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Avow'd the secret marriage pride conceal'd. He died; and now his lonely orphan's fate Was in the new Count's hands, and he play'd false: The boy was left in poor obscurity, The mother's claim put down, and fraud and strife Grasp'd their inheritance. That unjust lord, The curse was on him,—one by one they died, The children, for whose sake he sold his soul. One only daughter cheer'd his desolate house! And all search for the orphan was in vain, Till chance restored him, and her father sought To make her his atonement.

Count, no more! I know the history, though till now I deem'd