And now they built themselves a leafy bower,
Amid a glade, slow Mondai's stream beside,
Screen'd 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 pendant side by side
Were ranged, and on the ground the fires were drest;
Alas that populous hive hath now no living guest!
A few firm stakes they planted in the ground,
Circling a norrow 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 trimm'd 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.