188
THE TROUBADOUR.
But wherefore should I dwell on all
Of sorrow memory can recall,
Enough to know that I must roam
An orphan to a stranger home.—
My father's death in battle field
Forced me a father's rights to yield
To his stern brother; how my heart
Was forced with one by one to part
Of its best hopes, till life became
Existence only in its name;
Left but a single wish,—to share
The cold home where my parents were.
At last I heard, I may not say
How my soul brighten'd into day,
Elvira lived; a miracle
Had surely saved her as she fell!
