The sympathetic pair agreed,
To form a grave without a spade;
Bury their fawn beneath a tree,
And chaunt a requiem to his shade.
Fortunio had a rustic knife,
With this their feeling task they plann'd,
And often in a friendly strife,
They claim'd it from each other's hand.
But ere their tedious toil advanc'd,
Towards its kind and tender end,
Cornelia, as her quick eye glanc'd,
Saw, what escap'd her toiling friend.
It was a sight that well might shake,
A little heart of stouter mould;
A sight, that made Cornelia quake,
And all her quivering fibres cold!
A furious Stag advancing sprung,
Eager along the echoing wood,
As if vindictive for his young,
To reach the spot, where now they stood.
Cornelia scarce could stand, for she
Began her guardian to entreat;
Seizing his busy arm, to flee
Far from the fawn before her feet.
The youth her painful terror saw,
And with a manly sterness said,
In a firm voice, inspiring awe,
"Cornelia I must be obeyed."
"True love is brave, whate'er may chance--
Behind this tree's protecting bole
Stand thou--nor fear the Stag's advance,
But trust to thy Fortunio's soul!"
The faithful maid, in double dread,
Fear'd to offend him more than death;
And now, as near the fierce foe sped,
Behind the tree, she pants for breath.
Pages:
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27