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Her Brother was it who assailed
Her tender spirit and prevailed.
Her other Parent, too, whose head
In the cold grave hath long been laid,
From reason’s earliest dawn beguiled
The docile, unsuspecting Child:
Far back-far back my mind must go
To reach the well-spring of this woe !—
While thus he brooded, music sweet
Was played to chear them in retreat;
But Norton lingered in the rear:
Thought followed thought—and ere the last
Of that unhappy train was past,
Before him Francis did appear.
“Now when ’tis not your aim to oppose,”
Said he, “in open field your Foes ;
Now that from this decisive day
Your multitude must melt away,
