Make music to his aged ear?
Oh! thus to love can only be
Refined, absorbing misery!
But cloudy years were gathering fast,
And ere they should their shadows cast
Upon his grave, the sole, fair flower
He would might grace some chieftain’s bower.
And when, to woo her for his bride,
The Children-of-the-Reindeer’s pride,
Great Assiboin, his love gifts bore: