But when he told that fearful day,
And how her feet were led
To where entombed in life he lay,
The breathing with the dead,
And how she bruised her tender breasts
Against the crushing stone,
That still the strong-armed clown protests
No man can lift alone,—
Oh! then the frozen spring was broke;
By turns she wept and smiled;—
"Sweet Agnes!" so the mother spoke,
"God bless my angel child.
"She saved thee from the jaws of death,—
'T is thine to right her wrongs;
I tell thee,—I, who gave thee breath,—
To her thy life belongs!"
Thus Agnes won her noble name,
Her lawless lover's hand;
The lowly maiden so became
A lady in the land!
PART SIXTH
CONCLUSION
The tale is done; it little needs
To track their after ways,
And string again the golden beads
Of love's uncounted days.
They leave the fair ancestral isle
For bleak New England's shore;
How gracious is the courtly smile
Of all who frowned before!
Again through Lisbon's orange bowers
They watch the river's gleam,
And shudder as her shadowy towers
Shake in the trembling stream.