And, loving, I will die!

Night's clouds were streaked with red of dawn.

Beyond the hills Aleko sate

Alone on ancient burial mound,

With blood-stained dagger in his hand.

Near him lay two lifeless bodies;

His face was fixed and motionless,

And vacant stared at gipsy crowd,

Who fearsome stood around and gazed.

In farther field they dug a grave;

With solemn step the women moved,

And kissed the eyelids of the dead.

Apart the old man stood and looked,

In silent helplessness of grief,

Upon the dead girl's rigid form.

Lightly they raised the bodies twain,

And slowly bore them to the grave,

And laid the youthful erring pair

In the cold, bosom of the, earth.

Aleko from afar watched all,

But when the last handful of dust

Over the sleeping dead was cast,

In silence low he bent his head,

And prone on grass fell from the mound.

The old man then approached and said:

"Go, leave us now, thou haughty man!

We wild folk have no law to bind.

To torture or to punish men;

We need no sinner's blood, or groans,

Nor can we with a murd'rer five.

Thou art not born for wild free will,

Thou wouldst thyself alone be free;

Thy voice will strike but terror here