And he returned—the lover,
Haggard of brow and spent;
He found fair Sutna standing
Before her master's tent.
"Not mine, nor Akbar's, Sutna!"
He cried and closely pressed,
And drove his craven dagger
Straight to the maiden's breast.
Oh, weep, oh, weep, for Sutna,
So young, so dear, so fair,