Where to find the fleeing Tamals.

Loud the wail of lamentation
When the Tamals saw their warriors
Who had fallen in the combat
Lying lifeless on the mountain.
Louder still, the cry of anguish
When they found their Maid of Mercy
Helpless now, and sorely wounded.
No more would her strong young shoulders
Bear the wounded braves to safety,
Nor would she withdraw the arrows,
Bind the wounds nor stanch the bleeding.

On the shoulder of the Chieftain
She was carried, for no other
Had such strength and gentle manner.
On his shoulder thus he bore her,
Fleeing northward on the ridges,
Bore her gladly, for he loved her.
All the women were exhausted,
All the children, tired and weeping;
Half the warriors, dead or wounded -
Slow and painful was the progress.

On they fled, but often turning,
Looking backward o'er their shoulders,
Fearful lest the foe o'ertake them
Ere they reached a place of safety.