"The priest, in the holy place, blesses the pair,
With joy and with grief she now hence doth repair.
She likes not to part with her father.
The old man is wand'ring now here and now there,
From pain he doth happiness gather.
Thus have I for years kept my daughter in sight,
My grandchild, like her, a sweet treasure;
I bless them by day and I bless them by night"—
The children are list'ning with pleasure.
He blesses the children, he blesses them twice;
There's noise at the gate, it is burst in a trice,
The children the old man environ—
"Why, beggar, why, fool, doth my children entice?
On, seize him, ye men clad in iron!
Away to the dungeon with him!" he repeats;
From far as she hears the harsh measure,
Down hastens the mother, and flatt'ring entreats—
The children, they hear her with pleasure.
The men stand apart from the worthy old man,
Both mother and children beseech all they can;
The princely and proud man represses
The furious rage which their prayers but fan,
Till bursts what his spirit distresses:
"You beggarly brood, high nobility's blight!
My patience you've tried beyond measure;
You bring me destruction! It serves me quite right"—
The children hear this with displeasure.
The noble old man stands with look darting fire,
The men who have seized him still farther retire,
With fury the other is flaring!
"Oft cursed have I wedlock so mean and so dire,
Such blossoms such fruits e'er are bearing!
'Tis justly denied, that acquired be, the grace
E'er can, of nobility's treasure.
