Page:Konradwallenrod00mickgoog.djvu/68

48 And when unto the castle we returned, He dried my tears to waken no suspicion: He dried my tears, but kindled in me vengeance Against the Germans. I remember well How, when we came again into the castle, I sharpened secretly a knife, with what Delight of vengeance cut I Winrych's carpets, Or broke his mirrors, on his shining shield Flung sand, or spit upon it. Later on. When grown near manhood, from Klajpedo's port I sailed with the old man to view the shores Of Litwa. There I plucked my country's flowers; Their magic fragrance woke within my soul Some ancient, dark remembrance. With the fragrance Intoxicated, seemed me that a child Once more I grew, and in my parents' garden, Played with my little brothers. The old man Assisted memory with his words, more lovely Than herbs and flowers,—painted the happy past. How sweet in native land 'mid friends and kin To pass one's youth, how many Litwin children Knew not such bliss, in the Order's fetters weeping. I heard this on the plains, but on the beach. Where the white billows break with roaring breasts,