Page:Poems Baldwin.djvu/143

Like Comala may she in her sorrow be,
(That is, if any maid can mourn for thee.)
Why hast thou told me that my hero fell?
How dare such words on coward lips ere dwell?
I might have hoped a little while to see
My only loved one come again to me?
I might have thought I saw him on the hill;
Or heard his sounding horn when all was still?
Oh, that I were on Crona's blood-stain'd shore;
O'er him, my chief, my soul's deep grief to pour

The chief's cold eye rests on the maiden's face,
And pity gives not one kind human trace
To his dark brow; he addeth to her woe:
(Thus o'er the wreck relentless waters flow:)
'He is not near where Crona's waters roar;
His tomb is rais'd on Ardven's silent shore,—
Heroes have rais'd it. Look on them, oh, thou moon.
Forth from dark clouds we shall behold thee soon;
Bright be thy beam upon his silent breast,
Comala's eye shall on his armour rest.'

'Oh stay!' (her trembling tongue essays to call,)
Let not the earth on my beloved fall
Until I've seen him! He left me at the chase;
I knew not then that I should see his face
No more.—He said he would return with night;
I knew not that my love went forth to fight.