No More Learning

There, gazing o'er the vast main with
tear-filled eyes, with saddened voice in tristful           thus did she
lament her land:

"Mother-land, O my creatress, mother-land, O my begetter, which full sadly
I'm forsaking, as runaway serfs are wont from their lords, to the woods of
Ida I have hasted on foot, to stay 'mongst snow and icy dens of ferals, and
to wander through the hidden lurking-places of ferocious beasts.