« ForrigeFortsæt »
A Narration in Dramatic Blank Verse.
But that entrance, Mother!
Can no one hear? It is a perilous tale !
My husband's father told it me, Poor old Leoni ! -Angels rest his soul ! He was a woodman, and could fell and saw With lusty arm. You know that huge round beam Which props the hanging wall of the old chapel ;
Beneath that tree, while yet it was a true
soon could write with the pen : and from that time, Lived chiefly at the Convent or the Castle. So he became a very learned youth. But Oh! poor wretch-he read, and read, and read, 'Till his brain turned-and ere his twentieth year,
He had unlawful thoughts of many things :
Leoni doted on the youth, and now
'Tis a sweet tale.
And what became of him ?
He went on ship-board With those bold voyagers, who made discovery Of golden lands. Leoni's younger brother Went likewise, and when he returned to Spain, He told Leoni, that the poor mad youth, Soon after they arrived in that new world, In spite of his dissuasion, seized a boat, And all alone, set sail by silent moonlight Up a great river, great as any sea, And ne'er was heard of more : but 'tis supposed, He lived and died among the savage men.