She fawned upon him, face and breast; She said: "It hangs 'twixt worst and best.

And yet, O love, if thou be true, One thing alone thou hast to do."

Sweetly he kissed her, cheek and chin: "What work thou biddest will I win."

"O love, my love, I needs must sleep; Wilt thou my slumbering body keep,

And, toiling sorely, still bear on The love thou seemest to have won?"

"O easy toil," he said, "to bless Mine arms with all thy loveliness."

She smiled; "Yea, easy it may seem, But harder is it than ye deem.

For hearken! Whatso thou mayst see, Piteous as it may seem to thee,

Heed not nor hearken! bear me forth, As though nought else were aught of worth.

For all earth's wealth that may be found Lay me not sleeping on the ground,

To help, to hinder, or to save!

Or there for me thou diggest a grave."

He took her body on his arm, Her slumbering head lay on his barm.

Then glad he bore her on the way, And the wood grew lighter with the day.

All still it was, till suddenly He heard a bitter wail near by.

Yet on he went until he heard The cry become a shapen word:

"Help me, O help, thou pa.s.ser by!

Turn from the path, let me not die!

I am a woman; bound and left To perish; of all help bereft."

Then died the voice out in a moan; He looked upon his love, his own,

And minding all she spake to him Strode onward through the wild-wood dim.

But lighter grew the woodland green Till clear the shapes of things were seen.

And therewith wild halloos he heard, And shrieks, and cries of one afeard.

Nigher it grew and yet more nigh Till burst from out a brake near by

A woman bare of breast and limb, Who turned a piteous face to him

E'en as she ran: for hard at heel Followed a man with brandished steel,

And yelling mouth. Then the Swain stood One moment in the glimmering wood

Trembling, ashamed: Yet now grown wise Deemed all a snare for ears and eyes.

So onward swiftlier still he strode And cast all thought on his fair load.

And yet in but a little s.p.a.ce Back came the yelling shrieking chase,

And well-nigh gripped now by the man, Straight unto him the woman ran;

And underneath the gleaming steel E'en at his very feet did kneel.

She looked up; sobs were all her speech, Yet sorely did her face beseech.

While o'er her head the chaser stared, Shaking aloft the edges bared.

Doubted the Swain, and a while did stand As she took his coat-lap in her hand.

Upon his hand he felt her breath Hot with the dread of present death.

Sleek was her arm on his scarlet coat, The sobbing pa.s.sion rose in his throat.

But e'en therewith he looked aside And saw the face of the sleeping bride.

Then he tore his coat from the woman's hand, And never a moment there did stand.

But swiftly thence away he strode Along the dusky forest road.

And there rose behind him laughter shrill, And then was the windless wood all still,

He looked around o'er all the place, But saw no image of the chase.

And as he looked the night-mirk now O'er all the tangled wood 'gan flow.

Then stirred the sweetling that he bore, And she slid adown from his arms once more.

Nought might he see her well-loved face; But he felt her lips in the mirky place.

"'Tis night," she said, "and the false day's gone, And we twain in the wild-wood all alone.

Night o'er the earth; so rest we here Until to-morrow's sun is clear.

For overcome is every foe And home to-morrow shall we go."

So 'neath the trees they lay, those twain, And to them the darksome night was gain.

But when the morrow's dawn was grey They woke and kissed whereas they lay.