But now slow sap and steady siege have wrought
The conquest long delayed. The Chiefs that fought
So long together, feel the touch of fate,
Bow to its bidding. Calm though not elate,
Swart CECIL yields him at discretion. So
The garrison marches forth! But e'en the foe
Gives chivalrous salute to beaten men
Unshamed by forced surrender. Hail them, then,
With sympathetic cheers! The white-haired Chief,
Lifts hat in greeting. He, all brawn and beef,