LIII.
"Ten summers since, on yonder margin green,"
He thus continued in a sadder tone,
"A strong old hunter—Keenomp he had been
Of many deeds—dwelt with his daughter lone:
She, like the bright-eyed fawn, whose beauteous mien
So charms the hunter that he stands like stone;
He, like the brawny stag, with burning eye
And antlers broad, and sinews that defy
LIV.
"The well-aimed shaft. Then Waban was a boy;
And, lonely, loved to go, by moonlight dim
Or dewy morn, to see, all life and joy,
The Bright-Eyed Fawn. But ah! it chanced to him
One morn to seek her at her home's employ—
And, O! what havoc there!—what horrors grim!
The old man lay in gore!—his daughter gone!
His lodge in ashes! But the dewy lawn
LV.
"Showed prints of hostile feet. Waban is true—
He followed on the trail—a devious route;
Far up the winding stream the morning dew
Betrayed their steps, and hers with theirs; here out
They turned—leaping from rock to rock, they drew
Still onward far, until a thrilling shout,
From far Woonsocket, died on Waban's ears:
He pauses—listens—and again he hears—
LVI.
"The Pequot's yell! My Sachem sure has seen
The well-drawn arrow leave the red man's bow;
So Waban went—the steps he made between
Him and his foes no memory left—e'en now
