Page:The poems of Emma Lazarus volume 1.djvu/138

124 The knight craved drink and bread, and with respect For pilgrim weeds, the Roman herdsman stirred His lazy length, and shared with him his meal. Refreshed and calm, Sir Tannhauser passed forth, Yearning with morbid fancy once again To see the kind face of the minstrel boy He met beside the well. At set of sun He reached the place ; the reaping-folk were gone, The day s toil over, yet he took his seat. A milking-girl with laden buckets full, Came slowly from the pasture, paused and drank. From a near cottage ran a ragged boy, And rilled his wooden pail, and to his home Returned across the fields. A herdsman came, And drank and gave his dog to drink, and passed, Greeting the holy man who sat there still, Awaiting. But his feeble pulse beat high When he descried at last a youthful form, Crossing the field, a pitcher on his head, Advancing towards the well. Yea, this was he, The same grave eyes, and open, girlish face. But he saw not, amidst the landscape brown, The knight s brown figure, who, to win his ear, Asked the lad s name. &quot; My name is Salvator, To serve you, sir,&quot; he carelessly replied, With eyes and hands intent upon his jar,