Upon the last hill top, when white men’s huts appeared?
XV.
“Then welcome be my death song, and my death!
Since I have seen thee, and again embraced.”
And longer had he spent his toil-worn breath;
But with affectionate and eager haste,
Was every arm outstretched around their guest,
To welcome and to bless his aged head.
Soon was the hospitable banquet placed;
And Gertrude’s lovely hands a balsam shed