"She is for you! Take her! I promised it! Take her, my bullies!"--shouting so, he flung Her in their midst. Then, on her poor hands (split, And beaten by his dagger when she clung Resisting him) and knees, she crept a bit Nearer his feet and begged for death. No tongue Can tell the way he turned from her and cursed, Then bade his men draw lots for which were first. V I saw it all from that low parapet, Where, bullet-wounded in the hip and head, I lay face-upward in the whispering wet, Exhausted 'mid the dead and left for dead. We had held out two days without a let Against these bandits. You could trace with red From room to room how we resisted hard Since the great door crashed in to their petard. VI The rain revived me, and I leaned with pain And saw her lying there, pale, soiled and splashed And miserable; on her cheek a stain, A dull red bruise, made when his mad hand dashed And struck her to the stones; the wretched rain Dripped from her dark hair; and her hands were gashed.-- Oh, for a musket or a petronel With which to send his devil's soul to hell! VII But helpless there I lay, no weapon near, Only the useless sword I could not reach His traitor's heart with, while I chafed to hear The laugh, the insult and the villain speech Of him to her.--Oh, God! could I but clear The height between and, hanging like a leech, My fingers at his throat, tear out his base Vile tongue! yea, tear, and lash it in his face! VIII But, badly wounded, what could I but weep With rage and pity of my helplessness And her misfortune! Could I only creep A little nearer so that she might guess I was not dead; that I my life would keep, Dedicate to revenge!--Oh, the distress Of that last moment when, half-dead, I saw Them mount and bear her swooning through the shaw. IX Long time I lay unconscious. It befell Some woodsmen found me, having heard the sound Of fighting cease that, for two days, made hell Of that wild region; ventured on the ground For plunder: and it had not then gone well With me, I fear, had not their leader found That in some way I would repay his care; So bore me to his hut and nursed me there. X How roughly kind he was! For weeks I hung 'Twixt life and death; health, like a varying, sick And fluttering pendulum, now this way swung, Now that, until at last its querulous tick Beat out life's usual time, and slowly rung The long, loud hours, that exclaimed, "Be quick!-- Arise!--Go forth!--Hear how her black wrongs call!-- Make them the salve to cure thy wounds withal!"-- XI