gain;

"For they say that he for love's sake
Was gladly banished,
But she for whom he was banished
Is worse to him, now, than dead,--

"A recreant to his sorrow,
A traitress to his woe."
From her place the Marchioness rises,
The minstrel turns to go.

But fast by the hand she takes him,--
His hand in her clasp is cold,--
"If gold may be thy guerdon
Thou shalt not lack for gold;

"And if the love of a mother
Can bless thee for that thou hast done,
Thou shalt stay and be his brother,
Thou shalt stay and be my son."

"Nay, my lady," answered the minstrel,
And his face is deadly pale,
"Nay, this must not be, sweet lady,
But let my words prevail.

"Let me go now from your presence,
And I will come again,
When you stand with your son beside you,
And be your servant then."

VI.

At the feet of the Marquis Gonzaga
Kneels his lady on the floor;
"Lord, grant me before I ask it
The thing that I implore."

"So it be not of that ingrate."--
"Nay, lord, it is of him."
'Neath the stormy brows of the Marquis
His eyes are tender and dim.

"He lies sick of a fever in Naples,
Near unto death, as they tell,
In his need and pain forsaken
By the wanton he loved so well.

"Now send for him and forgive him,
If ever thou loved'st me,
Now send for him and forgive him
As God shall be good to thee."

"Well so,--if he turn in repentance
And bow himself to my will;
That the high-born lady I chose him
May be my daughter still."

VII.

In Mantua there is feasting
For the Marquis' grace to his son;
In Mantua there is rejoicing
For the prince come back to his own.

The pomp of a wedding procession
Pauses under the pillared porch,
With silken rustle and whisper,
Before the door of the church.

In the midst, Federigo the bridegroom
Stands with his high-born bride;
The six true-hearted comrades
Are three on either side.

The bridegroom is gray as his father,
Where they stand face to face,
And the six true-hearted comrades
Are like old men in their place.

The Marquis takes the comrades
And kisses them one by one:
"That ye were fast and faithful
And better than I to my son,

"Ye shall be called forever,
In the sign that ye were so true,
The Faithful of the Gonzaga,
And your sons after you."

VIII.