When the beeches are gold and the sumachs glow,
From the mountain top I shall watch for thee.”
The sailors are calling; the broad sails flap;
From his neck Dirck loosens his great gold chain,
Flings[271] the gleaming links in Nekama’s lap,
Then springs[272] to the shallop’s stern again.
The stout ash bends to the rowers’ will,
Till the small boat reaches the vessel’s side,
Then he turns to Nekama waiting still,
Sad, but calm in her savage pride.