Meanwhile her red-cross knight was lying prone,

Sore wounded, life nigh spent,

On Acre's plains.

He'd swooned and woke to find him 'neath, a tent.

With balm a maiden soothed his throbbing veins.

 Low whispers could he often hear without. Fresh unctions were applied; His wounds Soon healed. Whene'er he groaned swift flew she to his side: At other times the maiden lay concealed. At last she brought the news of Saladin's great rout. 

Low whispers could he often hear without.

Fresh unctions were applied;

His wounds Soon healed.

Whene'er he groaned swift flew she to his side:

At other times the maiden lay concealed.

 

 

 The Saracen Maid's Secret. 

 What secret spring had moved this maiden's heart To save her nation's fee, At risk of life? Far rather had he died than live to know That precious secret was to be his wife. Too well she knew that now 'twas death from him to part! 

What secret spring had moved this maiden's heart

To save her nation's fee,

At risk of life?

Far rather had he died than live to know

That precious secret was to be his wife.

 Prev. P 12/54 next