Within that rich pavilion,
High on a glittering throne,
A woman's form sat silently,
'Midst the glare of light alone.
Her jewell'd robes fell strangely still--
The drapery on her breast
Seem'd with no pulse beneath to thrill,
So stone-like was its rest!
But a peal of lordly music
Shook e'en the dust below,
When the burning gold of the diadem
Was set on her pallid brow!
Then died away that haughty sound,
And from the encircling band
Step Prince and Chief, 'midst the hush profound,
With homage to her hand.