 | The Baroness of New York |  |
99
XV.
A red hand led from reedy sedge
That girt a dark, still island's edge—
A red hand, red from blood, from flame,
Led bowed Adora where she came.
She drew her hurried to the shore,
And bleeding still, low reaching o'er,
She, dying, led to wood so deep
That only night and shadows keep
Companionship for evermore.
That girt a dark, still island's edge—
A red hand, red from blood, from flame,
Led bowed Adora where she came.
She drew her hurried to the shore,
And bleeding still, low reaching o'er,
She, dying, led to wood so deep
That only night and shadows keep
Companionship for evermore.
The red flames from the further shore
Shot brightly shining where they stood,
Across the lurid, flowing flood,
And struck a gleaming, golden store
Of heaped-up treasures that were known
To this poor, bleeding wretch alone.
“Your father's gold!” the wild hag cried;
Her high hand fell—and so she died.
Shot brightly shining where they stood,
Across the lurid, flowing flood,
And struck a gleaming, golden store
Of heaped-up treasures that were known
To this poor, bleeding wretch alone.
“Your father's gold!” the wild hag cried;
Her high hand fell—and so she died.
Transfixed Adora stood as stone.
She now was lone as God, as lone
As Eve, ere yet the iron hand
Of man had stretched forth in command.
And she was iron now, or stone,
Or steel, or brass, or sodden lead,
Or anything that you might name
That heeds not love, nor pride or shame,
Or hope of love, or honor dead.
She now was lone as God, as lone
As Eve, ere yet the iron hand
Of man had stretched forth in command.
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Or steel, or brass, or sodden lead,
Or anything that you might name
That heeds not love, nor pride or shame,
Or hope of love, or honor dead.
She laughed a little. Hard and cold
The sounds fell as a funeral knell.
She saw the woman where she fell,
She saw the great, high heap of gold
Gleam on her like a rising sun.
She spurned it with her foot as one
Disdaining wealth. This beggar child
Curled up her lip and laughed aloud,
Laughed like a maniac, sharp and wild;
Then snapped her fingers in the air,
Threw back her black, abundant hair,
That mantled like a midnight cloud,
And made resolve—that moment made
Resolve of action. She betrayed
No tremor, not a touch of fear.
No pulse of terror, or hot tear.
The sounds fell as a funeral knell.
She saw the woman where she fell,
She saw the great, high heap of gold
Gleam on her like a rising sun.
She spurned it with her foot as one
Disdaining wealth. This beggar child
Curled up her lip and laughed aloud,
Laughed like a maniac, sharp and wild;
Then snapped her fingers in the air,
Threw back her black, abundant hair,
That mantled like a midnight cloud,
And made resolve—that moment made
Resolve of action. She betrayed
No tremor, not a touch of fear.
No pulse of terror, or hot tear.
She stooped, and in her arms she bore
The stark dead woman to the shore.
She laid her decent in her bark
Below the bent boughs burned and dark,
And plucked white lilies of the sea
And tiger lilies of the land.
Then with a daughter's sympathy,
And with a sister's tender hand
She hid her face in leaves, and gave,
In Indian custom of the land,
Sad sepulture upon the wave.
The stark dead woman to the shore.
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Below the bent boughs burned and dark,
And plucked white lilies of the sea
And tiger lilies of the land.
Then with a daughter's sympathy,
And with a sister's tender hand
She hid her face in leaves, and gave,
In Indian custom of the land,
Sad sepulture upon the wave.
She, down the strong, reversing tide,
Strewed lilies for the ocean wide,
And left her with her slim canoe.
Then as the loosened boat withdrew,
She cried aloud,
“Now shall I be
A Baroness indeed! For me
The peopled cities now, the land
Of action, conquest and command.
And who that lives shall question me,
Save he that sails on yonder sea?”
Strewed lilies for the ocean wide,
And left her with her slim canoe.
Then as the loosened boat withdrew,
She cried aloud,
“Now shall I be
A Baroness indeed! For me
The peopled cities now, the land
Of action, conquest and command.
And who that lives shall question me,
Save he that sails on yonder sea?”
| The Baroness of New York | |