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Days passed : adown the mountain roads
Came weary exiles with their loads
Of household gods and gear ; the men
Built camps in forest or in glen :
The women nursed their babes, and prayed,
And starved. Such misery, arrayed
In such a motley caravan,
Was never seen before by man !
Each day my pretty Bosnian sought
Her parents 'mid the rabble : nought
Could she discover-nor could hear
A word to make her hope or fear.

VII

And so she left us, and her way
Back through ravines where terrors lay
She took. My heart went with the sweet
And faithful maiden, who could meet
All dangers rather than desert
Her loved and loving ones; the hurt
Of her departure was so great
That I was as oppressed by fate.
Untasted from my lips the can
Passed, and I sat a mourning man
Among my fellow-troopers, while
The hours with rout they did beguile.

VIII

One day the bugles blew, and we
At last might set the sufferers free :
We sprang to saddle, and we swore
To sheathe our sabres nevermore
Till Bosnian maids and mothers might
Sing holy songs without affright,
Till Turkish tyranny were dead !
Some noble words our leader said,
And Francis-Joseph had a cheer
It would have made him proud to hear !
To Moslem tyrant's rocky den
The Hapsburg eagles led us then.

IX

In many a fight our trumpets rang :
On precipice's brink the clang
Of weapons echoed, and we frayed
Our path through fire and ambuscade.
The Bashi-Bazouk from his lair
Looked down, with dull and frightened stare,
Upon our columns as they wound
Among the rocks; then on his round
Of massacre and rapine sped.
He hovered at our army's head,
And left a line of blood and fire
In memory of his vengeance

dire.

X We chanced upon a mountain side To see a village burning. 'Ride!' Our leader said, 'as if the land Opened behind ye! Smite with hand Relentless every brigand. Lives Are at the mercy of their knives !' Swift from the earth our horses sprung ; Free to the air our flags we flung ; Flashed in the light our sabres long, As down we dashed among the throng Of murderous banditti, come To desolate each Christian home!

XI

Lord God ! my heart felt agony !
In market-place what did I see
When strife was over ? As I breathe-
As locks made grey that day do wreathe
My temples—I saw, dead, divine,
Upon her naked breast the sign
Of holy cross gashed by a blade
In mockery—my Bosnian maid !

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We laid the saint upon a bier,
And stood in awe.

And now and here I swear my heart died on that day ! What matter if my

hair be grey ?

PRINCE LAZARUS.

(A SERVIAN LEGEND.)

1

PRINCE Lazarus among his chieftains stood

At mystic Kossovo : Around them warriors and prophets good Were ranged, and o'er a purpose seemed to brood.

"To fight the Turk we go To-morrow,' quoth the prince : but, as he spoke, A mighty light upon the heavens broke.

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A falcon with a swallow in his claw

Came swooping down the sky :
And when the priests the birds approaching saw,
They whispered, "'Tis some new revealed law

The saints deign to supply.
For see! the prince as in a vision gropes,
And for supernal revelation hopes !'

III

The falcon and the swallow vanished quite :

The prince fell on his knees : And great Elijah, saintly, noble, white, Appeared all shining with celestial light.

"Rise

up

! and be at ease,' He said ; 'Receive thy message from above; And give attention meekly and in love.

IV

No swallow bring I in my hand to thee ;

But from the Queen of Heaven A letter writ in golden lines, to be Conned o'er and o'er with due humility,

And answer must be given Ere thou dost march against the armèd horde Of savages from Asian plains outpoured.'

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Prince Lazarus the letter took, and read,

And on him fell a fear. He seemed to hear the voices of the dead ; The missive's golden lines were full of dread,

But oh! their sense was clear ! And in his heart he felt a deadly pang, While near his tent the martial trumpets rang.

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