"
When I finished speaking she gently withdrew her hands from mine and
turned away amongst the trees, doubtless to fly from me, trembling at
my words, like a frightened young fawn from the hunter.
So for a moment I thought. But no, there lay the lilies gathered for
a religious purpose at my feet, and there was nothing reproachful in
the shy, dark eyes when they glanced back for a moment at me; for, in
spite of those warning words, she had only gone to find more of those
perilous crimson flowers to give me.
Not then, while I waited for her return with palpitating heart, but
afterwards in calmer moments, and when Monica had become a pretty
picture in the past, did I compose the following lines. I am not so
vain as to believe that they possess any great poetical merit, and
introduce them principally to let the reader know how to pronounce the
pretty name of that Oriental river, which it still keeps in remembrance
of a vanished race.
Standing silent, pale her face was,
Pale and sweet to see:
'Neath the willows waiting for me,
Willow-like was she,
Smiling, blushing, trembling, bashful
Maid of Yi.
Willow-like she trembled, yet she
Never fled from me;
But her dove-like eyes were downcast,
On the grass to see
White feet standing: white thy feet were,
Maid of Yi.
Stalks of lilies in her hands were:
Crimson lilies three,
Placed I in her braids of black hair--
They were bright to see!
Lift thy dark eyes, for I love thee,
Maid of Yi!
CHAPTER XV
In the evening Alday returned with a couple of his friends, and, as
soon as an opportunity offered, I took him aside and begged him to let
me have a horse to continue my journey to Montevideo.
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