see the looks that grieve, you see the eyes that weep; }
Now breathe again, dear youth, the kindling fire,
And let her feel what she could once inspire.”