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Rh Only in dreaming; while a warm, red gleam Falls on the brown of rude encircling wall, Leaving a smoke-beclouded roof in gloom; Falls on barb'd javelins, and bows and arrows, And many hunting spoils of him who lies Near to his father, silent, stark, and cold; Ruddies the dark bare limbs of life and death. Rich furs are under and over the young form; Furs golden, furs of lynx, and ocelot: A small uncomely dog, with pointed ears, Presses his faithful body to the corpse. He was a comely boy, a mighty hunter, A bold young warrior, hope of all the tribe, And his infirm old father's only stay. When humid morning, chill, and pale, and wan, Peers at those intervals between the boughs Of wattled wall, yon ashes will be grey, And still the old man be cowering by the dead! Then the fond faltering sire must wander forth Alone; away from this unpitying herd Of yet unwounded men into the wild; There to fade slowly; with a feeble hand