Home they brought her warrior dead: She nor swoon'd nor utter'd cry:
All her maidens, watching, said, "She must weep or she will die."Then they praised him, soft and low, Call'd him worthy to be loved,
Truest friend and noblest foe; Yet she neither spoke nor moved.
Stole a maiden from her place, Lightly to the warrior stepped,
Took the face-cloth from the face; Yet she neither moved nor wept.
Rose a nurse of ninety years, Set his child upon her knee—Like summer tempest came her tears— "Sweet my child,
I live for
Form: abab1.
The Princess:
A Medley, published 1847.
The first edition contained only four of the lyrics: \
