THE WREATH.
221
My father's blood, my father's creed,
Now help me in my hour of need!"
Still knelt he at the maiden's feet,
Still sought he those dear eyes to meet.
"Cruel, and is there nothing due
To love so fervid and so true?"
As with conflicting thought oppress'd,
She droop'd her head upon his breast;
Watch'd he the tears on her pale face,
When started she from that embrace.
"I know the weakness of my heart:
Mirza, in vain, for we must part.
Farewell, and henceforth I will be
Vow'd to my God and prayers for thee."
