The fagots heaped around—the flames awake!
LVII.
“Two warriors, standing, mock her cries, and four,
In the fire-water drenched, lie here and there
In slumber deep, from which they woke no more.
One arrow Waban sent;—through shoulder bare
Transfixed, one scoffer fell, and quenched in gore
His kindling brand. Then, springing from his lair,
As panther springs, with the bright glancing knife
Did Waban dart, and, hand to hand in strife,