XIII

5 0 00

XIII

They say, full six months after this,

While yet the summer leaves were green,

She to the mountaintop would go,

And there was often seen.

’Tis said, a child was in her womb,

As now to any eye was plain;

She was with child, and she was mad;

Yet often she was sober sad

From her exceeding pain.

Oh me! ten thousand times I’d rather

That he had died, that cruel father!