nance, then assuming a
mournful expression_). It would not be a kindness. Who, my father,
In this wide glorious world is kindred to Anselmo?
I will confess, I sometimes have indulged
Half dreaming thoughts (O say not they are sinful!)
Of the sweet hours of those, who, lapp'd in bliss,
See brothers, sisters, offspring, clust'ring round,
Loving and loved; then have I wept to think
That I have none, and sadly felt convinced
'Tis for my happiness that I am here.

_Sup._ True, my Anselmo, 'tis a dreary world,
And still more dreary when we've nought to cling to,
But say, if thou hadst found a doting mother,
One that was nobly born and rich, who hail'd
In thee the foundling heir to large estates,
What then?

_Ans._ (_starts, and after a pause_).
I cannot say--my thoughts ne'er stray'd so far.
Father, you oft the dangers have set forth
Of dreaming fancies which may lead astray;
Yet do you try to tempt me, by supposing that
Which shakes my firmness, yet can never be.

_Sup._ We are but mortal. I did wish to know
Thy secret thoughts, and thou withhold'st them still.
At night come to me, then shalt thou confess,
For I would learn the workings of thy soul.

_Ans._ First let me strive to calm my troubled mind:
I will confess to-morrow.

_Sup._ Then, be it so. [_Exit Superior._

_Ans._ 'Tis strange. He ne'er before essay'd me thus.
A doting mother, wealthy too, and noble!
O! if 'twere true, and I could gain my freedom!
But these are very dreamings. Hold, my brain!
For he has conjured up a vision wild,
And beautiful as wild! Wealth, ancestry,
A mother's love! But what are these to thee,
Thou monk Anselmo? go--go and hang thy head
Within the cowl, droop'd humbly on thy breast--
For know, thou art a monk, and vow'd to Heav'n!
Oh parents stern! to fling me thus on fate!
But vows more stern that thus debar me from
The common rights of man! Why were we made
With passions strong, that even Nature laughs
When we would fain control them? Lone to live
And die are rebel acts, to Heav'n unpleasing.
Say I were humbly born of peasant race,
I should have glided on the silent brook;
Or highly bred and nobly father'd,
Dash'd proudly like the rapid flowing river.
But in these confines against Nature pent,
I must remain a stagnant torpid lake;
Or else marking my wild course with ruin,
Till my force is spent and all is over,
Burst forth a mad, ungovernable torrent.

_Enter Jacobo._

_Jac._ What Anselmo! not outside the convent