To feign the calmness that her soul forsook.
And when the mourning wail rose on the air,
Winona’s voice was heard commingling there.
She gathered with the other maidens where,
On a rude bier, the conjurer’s body lay
Adorned and decked in funeral array.
She flung a handful of her sable hair,
And wept such tears above the painted clay[14]
As weeps a youthful widow, only heir,
Over the coffin of a millionaire.