SAY! dost thou remember when under the vine,
Thy tears fell in streams on the breast of thy maid;
When thy heart burst in joy as I own’d thee for mine?
Alas! for the maiden whose peace is betray’d,
By the tears and the vows of a falsehood like thine!
As the changeable sky—now o’erclouded, now bright,
Is the faith of thy race—their language to-day,
“I will wed thee to-morrow, my love and my light!”
To-morrow—“Let’s wait till the harvest’s away.”
The harvest is ended, the winter is nigh,
And another maid dwells in their hearts and their eye.