 | The works of Lord Byron
|  |
|
XXII.
“'Tis he!” the stranger cried, and those that heard
Re-echoed fast and far the whispered word.
“'Tis he!”—“'Tis who?” they question far and near,
Till louder accents rung on Lara's ear;
So widely spread, few bosoms well could brook
The general marvel, or that single look:
But Lara stirred not, changed not, the surprise
That sprung at first to his arrested eyes
Seemed now subsided—neither sunk nor raised
Glanced his eye round, though still the stranger gazed;
And drawing nigh, exclaimed, with haughty sneer,
“'Tis he!—how came he thence?—what doth he here?”
| The works of Lord Byron
| |
|
