C.
THE DIVORCED,[1]
A TRANSLATION FROM THE MOLDAVIAN.
“Ah! what a fatal gift from Heaven is a too sensitive heart!”—Rousseau.
What is that yonder shimmering so?
Can it be swans? Can it be snow?
If it were swans they would move, I trow,
If it were snow it had melted ere now.
No: it is Ibrahim Aga’s tent—
There lies the warrior, wounded and spent.
Mother and sisters tend him there