Brave Balta clasped me to his breast
Beneath the midnight sky;—
"Now go I east or go I west,
I'll love thee till I die!"
"O wander east or wander west,
My Balta," soft I sighed,
"By moon and stars I'll love thee best,
And wait to be thy bride!"
Thrice fell the snows on field and tent,
And weary was my life,—
When proud a Prince rode up, and bent,
And wooed me for his wife.
"Nay, sir, I must be Balta's bride;
To him my heart I gave;"—
He sprang to earth; his cloak flung wide;
And lo! 't was Balta brave!