But when the night cast up her shade aloft, / And all earth's colors strange in sable dy'd, / He light, and as he could his wounds upbound, / And shook ripe dates down from a palm he found.

The autumn winds rushing / Waft the leaves that are searest, / But our flower was in flushing, / When blighting was nearest.

The tribal chiefs vied to outfeast one another.

Our native horses[…] were held in small esteem, and fetched low prices.