Chapter XX

Kneeling at length, upheld he with strong arm
Her beauteous head, but in the temples beat
No pulse of life:--tears gushing fast and warm
Refresh a heart, of transcient ill the seat,
As raindrops cool the summer's midday heat;
But when descends some desolating blow
That makes this world a desert, how unmeet
Is outward symbol!--and far, far below
The water-mark of grief was Oh-wen-do-skah's wo!