Ii

Her stern descendant next I praise, Survivor of a thousand frays:-- In the hall of tongues who ruled the throng; Led and was trusted by the strong; And when spears were in the wood, Like a tower of vantage stood:-- Whom, not till seventy years had sped, Unscarred of breast, erect of head, Still light of step, still bright of look, The hunter, Death, had overtook.