When Albert’s hand he grasped;—but Albert knew not him—
XII.
“And hast thou then forgot,” he cried, forlorn,
And eyed the group with half indignant air,
“Oh! hast thou, Christian chief, forgot the morn
When I with thee the cup of peace did share?
Then stately was this head, and dark this hair
That now is white as Appalachia’s snow;
But, if the weight of fifteen years’ despair,
And age hath bowed me, and the torturing foe,