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Than steel, I'd beat it down—I'd pluck it up;
And thee, O my beloved, to our valley,
There will I lead thee, raise thee with my hand.
Or go we further still? Litwa has deserts;
There lie deep shades in woods of Bialowiez,
Where never rings the clang of foreign swords,
Nor sounds the haughty victor's signal-word—
No, nor the groanings of our vanquished brothers.
There, in the midst of silent, pastoral joy,
And in thine arms, and on thy bosom, let me
Forget that there are nations in the world;
Or any worlds; we for ourselves will live—
Return, oh! speak, consent!"
Aldona spoke not;
And Konrad, silent, waited yet reply:
Meanwhile the blood-red dawn shone forth in
heaven.

"O God! Aldona, morning is before us,
And men will wake : the guard arrest us here.
Aldona!"—called he, trembling with despair.
No voice was his; beseeching with his eyes,
He lifted to the tower his claspèd hands.
Fell on his knees, and pity to entreat.
Embraced and kissed the walls of that cold tower.