The Princess: A Medley: Home they Brought her Warrior Dead

Home they brought her warrior dead:

She nor swoon'd nor utter'd cry:

All her maidens, watching, said,

"She must weep or she will die."

Then they praised him, soft and low,

Call'd him worthy to be loved,

Truest friend and noblest foe;

Yet she neither spoke nor moved.

Stole a maiden from her place,

Lightly to the warrior stepped,

Took the face-cloth from the face;

Yet she neither moved nor wept.



Rose a nurse of ninety years,

Set his child upon her knee--

Like summer tempest came her tears--

"Sweet my child, I live for thee."