Some dim remembrance of old dreams,

That in their brown depths flickered

With strange, elusive light,

Like stars that tremble in still forest-pools.

One spake--

I scarce knew whom, nor cared--

And bade me choose,

Before the throne,

Between a life of slavery,

Or merciful, swift death--

Death, that but a moment since,

I would have dragged, exulting, on me--

And with my eyes still set on the Queen's face,

I answered:

"I will serve":

And scarcely heeded that my wrists were loosed.

And, huddled in a stifling hut,

That night, among my fellows,

I could not sleep at all:

But gazed, wild-eyed, till dawn upon that face,

 Prev. P 44/59 next