Wait not to find thy slippers,
But come with thy naked feet;
We shall have to pass through the dewy grass,
And waters wide and fleet.
FROM EASTERN SOURCES
THE FUGITIVE
A TARTAR SONG
I
"He is gone to the desert land I can see the shining mane Of his horse on the distant plain, As he rides with his Kossak band!
"Come back, rebellious one! Let thy proud heart relent; Come back to my tall, white tent, Come back, my only son!
"Thy hand in freedom shall Cast thy hawks, when morning breaks, On the swans of the Seven Lakes, On the lakes of Karajal.
"I will give thee leave to stray And pasture thy hunting steeds In the long grass and the reeds Of the meadows of Karaday.