Page:Records of Woman.pdf/51

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He sprang up like a warrior-youth awaking To clarion-sounds upon the ringing air; He caught her to his breast, while proud tears breaking From his dark eyes, fell o'er her braided hair,— And "Worthy art thou," was his joyous cry, "That man for thee should gird himself to die.

"My bride, my wife, the mother of my child!   Now shall thy name be armour to my heart; And this our land, by chains no more defiled,    Be taught of thee to choose the better part! I go thy spirit on my words shall dwell, Thy gentle voice shall stir the Alps—Farewell!"

And thus they parted, by the quiet lake, In the clear starlight: he, the strength to rouse Of the free hills; she, thoughtful for his sake, To rock her child beneath the whispering boughs Singing its blue, half-curtain'd eyes to sleep, With a low hymn, amidst the stillness deep.