On the white bones the mouldering roof will fall; Seeds will take root, and spring in sun and shower; And Mother Earth ere long with her green pall, Resuming to herself the wreck, will cover all.

13.

Oh! better thus with earth to have their part,
Than in Egyptian catacombs to lie,

Age after age preserved by horrid art,

In ghastly image of humanity!

Strange pride that with corruption thus would vie! And strange delusion that would thus maintain The fleshly form till cycles shall pass by, And, in the series of the eternal chain, The spirit come to seek its old abode again !

14.

One pair alone survived the general fate, Left in such drear and mournful solitude, That death might seem a preferable state. Not more depressed the Arkite patriarch stood, When landing first on Ararat he viewed, Where all around the mountain summits lay, Like islands seen amid the boundless flood; Nor our first parents more forlorn than they, Through Eden when they took their solitary way.

15.

Alike to them, it seemed in their despair,

Whither they wandered from the infected spot.

Chance might direct their steps: they took no

care;

Come well or ill to them, it mattered not!
Left as they were in that unhappy lot,
The sole survivors they of all their race,

They recked not when their fate, nor where, nor In this resignment to their hopeless case, [what, Indifferent to all choice or circumstance of place.

16.

That palsying stupor passed away ere long; And, as the spring of health resumed its power, They felt that life was dear, and hope was strong. What marvel? 'Twas with them the morning hour, When bliss appears to be the natural dower Of all the creatures of this joyous earth; And sorrow, fleeting, like a vernal shower, Scarce interrupts the current of our mirth: Such is the happy heart we bring with us at birth.

17.

Though of his nature and his boundless love
Erring, yet, tutored by instinctive sense,
They rightly deemed the Power who rules above
Had saved them from the wasting pestilence.
That favoring Power would still be their defence:
Thus were they by their late deliverance taught
To place a childlike trust in Providence ;

And in their state forlorn they found this thought Of natural faith with hope and consolation fraught.

18.

And now they built themselves a leafy bower,
Amid a glade, slow Mondai's stream beside,
Screened from the southern blast of piercing
power;

Not like their native dwelling, long and wide,
By skilful toil of numbers edified,

The common home of all, their human nest,
Where threescore hammocks, pendent side by

side,

Were ranged, and on the ground the fires were

dressed:

Alas! that populous hive hath now no living guest!

19.

A few firm stakes they planted in the ground, Circling a narrow space, yet large enow; These, strongly interknit, they closed around With basket-work of many a pliant bough. The roof was like the sides; the door was low, And rude the hut, and trimmed with little care, For little heart had they to dress it now; Yet was the humble structure fresh and fair, And soon its inmates found that love might sojourn there.

20.

Quiara could recall to mind the course
Of twenty summers; perfectly he knew

Whate'er his fathers taught of skill or force.

Right to the mark his whizzing lance he threw, And from his bow the unerring arrow flew With fatal aim; and, when the laden bee Buzzed by him in its flight, he could pursue Its path with certain ken, and follow free Until he traced the hive in hidden bank or tree.

21.

Of answering years was Monnema, nor less Expert in all her sex's household ways. The Indian weed she skilfully could dress; And in what depth to drop the yellow maize She knew, and when around its stem to raise The lightened soil; and well could she prepare Its ripened seed for food, her proper praise; Or in the embers turn with frequent care Its succulent head yet green, sometimes for daintier

fare.

22.

And how to macerate the bark she knew,

And draw apart its beaten fibres fine,

And, bleaching them in sun and air and dew,

From dry and glossy filaments intwine,

With rapid twirl of hand, the lengthening line; Next interknitting well the twisted thread,

In

many an even mesh its knots combine,

And shape in tapering length the pensile bed, Light hammock there to hang beneath the leafy shed.

23.

Time had been when, expert in works of clay, She lent her hands the swelling urn to mould, And filled it for the appointed festal day With the beloved beverage which the bold Quaffed in their triumph and their joy of old; The fruitful cause of many an uproar rude, When, in their drunken bravery uncontrolled, Some bitter jest awoke the dormant feud, And wrath and rage and strife and wounds and death ensued.

24.

These occupations were gone by; the skill
Was useless now, which once had been her pride.
Content were they, when thirst impelled, to fill
The dry and hollow gourd from Mondai's side;
The river from its sluggish bed supplied
A draught for repetition all unmeet;
Howbeit the bodily want was satisfied;

No feverish pulse ensued, nor ireful heat;
Their days were undisturbed, their natural sleep was

sweet.

25.

She, too, had learned in youth how best to trim
The honored Chief for his triumphal day,
And, covering with soft gums the obedient limb
And body, then with feathers overlay,