THE YOUNG MAN
“As clouds of dust from whirlwinds hie,
So scattered quite thy people lie;
And he, Kuchúm,[166] dread of the world,
Is dead, on foreign deserts hurled.”
THE OLD MAN
“The holy Shamans, forced from home,
Throughout the rugged forests roam;
For this, ye gods of earth and air,
Was it that white has grown my hair?