_Hans Lorbass_ [_rises, in anguished bitterness_]. Mine must begin anew. How gladly have I ever braved fresh dangers as my darling's slave! That service, too, is past; but now his kingdom calls loudly on my sword for aid. [_Pointing seaward._] Northward there lies a land debauched, crying from out its shame for justice, for a righteous law, for vengeance, for salvation; for a master,--and that shall the man become! _Translated by Helen Tracy Porter_. MARAH OF SHADOWTOWN. The days pass by in Shadowtown Wearily, wearily;-- And Bitter-Sweet Marah of Shadowtown Sighs drearily, drearily. "Mother, tell him to come to me While my hair is gold and beautiful And my lips and eyes are young While the songs that are welling up in my heart May still be sung. "The days go by so wearily Like crooked goblins, eerily, Like silly shadows, fast and still, Wind-driven and drearily. "Like the gray clouds are my eyes gray, mother, Like them, heavy as things grown old Only the clouds' tears are but dream-tears-- Lifeless, cold. "Last night I had the strangest dream,-- It seemed I stood on a barren hill Where the wings of the ragged clouds went by Hurrying and still. "And all of a sudden the moon came out Making a pathway over the down,-- And turned my hair to a gold mist, mother, To light the way to Shadowtown. "But when I did not see him coming, And because the clouds grew dark and gray I walked through the shadows down the hillside To help him better to find the way. "And in some wise I came to a forest When all around was so strange and dim,-- That I thought, 'If I should be lost in the darkness, How could my hair be light for him?' "But groping, I found I was on a pathway Where low soft branches swept my face,-- When suddenly, close beside, and before me I knew dim forms kept even pace. "They were so cowering, shivering, white That I felt some ill thing came behind And I heard a moan on the wind go by 'Ah, but the end of the path to find!' "Then I looked behind, and saw that near Like a wan marsh-fog, came a cloud Hurrying on,--and I knew it wrapped A dead love--as a shroud. "And guiltily the figures went, Like coward things in a guilty race And not one dared to look behind For fear he knew that dead love's face. "Then suddenly at my side I knew He I loved went;--but, for my hair, Shadowed and blown about my face, He knew me not beside him there. "And he, too, cowered with shaking hands Over his eyes, for fear to meet Haunting and still, my pallid face In that strange mist of winding-sheet.