Before the Spanish priest we stood
Of San Gregorio's brotherhood —
A shot rang out! — and in her blood
My dark-eyed darling lay.
O God! I carried her beside
The Virgin's altar where she cried,—
Smiling upon me ere she died,—
"Adieu, my love, adieu!"
I knelt before St. Mary's shrine
And held my dead one's hand in mine,
"Vengeance," I cried, "O Lord, be thine,
But I thy minister!"
I kissed her thrice and sealed my vow,—
Her eyes, her sea-cold lips and brow,—
"Farewell, my heart is dying now,
O Marta of Milrone!"
Then swift upon my steed I lept;
My streaming eyes the desert swept;
I saw the accursed where he crept
Against the blood-red sun.
[p. 49]
I galloped straight upon his track,
And never more my eyes looked back;
The world was barred with red and black;
My heart was flaming coal.
Through the delirious twilight dim
And the black night I followed him;
Hills did we cross and rivers swim,—
My fleet foot horse and I.
The morn burst red, a gory wound,
O'er iron hills and savage ground;
And there was never another sound
Save beat of horses' hoofs.
Unto the murderer's ear they said,
"Thou'rt of the dead! Thou'rt of the dead!"
Still on his stallion black he sped
While death spurred on behind.
Fiery dust from the blasted plain
Burnt like lava in every vein;
But I rode on with steady rein
Though the fierce sand-devils spun.