But an hundred years have vanished thrice

Since hearth-stones smoked upon the shore: The Munsee dreamed not of a foe;

Unstrung were the warrior's arm and brow;
And, couched on skins, he little thought
The fall of his nation was at hand:

His ear no rattle of serpent caught,
No gliding ghost a warning brought
While came the Mengwe band.

Too late-too late to fight or fly

Was rang the knell of his ancient power;
His lip pealed forth no rallying cry,
From slumber he only woke to die
At the solemn midnight hour.

In gore his household-gods were drenched,
His altar-fires in gore were quenched;
The wail of babe in blood was choked,
In blood his burial-place was soaked,
And, lighting up the midnight-heaven,
To flame were the huts of his people given.

XXVII.

Though tall oaks fell in their kingly pride,
The conqueror saved a trembling leaf;
Of that little clan all darkly dyed
Save On-no-lee, the cherished bride

Of their brave but luckless chief.
Morn dawned upon a frightful scene-

K2

The Canadice in sunshine lay;

But blood was on its margin green—

A tribe was swept away.

On the blackened site of a town destroyed,

The raven a goodly meal enjoyed,

And the wolf called forth her whelps, to share That banquet red, from her gloomy lair.

XXVIII.

Morn dawned-and on their homeward track The Mengwe, flushed with conquest, sped, And, a far-famed leader, Mic-ki-nac,

That band of spoilers led.

To the red belt, his waist around,

The hapless On-no-lee was bound;

Spared from the death-doom of her race,
The pomp of his return to grace,

And live the slave of one who bore

The scalp of her fallen Sagamore.

XXIX.

At noon, to snatch a light repast,
The party. halted in the shade;
But On-no-lee broke not her fast,
And in the dust, with loathing cast,
The food before her laid.

Oh! woman wronged, within her soul

Feels fire flash up that mocks control,

When the ruthless fiend, to whom she owes

The fearful sum of her blasting woes,

Is yielded up her prey by Fate,

And the dagger is nigh to second hate!

Mic-ki-nac sat on a fallen tree,

And of savory no-ke-hike partook, And by his side was On-no-lee, Survivor of the butchery,

Who eyed his knife with an eager look. Round the haft her fingers lightly wreathed, The glittering weapon she unsheathedOne well-aimed blow, and she was free! Another,—and the purple tide

Gushed from her savage captor's side

Who leaped like a wounded stag, and died.

XXXI.

Thunder, without a cloud in sight,

Or whisper of warning on the gale, Could not have roused more wild affright, Amid his braves, than deed of might Wrought by a hand so frail!

Ere they recovered from the shock
Fled On-no-lee like hunted deer;
Glen, stream and interposing rock

Barred not her swift career:

A vigor never felt before,
The form of the fugitive upbore,

And to her active foot gave wing,

Though fleet were the blood-hounds following.

XXXII.

In vain the foremost runner strained,

And arrows launched from his twanging bow, For On-no-lee, exulting, gained

A cliff, beyond the reach of foe,

That beetled over the lake below.
Last of her race, with desperate eye-

On the ruined home of her tribe she gazed;
Waved her avenging arm on high,-
Taunted her baffled enemy,

And a ringing scream of triumph raised"Base, worrying curs!-go back, go back,

My scalp is saved from Mengwe smoke!
Go hence, and look for Mic-ki-nac-
The famished crow, and the raven black
A dirge above him croak!"
Regardless of the whizzing storm
Of missiles raining round her form,
Imploring eye she then upcast,

And a low, mournful death-hymn sang :
On hill and forest looked her last,
Once glance upon the water cast,
And from that high rock sprang.

XXXIII.

Away three hundred years have flown
Since the Munsee found a watery grave;
But when old Night is on her throne,
And stars troop forth her sway to own,
Rise warblings from the wave:

And a shadowy face of mournful mien,
With locks all draggled by the surge,
Belated wanderers have seen

From the glittering lake emerge-
One moment float in moonlight fair,

Then mix with the waters, or vanish in air."

XXXIV.

Ere Blanche could Wun-nut-hay reward
With one approving smile or word,
A muffled tread upon the sward,

And sound of parting boughs she heard:
Upspringing, with a joyous cry,

She deemed her gallant husband nigh;
An instant more,—and in her mien
Fear's paralyzing power was seen;
All color vanished from her cheek,

Her lips were locked, and could not speak :
Back was her head in horror thrown-

Her form all motionless like stone:

Whence came the spell that bound her frame,