hand
  Slew, and as quickly to a second gave [6]
  A perilous wound—­he shuddered to behold
  The breathless corse; then peacefully resigned
  His person to the law, was lodged in prison, 135
  And wore the fetters of a criminal.

    Have you observed [7] a tuft of winged seed
  That, from the dandelion’s naked stalk,
  Mounted aloft, is suffered not to use
  Its natural gifts for purposes of rest, 140
  Driven by the autumnal whirlwind to and fro
  Through the wide element? or have you marked
  The heavier substance of a leaf-clad bough,
  Within the vortex of a foaming flood,
  Tormented? by such aid you may conceive 145
  The perturbation that ensued; [8]—­ah, no! 
  Desperate the Maid—­the Youth is stained with blood;
  Unmatchable on earth is their disquiet! [9]
  Yet [10] as the troubled seed and tortured bough
  Is Man, subjected to despotic sway. 150

    For him, by private influence with the Court,
  Was pardon gained, and liberty procured;
  But not without exaction of a pledge,
  Which liberty and love dispersed in air. 
  He flew to her from whom they would divide him—­155
  He clove to her who could not give him peace—­
  Yea, his first word of greeting was,—­“All right
  Is gone from me; my lately-towering hopes,
  To the least fibre of their lowest root,
  Are withered; thou no longer canst be mine, 160
  I thine—­the conscience-stricken must not woo
  The unruffled Innocent,—­I see thy face,
  Behold thee, and my misery is complete!”

    “One, are we not?” exclaimed the Maiden—­“One,
  For innocence and youth, for weal and woe?” 165
  Then with the father’s name she coupled words
  Of vehement indignation; but the Youth
  Checked her with filial meekness; for no thought
  Uncharitable crossed his mind, no sense
  Of hasty anger rising in the eclipse [11] 170
  Of true domestic loyalty, did e’er
  Find place within his bosom.—­Once again
  The persevering wedge of tyranny
  Achieved their separation:  and once more
  Were they united,—­to be yet again 175
  Disparted, pitiable lot!  But here
  A portion of the tale may well be left
  In silence, though my memory could add
  Much how the Youth, in scanty space of time,
  Was traversed from without; much, too, of thoughts 180
  That occupied his days in solitude
  Under privation and restraint; and what,
  Through dark and shapeless fear of things to come,
  And what, through strong compunction for the past,
  He suffered—­breaking down in heart and mind! 185