crowd within,
A wretched and bereaved woman rushed,
And held my bridle, fearless of the swords
That flashed above her head. I heard her cries-- 390
Protect me!--he is dead!--my child, my child!
Brave soldier, for the love of God! I looked 392
A moment, there was famine in her face,
Wasted, yet beautiful. Pitying, I spoke:
Follow; and through the clouds of smoke we passed
To the green olive trees, and then she sank
Upon the ground, and, pale and still as death,
Lay long--the winds just stirring her dark hair:
I brought her water from the spring that wells,
Soft murmuring, from the brook of Siloa: 400
She drank, and feebly opened her dark eyes,
Which seemed more large, for all her flesh was shrunk;
Then she looked up, and faintly spoke again;
My mother--and my husband--and my child--
Are--and she sobbed aloud. By Him, I cried,
Who rules among the gods, I will protect
Thy life with mine! Her tears fell fast and warm
Upon the bloody hand which held the sword;
The other checked my fierce and foaming horse.
Hark! hark! a turret falls! Hark! hark! again-- 410
They shout, ten thousand voices rend the skies,
The Temple, the proud Temple to the ground!
The Temple, the proud temple to the dust!
Her infant she had taken from the ground,
To lay it in her bosom, while the tears
Fell on its folded hands; but when she saw
Still its wan livid lips, and the same glare
Of its dead eyes, she turned away her face,
Half looking down, half raised to heaven, and shed
Her tears no more: one hand as thus she sat, 420
With fingers spread, held fast her infant's arm,
O'er its right shoulder, while its arid lips
She drew, in vain, towards her open breast,
Still fearing to look down: her other hand,
Instinctively, she laid on its cold feet,
As if to cherish them: the gouts of blood 426
Fell heavy from its matted hair, and stained
Her bosom; but she had composed its hands,
Which now, though cold and dead, each other clasped,
Beneath her neck, as living. So she sat,
Nor sighed, nor moved her face, nor shed a tear
I gently took the infant from her arms,
And buried it beside the sacred brook,
And then, with muttered prayer, she turned and wept--
Wept, as bereaved of all she lo