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Alone and slightly arm'd, be well assured I will defend my life and liberty, To the last bloody push of desperation.

I know thou wilt; it is thy desp'rate prowess Which makes me now, all robber as thou art, And lurking here disguised, as well I guess, For no good end,—to seek thy amity.

My amity! the noble Samarkoon— A chief of rank, and brother of Rasinga!

Strong passion by strong provocation roused, Is not a scrup'lous chooser of its means. How many of these armed desperadoes, From whose fell hands we did so lately rescue That petty chieftain and his child, could'st thou Within short time assemble?

Few remain Of those who once, at call of my shrill horn, With spear and bow in hand, and quiver'd back The deadly arrows bearing, issued forth From cave or woody jungle, fierce but stealthy, Like glaring, tawny pards,—few, few remain.