Songs of the Mexican Seas Part 14

"Ay, twenty years," she sadly sighed: "I promised mother every year That I would pray for father here, As she had prayed, the night she died:

"To pray as she prayed, fervidly; As she had promised she would pray The sad night of her marriage day, For him, wherever he might be."

Then she was still; then sudden she Let fall her eyes, and so outspake As if her very heart would break, Her proud lips trembling piteously:

"And whether he come soon or late To kneel beside this nameless grave, May G.o.d forgive my father's hate As I forgive, as she forgave!"

He saw the stone; he understood With that quick knowledge that will come Most quick when men are made most dumb With terror that stops still the blood.

And then a blindness slowly fell On soul and body; but his hands Held tight his bags, two iron bands, As if to bear them into h.e.l.l.

He sank upon the nameless stone With oh such sad, such piteous moan As never man might seek to know From man's most unforgiving foe.

He sighed at last, so long, so deep, As one heart breaking in one's sleep,-- One long, last, weary, willing sigh, As if it were a grace to die.

And then his hands, like loosened bands, Hung down, hung down on either side; His hands hung down and opened wide: He rested in the orange lands.

University Press: John Wilson & Son, Cambridge.