Page:The Vow of the Peacock.pdf/166

Rh

And there I heard a voice of wo, Of weeping, and despair.

I saw a youthful warrior stand In his first light of fame,— His native city filled the air With her deliverer's name.

I saw him hurry from the crowd, And fling his laurel crown, In weariness, in hopelessness, In utter misery, down.

And what the sorrow, then I asked, Can thus the warrior move To scorn his meed of victory? They told me it was Love.