Beneath that tree, while yet it was a tree, 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 : To gather seeds of wild flowers, and to plant them 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, And though he prayed, he never loved to pray But yet his speech, it was so soft and sweet, 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 How sweet it were on lake or wild savannah, Leoni doted on the youth, and now His love grew desperate; and defying death, 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, |