Page:Ancient Ballads and Legends of Hindustan.djvu/60

24 "Ah me, this pain,—'tis getting dark,
 * I see no more,—can this be death?

What means this, gods?—Savitri, mark,
 * My hands wax cold, and fails my breath."

"It may be but a swoon." "Ah! no—
 * Arrows are piercing through my heart,—

Farewell my love! for I must go,
 * This, this is death." He gave one start

And then lay quiet on her lap,
 * Insensible to sight and sound,

Breathing his last. . . . The branches flap
 * And fireflies glimmer all around;

His head upon her breast; his frame
 * Part on her lap, part on the ground,

Thus lies he. Hours pass. Still the same,
 * The pair look statues, magic-bound.