ah trembles like a reed,
With hunted look she turns to plead:
"O Wenijishid, leave me, quick!
For dangers gather round thee thick.
We are discovered, and thy death
May hang upon each wasted breath.
Fly for thy life! Too late! too late!
Together we must meet our fate."
He smiles, and there with dauntless front
Would meet the coming foemen's brunt;
But she who will not leave his side
Bears in her hand his warrior pride,
And hopes of joyous life with her
Are sweeter than the battle's stir.
His war-whoop's taunt rings through the glen,
While answering come the cries of ten.
Wenonah clasps his brawny arm,
And lest his love might come to harm
He turns to where his birchen boat
Seems chafing to be set afloat;
And, ere their foes have gained the strand,
The light canoe beneath his hand
Leaps off before a foaming track.
He flings a yell of triumph back,
And grimly smiles as on he flies
To hear their disappointed cries;
Yet lest they may too soon pursue,
He urges on the flight anew.
He plies the paddle with a will,
They skim the waves,--but swifter still
A vengeful arrow cleaves the air,
To sink between his shoulders bare.
The shock is cruel, and the blade
Falls from his hand; his powers all fade
Like thought, and plunging on his face,
Deathlike he lies. Now to his place
Wenonah springs; with bloodless lip,
With gleaming eye and nervous grip,
She works the paddle with a force
Of which but love could be the source.
Beyond the range of bow, she flings
The blade aside and fiercely brings
Her wounded hero to her breast.
Now sadly called, now wildly pressed,
He breathes at last a feeble sigh,
And, feeling sure he will not die,
She labors strongly, full of hope
And nerved with any fate to cope.
She gains the shore, and stoutly bears
Her chief through brush and wild beast lairs.
All through the night she speeds her flight.
To where his people's fires burn bright.
When friendly, helping hands are found,
And she has given him to their care,
She sinks upon the leafy ground,
Panting like a hunted hare.
Her faithful powers have filled their task,
Their sacred trust no more need ask,
And now the goal is gained, they bind
Oblivion's charm around her mind.

* * * * *

Young life is pliant, love will give
A mighty motive still to live.
And when he wakes, with deep surprise
He meets the dark and glorious eyes
Of dear Wenonah on him bent
In passion's hope absorbed, content.

*