Tribeless, his ancient heritage betrayed;
Alone, he is belittled to himself!
O, heavily fate's scorn shall fall on him;
Far in the waste upon his track prowls death;
Unmourned he drops; unburied shall he lie;
The wild beast's portion and the vulture's perch;
The outcast, whitening in the passing winds;
The fool, erased from human memory!"
"All ye remembered years, upbear me now!"
The Roamer cried, descending down the dark;
And he was shut in that tremendous pass
Whose exit lay on sky-hung capes unknown,
On seas of death perchance; for well he knew
The frailty that the wasting years had wrought,
And his stern need, O, not of youth's green strength
Undisciplined, but that all-secret proof
Which from defeat its perfect temper takes,—
The wisdom of how much the weak can dare;
And he had learned in what close mail he goes,
How steadfast, who doth own his ruin just,
But dares despair not of the deeds to be.
The hollow track fell downward through the gulch,
