Low she bendeth o'er him weeping,
Heeds not stealthy footsteps creeping,
Sees not jealous eye-balls glare—
"Now, slave, steady,—Fool, thou tremblest
Vengeance if thy heart dissemblest—
Kill her as she standeth there."
"Oh, my Lord and master, hear me—
Patience yet, or much I fear me
I shall never aim aright.
See, the bitter night wind's blowing
Numbs my hand, and brings these flowing
Icy tears to dim my sight.
"Silence! thou accurséd Russian.
Hold—I'll guide the pistol's motion;
See'st thou not her gleaming brow?
So, steady—straight before thee—higher—
When I gave the signal, fire—
Darker doom awaits him—Now!"
A shot, a groan, and all is over;
Still she standeth by her lover—
'Tis the Waiwode falleth dead!
Was ever known such sad disaster?
The bungling slave hath shot his master
Straight and steady through the head.
THE COMPARISON
FROM THE PORTUGUESE.