Auffredy soon found that his liberty was gone while he gazed upon her, but his modesty prevented his attempting to declare his passion, though in his lays he took occasion to express all the feelings he experienced, and he saw with delight, not only that the charming Beatrix listened with pleased attention when he sung, but was even moved to tears when he uttered the lamentations of an unhappy lover.
Upon one occasion he sang a lay which Queen Elionore imagined was inspired by herself; but which, in reality, he intended should convey to Beatrix his timid passion; it was as follows--in the style of the Eastern poets, then so much imitated and admired:-- LAY.
"I only beg a smile from thee For all this world of tenderness; I let no eye my weakness see, To none my hopes or fears express; I never speak thy praises now, My tongue is mute, and cold my brow.
"Even like that fabled bird am I Who loves the radiant orb of night, Sings on in hopeless melody And feeds upon her beams of light; But never does the planet deign To pity his unceasing pain." As he sung he would observe the eyes of Beatrix fixed on him with a tender expression; but their meaning was still obscure; for her thoughts appeared pre-occupied, and it might be more the sentiment than the author which attracted her.
Just at this time he was suddenly astounded by the information, that the uncle of her he loved had announced his intention of marrying her to a man of noble lineage and great wealth, and Auffredy woke from his dream of happiness at once.

His strains were now all gloom and sadness, and Elionore heard, with something like astonishment, the melancholy and despairing lays, to which alone he tuned the harp that all delighted to hear.

Beatrix, too, whose wishes had not been consulted on a subject so important to herself, appeared quite changed from the tune the tidings first reached her; and her pale cheek and starting tears proved too plainly her aversion to the proposed union.

Still did she linger near when Auffredy sung; and when, in a passion of sorrow, he poured forth the lay here given, Beatrix betrayed an emotion for which he feared to account.
LAY.
"Like that fair tree whose tender boughs Wave in the sunshine green and bright, Nor bird nor insect e'er allows To seek its shelter morn or night, My heart was young, and fresh, and free, And near it came nor care nor pain; But now, like that same tender tree, When once rude hands its fruit profane, Ill-omen'd birds and shapes of ill Troop to its branches, crowding still,-- And sorrows never known till now Have cast their shadows on my brow: A ruin is my heart become Where brooding sadness finds a home; See--those bright leaves fall, one by one, And I--my latest hopes are gone!" This was the last time he had ever an opportunity of pouring forth his feelings in the presence of Beatrix; for she disappeared suddenly from Court, and, to the amazement of all, it was announced by her uncle, that her vocation for a religious life had been so decidedly manifested, that he had yielded to her entreaties, and permitted her to enter a convent.
This news made a strange impression on the mind of Auffredy,--could it be possible, after all, that she loved him?
yet, he argued, even if it were so, it was evident that her pride of birth had overcome her preference, and she had sacrificed the feelings of her heart rather than descend to be the bride of a merchant, who, though wealthy beyond all the nobles of the land, was yet no match for one born in her exalted rank.

From that time the troubadour sang no more; and as the Queen found he had no longer incense to lay on her shrine, her preference for him waned away, and he found that the permission he asked, to absent himself from her Court was not withheld.