Once by myself when she was yet a child, When I have preached 'gainst vanities and pomps, Empty frivolities and lust of greed, Can I now plead thus, and say, "Daughter mine, Behold what a grand thing it is to be One of the great ones of the earth, and move For ever midst the gay and high-born throng Of lords and ladies without care or pain, With means at hand to gratify each wish, To live the mistress of a noble castle, With serfs at thy command, with gold, with jewels, Dress at thy caprice, and hear around thee Ravishing strains of music in thy halls; Thy gardens, parks, and pleasure grounds rivalling Those of the noblest peers, exciting envy Of all thy neighbours, and this, yes, all this, Thou hast but to reach out thy hand to take; 399Accept the old Don Diego for thy spouse, His castle's thine, and all that therein is; Don't be a fool and throw this chance away Because, forsooth, he's old, somewhat infirm, Unfair to view, irascible and stern, And recklessly give up thy giddy heart To some young spendthrift, all because he's fair; Throw not such a glorious chance away, But make thy father's fortune and thine own?" Is this the strain that I could use to her After my virtuous lessons and wise saws? Could she not answer, "Father, is it thou— Thou who dids't ever counsel me to shun The whispered words of gallants with the wiles And impious vanities of this base world, Dids't inculcate obedience, filial love, As primary virtues ever with the young? Was it that I might blindly, passively Submit my will to thine? Shunning fresh youth; That at thy bidding I might give my hand, Loathing, yet passively, unto a man Whose years do full quadruple mine, and all Because this man has wealth and I have none? Is this thy virtue, father? This the end Of all thy teachings, that I should become The minion, yes, the minion of a dotard?" And would she not be right? Could I look up 400Into her angel's face unblushingly, And with a base hypocrisy reply, "My child, 'tis for thy good. Such is the world." Would she believe me? Would she not despise Me and my words, see through my selfishness? Yet what to do I know not. I am lost. Would not the world itself proclaim me base? Would not the mockers say, "Behold the sage, The philosophic, wise Don Silvio, He who despises wealth and this world's pomp, Yet sells his daughter for Don Diego's gold?" Thus run I counter both to God and man, And mine own conscience. Crushing my child's heart That I might save my own grey head from ruin. Help me, ye saints! for I have need of guidance.      [Kneeling. Soul of my blest departed Dorothea! Assist me with thy counsels, and send down From that high heaven where thou in peace doth dwell A blessing on thy daughter and her sire; It cannot, sure, be that our Inez shall Unwillingly and 

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