Classic Poem

She sank — the baby floated,
As if its life was boated.
Swift Adwick soon the struggler caught,
And almost touch'd the mother's hair,
The sinking face of her despair.
He plac'd the infant in the boat;
Then, from its stooping side,
Plung'd deep beneath the tide;
Rose, dived, and rose, to dive in vain;
Yet liv'd to see that face again!
Recovering soon his rocking boat,
He sate awhile in painful thought:
" Another victim! women run
To Konig's lord, to be undone.
If man may tempt them, Konig can;
Ay, Konig is your woman's man. "
Gently he laid upon his knee
The frighted child, and wept to see
Its helpless loveliness;
Yet felt he not the less
The promptings of an inward snake,
To hate it for its father's sake.
" I'll plague yon false betroth'd of mine; "
(Grimly he spoke, and grimly smil'd,)
" I'll take the babe to Etheline;
She loves the sire? — why not the child? "