[27] Rosa Sandor was less a highwayman than a cattle-lifter, and pursued his vocation in the neighbourhood of Szegedin. "He was never in prison," says Schlesinger, "but repented his misdemeanours of his own free will, and wrote to the magistrates stating that he would leave their cattle alone, if they would pardon him for the past and allow him to pursue the Austrians." The Hungarian Government granted his request, and he did good service, especially against Jellachich and the Serbs; and also repeatedly entered Pesth and Komorn with despatches, when those places were closely invested by the Austrians.--See Schlesinger, i. 226-8, for other particulars of this Hungarian Robin Hood, who was at the head of a band of three hundred men, and was further remarkable by his abstinence from bloodshed. [28] "Ha! I too was yonder born, where brightly beams the star." THE MESSAGE OF SETH. AN ORIENTAL TRADITION. BY DELTA. I. Prostrate upon his couch of yellow leaves, Slow-breathing lay the Father of Mankind; And as the rising sun through cloudland weaves Its gold, the glowing past returned to mind, Days of delight for ever left behind, In purity's own robes when garmented, Under perennial branches intertwined-- Where fruits and flowers hung temptingly o'erhead, Eden's blue streams he traced, by bliss ecstatic led. II. Before him still, in the far distance seen, Arose its rampart groves impassable; Stem behind giant stem, a barrier screen, Whence even at noonday midnight shadows fell; Vainly his steps had sought to bid farewell To scenes so tenderly beloved, although Living in sight of Heaven made Earth a Hell; For fitful lightnings, on the turf below, Spake of the guardian sword aye flickering to and fro-- III. The fiery sword that, high above the trees, Flashed awful threatenings from the angel's hand, Who kept the gates and guarded:--nigh to these, A hopeless exile, Adam loved to stand Wistful, or roamed, to catch a breeze that fanned The ambrosial blooms, and wafted perfume thence, As 'twere sweet tidings from a distant land No more to be beheld; for Penitence, However deep it be, brings back not Innocence. IV. Thus had it been through weary years, wherein The primal curse, working its deadly way, Had reft his vigour, bade his cheek grow thin, Furrowed his brow, and bleached his locks to grey: A stricken man, now Adam prostrate lay With sunken eye, and palpitating breath, Waning like sunlight from the west away; While tearfully, beside that bed of death, Propping his father's head, in tenderness hung Seth. V.