And southward o'er the ocean gazed;
Then on the sacred grass that made
His lowly couch his limbs he laid.
His head on that strong arm reclined
Which Sítá, best of womankind,
Had loved in happier days to hold
With soft arms decked with pearls and gold.
Then rising from his bed of grass,
“This day,” he cried, “the host shall pass
Triumphant to the southern shore,