As lives the oak unwithered on the rock
By storms above, and barrenness below;
He scorned his own, who felt another’s woe:
And ere the wolf-skin on his back he flung,
Or laced his moccasins,[42] in act to go,
A song of parting to the boy he sung,
Who slept on Albert’s couch, nor heard his friendly tongue.
XXV.
“Sleep, wearied one! and in the dreaming land
Shouldst thou to-morrow with thy mother meet.[39]