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A DRAMATIC FRAGMENT.
FOSTER-MOTHER. I never saw the man whom
MARIA. 'Tis strange! he spake of you familiarly As mine and Albert's common Foster-mother.
FOSTER-MOTHER. Now blessings on the man, whoe'er he be, That joined your names with mine! O my
sweet lady, As often as I think of those dear times When you two little ones would stand at eve On each side of my chair, and make me learn All you had learnt in the day; and how to talk In gentle phrase, then bid me sing to you'Tis more like heaven to come than what has MARIA. O my dear Mother! this strange man has left
Troubled with wilder fancies, than the moon
Can no one hear? It is a perilous tale!
FOSTER-MOTHER. My husband's father told it me, Poor old Leoni !--Angels rest his soul! He was a woodman, and could fell and sawa With lusty arm. You know that huge round
beam Which props the hanging wall of the old chapel? Beneath that tree, while vet 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,
And whistled, as he were a bird himself:
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
vear, 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
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
And cast into that hole. My husband's father
'Tis a sweet tale: Such as would lull a listening child to sleep, His rosy face besoiled with unwiped tears. 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