Gonzalvo too . . . My Husband . . .'.
Elvira paused. Her voice faltered, and She concealed her face
with her handkerchief. After a short silence She rose from the
Sopha, and proceeded.
'Excuse my quitting you for a few moments: The remembrance of
what I have suffered has much agitated me, and I need to be
alone. Till I return peruse these lines. After my Husband's
death I found them among his papers; Had I known sooner that He
entertained such sentiments, Grief would have killed me. He
wrote these verses on his voyage to Cuba, when his mind was
clouded by sorrow, and He forgot that He had a Wife and Children.
What we are losing, ever seems to us the most precious: Gonzalvo
was quitting Spain for ever, and therefore was Spain dearer to
his eyes than all else which the World contained. Read them,
Don Lorenzo; They will give you some idea of the feelings of a
banished Man!'
Elvira put a paper into Lorenzo's hand, and retired from the
chamber. The Youth examined the contents, and found them to be
as follows.
THE EXILE
Farewell, Oh! native Spain! Farewell for ever!
These banished eyes shall view thy coasts no more;
A mournful presage tells my heart, that never
Gonzalvo's steps again shall press thy shore.
Hushed are the winds; While soft the Vessel sailing
With gentle motion plows the unruffled Main,
I feel my bosom's boasted courage failing,
And curse the waves which bear me far from Spain.
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