Watching so long, so piteously,
That e'en the jailor—man of guilt,
Of rugged heart—was moved to cry,
"Poor wretch, there enter if thou wilt."
And who than Nina more content
When she had gained that dreary cell
Where lay in helpless dreariment
The master loved so long and well?
And when into his arms she leapt
In her old fond, familiar way,
And close into his bosom crept,
And licked his face—a feeble ray
Of something—not yet comfort—stole
Upon his heart's stern misery,
And his lips moved, "Poor loving fool!
Then all have not abandoned me."
The hour by grudging kindness spared
Expired too soon—the friends must part—
And Nina from the prison gazed,
With lingering pace and heavy heart.
Shelter, and rest, and food she found
With one who, for the master's sake,
Though grim suspicion stalked around,
Dared his old servant home to take.
Beneath that friendly roof, each night
She stayed, but still returning day—
Ay, the first beam of dawning light
Beheld her on her anxious way.
Towards the prison, there to await
The hour when through that dismal door
The keeper, half compassionate,
Should bid her enter as before.
And well she seemed to comprehend
The time appointed for her stay,
The little hour that with her friend
She tarried there was all her day.
At last the captive's summons came;
They led him forth his doom to hear;
No tremor shook his thrice-nerved frame
Whose heart was dead to hope and fear.