CANTO IX.
THE MUSTER.
ALL sorrowfully droop the lotus-trees;
And heart-sick to their hives withdraw the bees,
Forgetful of the heath with savory sweet,
And with milk-thistle. Water-lilies greet
King-fishers blue that to the vivary hie,
And "Have you seen Mirèio?" is their cry.
While Ramoun and his wife by the fireside
Are sitting, lost in grief and swollen-eyed,
And at their hearts the bitterness of death.
"Doubtless," they said, "her reason wandereth.
Oh, what a mad and wretched maid it is!
Oh, what a heavy, cruel downfall this!
"Oh, dire disgrace! Our beauty and our hope
So with the last of trampers to elope!
Fled with a gypsy! And who shall discover
The secret hole of this kidnapping lover,
Where be the shameless one concealed hath?"
And, as they spake, they knit their brows in wrath.
