"Jealous he might be, could he but have seen
"How other lads approach'd where I have been;
"But this man's voice offends his very soul,
"That strange antipathy brooks no control;
"And should I leave him now, or seem unkind,
"The thought would surely wreck his noble mind;
"To leave him thus, and in his utmost need!
"Poor Alfred! then you will be blind indeed!
"I will not leave him."--"Nay, child, do not rave,
"What, would you be his menial, be his slave?"
"Yes," she exclaim'd, and wiped each streaming eye,
"Yes, be his slave, and serve him till I die;
"He is too just to act the tyrant's part,
"He's truth itself." O how my burthen'd heart
Sigh'd for relief!--soon that relief was found;
Without one word we traced the meadow round,
Her feverish hand in mine, and weigh'd the case,
Nor dared to look each other in the face;
Till, with a sudden stop, as if from fear,
I roused her sinking spirit, "Who comes here?"
Down the green slope before us, glowing warm,
Came Alfred, tugging at his mother's arm;
Willing she seem'd, but he still led the way,
She had not walk'd so fast for many a day;
His hand was lifted, and his brow was bare,
For now no clust'ring ringlets wanton'd there,
He threw them back in anger and in spleen,
And shouted "Jennet" o'er the daisied green.
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