LXI.
Then the rude victor washed the stains away,
Cast him on earth, and soon deep slumber showed
How lightly in his rugged bosom lay
The horrid memory of that scene of blood;—
But Williams watched until the dawning gray,
And Mary’s fitful sleep the scenes renewed,
While the young dreamers in her circling arms,
Oft shrieked and sobbed in slumber’s vain alarms.
LXII.