Where the blue waves kiss the land,
Where the pearls gleam on the strand,
Where the vales of Britain lie
Neath the ever-changing sky,
Lived a British maiden free—
Princess, priestess, both was she,
When a Roman with his art
Wooed and stole this maiden's heart.
Fled she with him o'er the seas,
Past the sea-girt Cyclades,
On to Sidon's murmuring shore,
But she smiled not evermore.
For the Roman went his way,
And was often heard to say
How he left beyond the seas
The bride of the Saronides.
Grew she sadder day by day,
Till the Reaper came that way;
Then she raised her eyes and smiled,
Died, and left behind a child.'
As the last notes died away, the singer saw a great change come over the face of the Greek.
His head rested on his right hand, and with the other he convulsively clutched a little silver shrine which hung from his neck. He was as pale as death; he moved not, spoke not, until the minstrel said:
'What ails thee, noble lord?'
Chios braced himself together, and replied:
'I was deeply touched with thy tender tale. My soul flew out to Sidon. Tell me, is this story true?'