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Ha! does she hope deliverance from death?

O no! thou wrongest her, friend; it is not that: Deliverance is her fear, and death her hope, A second time she bears a mother's throes For her young stripling, whose exalted birth To endless life is at this fearful crisis, Or earned or lost. May heaven forfend the last! He is a timid youth, and soft of nature: God grant him strength to bear that fearful proof!

Here comes our reverend father.

What tidings dost thou bring? are they in bliss?

Yes, daughter, as I trust, they are ere this In high immortal bliss. Cælus alone—

He hath apostatised! O woe is me! O woe is me for his most wretched mother!

Apostatised! No; stripling as he is, His fortitude, where all were braced and brave, Shone paramount.