IV.
‘I met that chief, and proved him well,’
Nemattanow replied,
‘And I left him down three fathoms deep
‘Beneath the sluggish tide.
‘Our people now through all our groves
‘Their accustom’d walks may take,
‘Nor start and cry, “There comes Sir John!”
‘If a twig but chance to break.
‘Our fight was bloody, long, and fierce;
‘The moon alone look’d on,
‘And none but the river-god can tell
‘Where sleeps the brave Sir John.’