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156

WOLFE OF THE KNOLL.

Circling him round in double band
The wailers rend the air with cries.
"Alas, for him !" the mother moans,
"Alas, for him !" a weeper groans,
"Alas, for him !" in chorus wild
They shriek, "Alas, alas the child !"
Calmly the sleeper sleeps the while,
And smiles great Azrael's heavenly smile.
They shower upon his marble breast
The costliest spices of the East ;
Around the little form they wind
The richest broideries of Ind ;
Then raise the mat with tender care,
And forth the mournful burden bear.

Louder and shriller swells the wail ;
Wildly, in sign of heaviest bale,
The women toss their kerchiefs blue,
Then beat their breasts, their shrieks renew.