Tears came at last. The brutal Haynau smiled,
But all too soon. Weeping, the mother said:
"Be not thy country's, traitor, oh! my child!
Too old am I the loss of life to dread."
Then spake the sister: "Brother mine, be brave!
Life hath no charms, if with dishonor bought;
Think not of us, our bleeding country save—
Life is so short at best, death matters naught."
The hero made no answer, but he drove
His nails into his palms, and choked for breath;
His captor bade the soldiery remove
The noble women—and they went to death.
"He hath a sweetheart," Haynau said again:
"Go, bring her hither;" and they brought her there,
Weeping with fear, and wailing low with pain,
Amid the golden ringlets of her hair.
Then from the earth she sprang, frenzied with fear,
Into her lover's arms, and kissed his cheek,
And strok'd his hair, and called him "love" and "dear,"
And prayed him for her sake to yield and speak.
He thrust her from him, clasped her yielding form
In his lithe arms again, and then once more
Repulsed her gently, and the deadly storm
That raged within him smote him to the floor.
Groping, he rose and spoke. None knew his voice:
It sounded as though coming from a tomb.
"Oh! darling, it must be—I have no choice—
Thou would'st not have me seal my country's doom?"
Haynau made sign. "Away with her," he cried.
They seized their prey, but life to her was sweet,
And, bounding from the soldiers at her side,
Screaming she crouched, and clasped her lover's feet.
"Oh! for the love you bear me, save my life!
Tell what he asks, and we will fly this place
Into some unknown land, where all this strife
Shall be forgotten in love's sweet embrace."
He made no answer save by bending low,
And kissing her damp brow. They raised their prize,
And bore her to the door, as pale as snow,
With all her soul outwelling from her eyes.