And suddenly lifting up her hands with the action of a prophetess inspired, she chanted--
O daughter of Babylon, Near to destruction, Bless'd shall he be that thee rewards As thou to us hast done.
Yea, happy, surely, shall he be, Thy tender little ones, Who shall lay hold upon, and them Shall dash against the stones.
I trembled, as well I might, at the fury I had unwittingly kindled.
We were now in the woods, the main travelled road far behind us, a complexity of paths and rabbit tracks all about, and before us a green walk, dark and clammy, upon which the snow had hardly yet laid hold. On one side rose up the wall of an ancient orchard, which they said had been planted and built about by the monks of old. On the other was the moat, still frozen, only divided from us by an evergreen fe
