"
Said Tamar; "and this dull and dreary shore
Is neither dull nor dreary at all hours."
Whereon the tear stole silent down his cheek,
Silent, but not by Gebir unobserved:
Wondering he gazed awhile, and pitying spake:
"Let me approach thee; does the morning light
Scatter this wan suffusion o'er thy brow,
This faint blue lustre under both thine eyes?"
"O brother, is this pity or reproach?"
Cried Tamar; "cruel if it be reproach,
If pity, oh, how vain!"
"Whate'er it be
That grieves thee, I will pity: thou but speak
And I can tell thee, Tamar, pang for pang."
"Gebir! then more than brothers are we now!
Everything, take my hand, will I confess.
I neither feed the flock nor watch the fold;
How can I, lost in love? But, Gebir, why
That anger which has risen to your cheek?
Can other men? could you?--what, no reply!
And still more anger, and still worse concealed!
Are these your promises, your pity this?"
"Tamar, I well may pity what I feel--
Mark me aright--I feel for thee--proceed--
Relate me all."
"Then will I all relate,"
Said the young shepherd, gladdened from his heart.
"'Twas evening, though not sunset, and springtide
Level with these green meadows, seemed still higher.
'Twas pleasant; and I loosened from my neck
The pipe you gave me, and began to play.
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