Page:Poems, Alan Seeger, 1916.djvu/176

 Nor yet so tightly drawn the cruel chains

Clasped the slim ankles and the wounded hands,

But with soft, cringing attitudes in vain

She strove to shield her from that ardent glance.

So, clinging to the walls of some old manse,

The rose-vine strives to shield her tender flowers,

When the rude wind, as autumn weeks advance,

Beats on the walls and whirls about the towers

And spills at every blast her pride in piteous showers.

And first for choking sobs she might not speak,

And then, "Alas!" she cried, "ah, woe is me!"

And more had said in accents faint and weak,

Pleading for succor and sweet liberty.

But hark! across the wide ways of the sea

Rose of a sudden such a fierce affray

That any but the brave had turned to flee.

Ruggiero, turning, looked. To his dismay,

Lo, where the monster came to claim his quivering prey! 126