A sibylline song to her lover she sang,
As she sat in the moonlight alone by his grave,
And a more mournful strain on the night never rang
Or saddened the soul of a guardian brave.
“How oft have I seen him when only a child,
His forehead with feathery fetishes crownded,
Arrest with his arrow the deer in the wild,
Or bring the gray swan from the sky to the ground.
“How oft have I seen a strange light in his eyes
As over the white foaming billows we whirled