And taught her to preserve its stately grace And now when in her twentieth year she sought And they fled. He faltered on the cruel road, and now Lay dead before her. 'Twas a simple tale, And simply told but every word that rose, The anxious shepherd came, Then I Upon my shoulders took the dead; the guide Gave food and water to the trembling girl, Hard by a torrent's course. The sun had set Before we dared to venture forth anew. In shadowed silence we had made a grave, And laid the priest within it; from the spot We led the weeping maid, who asked to die Beside her benefactor's tomb. Her woe Tore my fond heart as briars tear the flesh. IX. IN THE INSURGENTS' CAMP. AND when the dawning came again to set Below us, in a patch Of stunted olives, lay the Slavic camp. The maiden trembled at the armèd men Who thronged about us, shaking matted locks In voices over bold, when down at last And to the camp we came. Wild men were these, With silvered breastplates on; with cruel knives F Set in their belts ; with guns bedecked with gems— All night upon the rocks, nor ever asked Who laughed when homeward with a Turkish head -Saint Stephen's knight to war against the Turk,- And to her blessèd orbs the tears arose, As dew springs on the petals of the flowers, Then she told The story of our meeting; and the men 'The saints,' she said, 'have set him on my path, That I may serve him; and, from this day forth, I humbly follow him, to do his will.' In Greek she told me this, and, blushing, knelt Protector and defender of the saints, And not their pillager! A miracle ! While grizzled warriors still crouched, and youths Prayed me to bid them do some daring deed Against the Turk, I raised the maiden up, And kissed her hands, her forehead, and her hair, With kisses pure as prayer of holy priest, And murmured in her ear, 'I love thee! Stay By me and light my pathway with thine eyes, |