Naught save one broken, tottering wall remained
Beneath the unshaken, firmly-rooted oak.
Then from the branches came a faint, thin voice,
"My children, I am saved!" and looking up,
We found him clinging with what strength was left
Unto the boughs. We led him home with us,
Starving and sick, and chilled through blood and bone.
Our tenderest care was needed to revive
The life half spent, and soon we learned the tale
Of his salvation. He had climbed at first