The Beginning of the Story - Page 5 of 25

65   The gravest grief upon me thrust
Is Laura's falsehood to my trust,
Wasting my life, whereat it must
End as the wretched end: in dust.

66   O Adolph, had you passed decree
To heap me every cruelty,
I could have borne such tyranny
Were Laura's heart but left to me!

67   Hereat he sighed – O sound appealing!
Its echoes through the forest reeling;
And sighing so, was reft of feeling,
His face the while sad tears revealing.

68   Against the tree, his head downcast,
Neck forced back by strappings fast,
Face drained more white than sighted last,
He stood as one whose life had passed. ^[11]

69   Right then, into the forest strolled
A warrior of patrician mold,
Turbaned and lustrous to behold,
His garb of Persian sources told.

70   He paused awhile, his eyes in quest,
It seemed, of place whereon to rest;
Shortly, himself he did divest
Of shield and lance; then palms he pressed.

71   And raised his face and fixed his eyes
On tree-tops shutting out the skies.
Still, still he stood there, statue-wise
And mute but for his ceaseless sighs.

72   Such stand a strain becoming, he
Sat down beneath a nearby tree,
Sighing: O Fate! and presently,
Tears from his eyes shot copiously.

73   Upon his left hand, head was pressed,
While on his right did forehead rest;
As Mem'ry seemingly addressed
Some dear thought never quite suppressed.

74   Impassive he, while moments fled;
Nor slowed at all the tears he shed;
And sighing still, this plaint he said:
O Flerida! All joy is dead!

75   From time to time rang far and high
Throughout the woods, his plaintive sigh,
Matching the doleful hummings by
Nocturnal birds there nesting nigh.

76   But sudden sprang he to his feet,
Swept and lance from up his seat,
Face flashing Furies' rage and heat,
It shall not be! Was stamped there neat.

77   Had Flerida been stolen, won
By man of whom I were not son,
There is no telling then: anon,
Lance dealt a thousand deaths and one! ^[12]

78   From lofty heights would Mars descend;
From sheerest depths, the Fates ascend;
Their rage – O merged in such a blend! –
Would urge this arm to vengeful end

79   The traitor – off his claws, I'd free
The dear twin to his soul of me;
Father aside, O might he see
How all-unsparing spear could be!

80   O Love! Thou all-omnipotent one,
Who sporteth ev'n with sire and son;
Once sworn to thee, a heart then on
Defies all else: thy will be done.