Page:The poems of Emma Lazarus volume 1.djvu/126

112 The knight encouraged him to confidence; Then his own gift of minstrelsy revealed, And told bright tales of his first wanderings, When in lords castles and kings palaces Men still made place for him, for in his land The gift was rare and valued at its worth, And brought great victory and sounding fame. Thus, in retracing all his pleasant youth, His suffering passed as though it had not been. Wide-eyed and open-mouthed the boy gave ear, His fair face flushing with the sudden thoughts That went and came, then, as the pilgrim ceased, Drew breath and spake : &quot; And where now is your lyre? &quot; The knight with both hands hid his changed, white face, Crying aloud, &quot; Lost ! lost ! forever lost! &quot; Then, gathering strength, he bared his face again Unto the frightened, wondering boy, and rose With hasty fear. &quot;Ah, child, you bring me back Unwitting to remembrance of my grief, For which I donned eternal garb of woe; And yet I owe you thanks for one sweet hour Of healthy human intercourse and peace. T is not for me to tarry by the way. Farewell ! &quot; The impetuous, remorseful boy, Seeing sharp pain on that kind countenance, Fell at his feet- and cried, &quot; Forgive my words,