Page:The Family Legend.pdf/137

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Too much the woeful widower's alter'd looks Upon thy face I see.

You see, my lord, his eyes with too much weeping Are weak, and shun the light. Nor should we marvel: What must to him the sudden loss have been, When even to us, who were more distantly Connected with her rare and matchless virtue, It brought such keen affliction?

Yes, good Lochtarish, I did give her to ye— To your right worthy chief, a noble creature, With every kindly virtue—every grace That might become a noble chieftain's wife: And that ye have so well esteem'd—so well Regarded, cherish'd, and respected her, As your excessive sorrow now declares, Receive from me a grateful father's thanks. Lochtarish, most of all to thy good love I am beholden.

Ah! small was the merit Such goodness to respect.