And sometimes--465 When to a convent in a meadow green, By a brook-side, we came, a roofless pile, And not by reverential touch of Time Dismantled, but by violence abrupt-- In spite of those heart-bracing colloquies, 470 In spite of real fervour, and of that Less genuine and wrought up within myself-- I could not but bewail a wrong so harsh, And for the Matin-bell to sound no more Grieved, and the twilight taper, and the cross 475 High on the topmost pinnacle, a sign (How welcome to the weary traveller's eyes!) Of hospitality and peaceful rest.
And when the partner of those varied walks Pointed upon occasion to the site 480 Of Romorentin, home of ancient kings, [T] To the imperial edifice of Blois, [U] Or to that rural castle, name now slipped From my remembrance, where a lady lodged, [V] By the first Francis wooed, and bound to him 485 In chains of mutual passion, from the tower, As a tradition of the country tells, Practised to commune with her royal knight By cressets and love-beacons, intercourse 'Twixt her high-seated residence and his 490 Far off at Chambord on the plain beneath; [W] Even here, though less than with the peaceful house Religious, 'mid those frequent monuments Of Kings, their vices and their better deeds, Imagination, potent to inflame 495 At times with virtuous wrath and noble scorn, Did also often mitigate the force Of civic prejudice, the bigotry, So call it, of a youthful patriot's mind; And on these spots with many gleams I looked 500 Of chivalrous delight.

Yet not the less, Hatred of absolute rule, where will of one Is law for all, and of that barren pride In them who, by immunities unjust, Between the sovereign and the people stand, 505 His helper and not theirs, laid stronger hold Daily upon me, mixed with pity too And love; for where hope is, there love will be For the abject multitude.

And when we chanced One day to meet a hunger-bitten girl, 510 Who crept along fitting her languid gait Unto a heifer's motion, by a cord Tied to her arm, and picking thus from the lane Its sustenance, while the girl with pallid hands Was busy knitting in a heartless mood 515 Of solitude, and at the sight my friend In agitation said, "'Tis against 'that' That we are fighting," I with him believed That a benignant spirit was abroad Which might not be withstood, that poverty 520 Abject as this would in a little time Be found no more, that we should see the earth Unthwarted in her wish to recompense The meek, the lowly, patient child of toil, All institutes for ever blotted out 525 That legalised exclusion, empty pomp Abolished, sensual state and cruel power, Whether by edict of the one or few; And finally, as sum and crown of all, Should see the people having a strong hand 530 In framing their own laws; whence better days To all mankind.

But, these things set apart, Was not this single confidence enough To animate the mind that ever turned A thought to human welfare?
That henceforth 535 Captivity by mandate without law Should cease; and open accusation lead To sentence in the hearing of the world, And open punishment, if not the air Be free to breathe in, and the heart of man 540 Dread nothing.

From this height I shall not stoop To humbler matter that detained us oft In thought or conversation, public acts, And public persons, and emotions wrought Within the breast, as ever-varying winds 545 Of record or report swept over us; But I might here, instead, repeat a tale, [X] Told by my Patriot friend, of sad events, That prove to what low depth had struck the roots, How widely spread the boughs, of that old tree 550 Which, as a deadly mischief, and a foul And black dishonour, France was weary of.
Oh, happy time of youthful lovers, (thus The story might begin).