"And, O! to my mother, in kindliest tone, The mournful tidings bear, And soothe her woes for her warrior gone, For her lost Isfendiyár.

Now a' the congregation o'er Is silent expectation; For Moodie speels the holy door Wi' tidings o' damnation.

To wait my Doom; what Tidings hast thou, Guzman? Guz.