Page:Cheskian Anthology.pdf/222



"A shadowy form I come from Babigōr;

Sent by thy country to her doubting son—

O! on love's triflings waste thy soul no more:

Mina, or country-choose, and choose but one."

"I visit thee from love's flower-scatter'd shore;

Three days my arrow Lada has possess'd

To sharpen—tell me, I implore—

Dost love thy country or thy Mina best?"

The midnight struck—I left the awful spot:

My eye still fix'd upon the misty shade—

The sword—the arrow—Mina—country—what

But doubt and silence—on my breast I laid

My hand—tore out and broke in twain my heart—

My country!—Mina!—each shall have a part.