And talk’d, while sullenly the waves would sound
Dashing the sandy shore. Saint Hubert’s eyes
Would swim in tears of fondness, mix’d with joy,
When he observ’d the op’ning harvest rich
Of promis’d intellect, which Henry’s soul,
Whate’er the subject of their talk, display’d.
Oft, the bold Youth, in question intricate,
Would seek to know the story of his birth;
Oft ask, who bore him: and with curious skill
Enquire, why he, and only one beside,