The Beginning of the Story - Page 7 of 25

97   For me all earthly joy is gone;
A burden, yea, this life undone;
Nor long your wait remains: anon
In Heaven you shall clasp your son.

98   Who thus had wept, a while withdrew
In silence brief, his tears to brew.
The Muslim who had listened through –
Pity nigh broke his breast in two.

99   He pressed his heart. Now converse keeping,
When, he bewails, shall these tears creeping,
From pity and regret be leaping,
Like unto his who now is weeping? ^[15]

100   I weep for love, from my side cleaved;
For this, the tears flow unrelieved.
That other is lamenting, grieved –
Of father's bounteous care bereaved.

101   If only these that well up here
Counted regret their fountain clear,
For loving care of father dear,
How blessed my day, how sweet each tear!

102   These biding drops in sorrow brewed,
That keep my face and breast bedewed,
My thoughts of father do extude,
But – wrath it is, not love, reviewed.

103   Father's concern, if such there be,
Lay in which wiles to play on me;
How steal my love, and fervently
To wish me ill, my death to see.

104   What son knows fate like to my own?
Pure pain and tears by father shown;
Of mother's love I've never known,
Too soon she died and left me lone.

105   He pauses here, to list unto
That shackled one who moans anew:
Laura, light of my soul, to you
From sorrow's lap, I bid adieu.

106   May lasting joy be yours, begot
With him you've wed, though plighted not;
And may you never live the lot
Of love, like me, deceived, forgot.

107   Cruel you prove, your constance nil,
Yet does my bosom love you still;
And if may adore until
My bones be tombed, I will! I will!

108   Scarce can the voice itself conclude,
Two panting lions intrude,
Who have him tracked in murderous mood,
But pause where he is clearly viewed.

109   Their fury the victim slows,
So piteous ill the sight he shows;
They raise their heads, to listen close
As the poor youth pours out his woes.

110   What feels he now whom bands detain,
Confronted thus by lions twain,
Whose tooth and claws alike contain
An end of horrifying pain?

111   I ^[16] could not say – mine own tears fell;
And tongue – no single word could tell.
My heart lay weak in pity's spell
For him in suffering doomed to dwell.

112   Who would not feel compassion for
Sight of one bound and anguished sore?
Already pained, and seeing before
His eyes what slaughter is in store?