II.
If in the lonely wilds, by evening dim,
That vengeful savage should the path waylay
Of all the dearest earth contained for him,
Those jewels of the heart, what power could stay
His thirst for blood—his fury wild and grim
As is the tiger’s bounding on his prey?
Oft came obtrusive this appalling thought—
He shook it off—still it returned unsought.
III.