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Beneath that tree, while yet it was a tree,
He found a baby wrapt in mosses lined

With thistle-beards, and such small locks of wool

As hang on brambles. Well, he brought him home,
And reared him at the then Lord Velez' cost.
And so the babe grew up a pretty boy,

A pretty boy, but most unteachable

And never learnt a prayer, nor told a bead,

But knew the names of birds, and mocked their

notes,

And whistled, as he were a bird himself:

And all the autumn 'twas his only play

To gather seeds of wild flowers, and to plant them
With earth and water on the stumps of trees.
A Friar, who sought for simples in the wood,
A gray-haired man-he loved this little boy,
The boy loved him--and, when the Friar taught him,
He 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:

And though he prayed, he never loved to pray
With holy men, nor in a holy place-

But yet his speech, it was so soft and sweet,

The late Lord Velez ne'er was wearied with him. And once, as by the north side of the Chapel They stood together, chained in deep discourse, The earth heaved under them with such a groan, That the wall tottered, and had well-nigh fallen Right on their heads. My Lord was sorely frightened;

A fever seized him, and he made confession

Of all the heretical and lawless talk

Which brought this judgment: so the youth was seized

And cast into that cell. My husband's father

Sobbed like a child-it almost broke his heart:

And once as he was working near the cell
He heard a voice distinctly; 'twas the youth's,
Who sang a doleful song about green fields,

How sweet it were on lake or wild savannah,
To hunt for food, and be a naked man,
And wander up and down at liberty.

Leoni doted on the youth, and now

His love grew desperate; and defying death,
He made that cunning entrance I described:
And the young man escaped.

MARIA.

'Tis a sweet tale.

And what became of him?

FOSTER-MOTHER.

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,

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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.

THE

THORN.

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