“A mother’s heart of love is deep—give it your child[153] instead.”
She only smiled a bitter smile—“Frenchmen, I do not shrink—
As pledge of my fidelity, behold[154] the infant drink!”
He fixed on hers his broad black eye, scanning her inmost soul;
But her chill fingers trembled not as she returned the bowl.
And we with lightsome hardihood, dismissing idle care,
Sat down[155] to eat and drink and laugh over our dainty fare.
The laugh was loud around the board, the jesting wild and light;
But I was fevered with the march, and drank no wine that night;
I just had filled a single cup, when through my very brain[156]