III.
That evil thing, Hasty Passion, leadeth one of the Pilgrims astray.
At noon some palms across the way
Their broad, cool shadow cast,—
A sparkling well gushed forth,—the birds
Sang blithely as they passed.
Each pilgrim to his fellow spake,
And bade him be of cheer,
When from the trees three men came forth,
And eyed them with a sneer.
They followed them with bitter words,
With flouting gibe and laugh,
Till roused to anger one stepped round,
And fiercely raised his staff.
On him the strangers rushed, with each
A weapon in his hand,
And soon the feeble palmer-staff
Was shivered like a wand.
They dashed him wounded on the plain,—
Fast flowed the red blood down;—
O hapless he who ne'er shall see
The marble-templed town!
