“With all his wit, he little deems that, spurned, betrayed, bereft,
Thy father hath in his despair one fearful refuge left,
He little deems that in this hand I clutch what still can save
Thy gentle youth from taunts and blows, the portion of the slave;
Yea, and from nameless evil that passeth taunt and blow,—
Foul outrage which thou knowest not, which thou shalt never know.
Then clasp me round the neck once more, and give me one more kiss,
And now, mine own dear little girl, there is no way but this.’
With that he lifted high the steel and smote her in the side,
And in her blood she sank to earth, and with one sob she died.”