Should Hagar weep? May slighted woman turn, And as a vine the oak hath shaken off, Bend lightly to her tendencies again? Oh no! by all her loveliness, by all That makes life poetry and beauty, no! Make her a slave; steal from her rosy cheek By needless jealousies; let the last star Leave her a watcher by your couch of pain; Wrong her by petulance, suspicion, all That makes her cup a bitterness--yet give One evidence of love, and earth has not An emblem of devotedness like hers. But oh! estrange her once, it boots not how, By wrong or silence, any thing that tells A change has come upon your tenderness-- And there is not a high thing out of heaven Her pride o’ermastereth not. She went her way with a strong step and slow; Her pressed lip arched, and her clear eye undimmed, As it had been a diamond, and her form Borne proudly up, as if her heart breathed through. Her child kept on in silence, though she pressed His hand till it was pained; for he had caught, As I have said, her spirit, and the seed Of a stern nation had been breathed upon. The morning past, and Asia’s sun rode up In the clear heaven, and every beam was heat. The cattle of the hills were in the shade, And the bright plumage of the Orient lay On beating bosoms in her spicy trees. It was an hour of rest; but Hagar found No shelter in the wilderness, and on She kept her weary way, until the boy Hung down his head, and opened his parched lips For water; but she could not give it him. She laid him down beneath the sultry sky; For it was better than the close, hot breath Of the thick pines, and tried to comfort him; But he was sore athirst, and his blue eyes Were dim and bloodshot, and he could not know Why God denied him water in the wild. She sat a little longer, and he grew Ghastly and faint, as if he would have died. It was too much for her. She lifted him And bore him farther on, and laid his head Beneath the shadow of a desert shrub; And shrouding up her face she went away, And sat to watch, where he could see her not, Till he should die--and watching him she mourned:-- ‘God stay thee in thine agony, my boy! I cannot see thee die; I cannot brook Upon thy brow to look, And see death settle on my cradle joy. How have I drunk the light of thy blue eye! And could I see thee die? ‘I did not dream of this when thou wast straying, Like an unbound gazelle, among the flowers; Or wearing rosy hours, By the rich gush of water-sources playing, Then sinking weary to thy smiling sleep, So beautiful and deep.