And cast the darkness of my branded name
(For so he deem’d it) on the clear renown,
My own ancestral heritage of fame.
And yet he bless’d me! Father! if the dust
Lie on those lips benign, my spirit’s trust
Is to behold thee yet, where grief and shame
Dim the bright day no more; and thou wilt know
That not through guilt thy son thus bow’d thine age with woe!
XXX.
And thou, my Leonor! that unrepining,