And why his look some secret grief betrays?
Whene’er I speak of hope, a sad smile plays
Around his lips awhile, and then ’tis gone:
He pleads for resignation when he prays,
As though some gift were soon to be withdrawn;
Some dear, some cherish’d gift, he’d set his heart upon.
XXII.
O can it be my noble boy must die?
See—dearest Lord! I stretch my hands to thee,
And through my streaming tears I gaze on high,