Detdiar sidj as efterluket wurden.
243
On the further bank a maiden stood, at that sweet hour,
Pouring o'er the bleaching linen fast the needful shower.
Humbly born this duty proved her, yet if queen might wear
On her brow such regal beauty, crown were never wanting
there.
Now upon the turf she resteth, by the night-wind fanned,
Holding still the dripping pitcher with a careless hand, —
More like some immortal keeper of a fountain head,
Such as antique sculptures show us, than a simple mortal
maid.
Yet the fires of shifting passion burn in her dark eye,
And her lip now smiles, now trembles, all too humanly ;
Toward the camp her face still turneth through that change-
ful cheer,
And the anxious glance she sendeth now is longing, now is
fear.
