Then stores in his dark lonely cell the rich pelf,
For, ill bred and greedy, he cares but for self.
[p30]
No children, no wife, no companion had he,
With his very best friend he could never agree,
But lived by himself without pleasure or mirth,
In a hermit-like vault, five feet deep in the earth;
But the sentinel marmot’s shrill whistle of fear
Echoes loud o’er the plain, and is heard far and near
By his joyous allies, for whose safety he cared,
And whose dangers, mirth, sorrows, and dwelling he shared.