D. Sil. In vain the consolations of deep science, The chiding voice of grave philosophy, To wean us from our earthly fond affections, When once deep-rooted in our bosom's core. Paternal love, surviving youthful passion, As autumn's deep'ning tints the summer's green, Remains mature till the cold wintry blast Of death hath scattered its last quivering leaf, And driven us, whither? I have a daughter, Than whom no saint in heaven purer is. Fair and virtuous Inez! Sole object left Me now to love on earth of all my kin. An old man's pride, and only legacy Of my late spouse, the sainted Dorothea. Who, giving birth to this fair angel, left, After ten years of childless married life, This, my poor helpless babe, but in exchange For her own precious self. Long unconsoled For this, my doleful loss, I sought once more 394Relief from sorrow in those studies deep, Abandoned since my manhood's prime, when I In Salamanca's university, Did strive for honors, my child consigning To a certain faithful old retainer, The good Rodriguez, who in lieu of mother Did rear the tender babe until it grew To years maturer, when I thought it fit To rescue her from out the hands of one Who, whatsoe'er her care maternal be, Is yet too full of vanity to make A good instructress to my only child, Whom I designed to educate in mode Far different from that in which Rodriguez And all her worldly tribe would seek to do. With this my aim in view, I took the child Away from home whilst yet her mind was tender, And placing her under my sister's care, The Lady Abbess of Saint Ursula— A convent distant thirty miles from hence— I left her until she should reach such age As maidens having made due preparations Are deemed fit to marry. Scarce sixteen Is now my daughter Inez; far too young To face without a guide the many wiles And dire temptations of this giddy world; I fain would keep her longer there, but then, 395Then comes the thought that harasses my soul. Having in youth squandered my patrimony, Wasting my substance that I might procure Expensive books and likewise instruments I needed in the fond pursuits of science, In gratifiying literary tastes, And other fancies, thus I soon became Deeply indebted to my richer neighbour, The valiant Don Diego, who, much loath To see an old house ruined, hath full oft From time to time with liberal hand advanced Such sums as I could ne'er hope to repay. This knew he, too, full well, and having seen Once my little daughter at the castle, And fancying much her beauty, thereupon Did make what he then doubtless did consider An offer fair and not to be refused By me, a desperate man—his debtor, too— An offer, namely, for my daughter's hand When she should have attained her sixteenth year; And this he gave me well to understand Would be the only way that 

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