OLD MAN.

I remember, I remember,

It is a song of olden days;

And years ago, to please our folk,

Marie would sing this rhyme to them.

On winter nights, when we were camped

On the Kagoula barren steppes,

Marie would chant the savage lay.

And rock the child before the fire

I lose all count of byegone days.

And quickly fades their memory;

But this one song has ta'en deep root.,

And still I hear its mocking notes.

Now all is still; 'tis night; the moon

With silver tips the southern pole.

Sudden the gipsy-sire is roused

From sleep by Zemphire's touch and voice.

ZEMPHIRE.

In his sleep Aleko frights me;

He tosses, groans, and sighs, and weeps.

OLD MAN.

Disturb him not, but silence keep.

I oft have heard the Russians say,

At night, the demon of the house

Will haunt the troubled sleeper's dream,

And then at dawn itself depart.

Till then, 'tis well thou sitst by me.

ZEMPHIRE.

In sleep he starts, and cries, Zemphire!

OLD MAN.

Though dreaming, still he seeks for thee

Dearer than all thou art to him.

ZEMPHIRE.