Long ere the mid hour of the night,
Crossed the dark robbers in their flight
The grassy carpet of a glade,
From which, through bowers of glossy green,
Bright glimpses of the Lake were seen
On which wan moonlight played.
Plunging in thickets, soon they hied
Without one friendly star to guide,
So dark the cover overhead
Of long-armed butternut, inweaved
With oak and chestnut thickly-leaved,
And evergreen outspread.
Eastward the lake of silver breast,
Beneath a cloudless sky at rest,
A gun-shot from their wood-path lay;
But, on its beach of whitened sand,
Dreaded a march-that crafty band-
Lest footprint might betray.
Emerged, at last, each cautious brave
From sylvan labirynth of gloom,
And low winds, freshened by the wave,
Stirred blanket-fold and eagle-plume :
Again the moonshine brightly fell
On rounded brooch and bead of shell,
On spoiler and his pinioned prey,
From friends, a weary march, away.
Descending from the higher ground,
Through matted underwood they wound,
And on a tongue of land arrived,
Outstretching far into the mere,
An emerald set in crystal clear,
Dotted with oaks whose upright forms
Stern warfare with the wrestling storms
Of ages had survived.
A clump, more ancient than the others-
A group of iron-hearted brothers,
Towered with their trunks of rugged shape
Near the curved margin of the cape:
And underneath their branches gray,
To halt until the dawn of day,
Encamped that predatory horde:
Short was their meal-their only cheer, Parched maize, and smoke-dried flesh of deer
Mossed earth their banquet-board.
With flint and steel though well supplied,
Red camp-fire they enkindled not,
Through fear some treach'rous brand might guide
Fierce, wandering Maquas to the spot.
Thirsting for blood, and armed to slay, While, bound in slumber's thrall, they lay.
When broken was their lengthened fast,
The pipe around the circle passed;
Then, wearied by a march of toil,
And glad their toughened limbs to rest,
All couched them down upon the soil,
As if it was their mother's breast,
Save watchman gaunt who vigil kept
While others in their blankets slept,
And two, upon a fallen tree,
Seated in earnest colloquy :
One that dark man of evil mien
Who first spied Blanche in arbor green,
And Huron who, through forest dim,
In swift retreat had guided him.
"My brother now his eye may close,
Safe from assault of roving foes;
Brown, burrowing moles have keener sight,
And water leaves no trace of flight”—
Growled the old chief-" Enough for them
Like leaves to die on girdled stem;
For them enough in their despair
To strike the painted battle-post,
While rush, to smoke them in their lair,
Great Yonnondio and his host!
Through brambly wold and swampy ground It ill becomes a brave to dodge,
Like hunted fox before the hound,
To place yon White-Rose in thy lodge,
Winning himself, a stripling's prize,
Her sister-flower of darker dyes!
What will my taunting tribesmen say
If I am absent from the fray,
Counting, in scorn before my face,
The scalp-locks of a vanquished race?
On this gray head will rest disgrace—
Hushed will my voice in council be,
Clouded my name eternally ;-
Speak, brother, speak!"
(Exclaimed his comrade in reply,
While gathered gloom upon his brow,)
"And ask acquittal from a vow
Pledged to another solemnly?
In other mould I deemed thee cast-
One proving faithful to the last ;—
Thy brother, to his promise true,
Thee and thy warriors will requite
With blankets of a gaudy hue,
And ornaments of silver bright,
Richer than mighty Sagamore
In hall of council ever wore
If guarded on his dangerous trail :-
Ere rise and set four fleeting suns,
Our camping ground will be the vale
Through which the Wy-a-lu-sing runs ;
There waits the friendly Nanticoke
His calumet with us to smoke,
And mats provide of texture fine
On which our tired limbs may recline."
"Hah! doubting still what course to take, Thy word redeem, or compact break?
For answering with stab and yell
The challenge of the sentinel
Who from foul shame an Indian spared,
Mad with deep draughts of liquid fire,
When whip was raised, and back was bared,
By calming Yonnondio's ire ?
Who bears the name that Frenchmen bore?
Rememberest thou?" "No more, no more!-
When dusky night is at an end
The Black Fox journeys with his friend!" Then, on the ground with green-sward floored, Their ancient amity restored,
Stretched their tired limbs, that miscreant pair, 'Till day-break gleamed to slumber there.
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