22
XXX.
There stood the Indian hamlet, there the lake
Spread its blue sheet that flash’d with many an oar,
Where the brown otter plung’d him from the brake,
And the deer drank—as the light gale flew o’er,
The twinkling maize-field rustled on the shore;
And while that spot, so wild and lone and fair,
A look of glad and innocent beauty wore,
And peace was on the earth and in the air,
The warrior lit the pile, and bound his captive there:—
XXXI.
Not unaveng’d—the foeman, from the wood,
Beheld the deed, and when the midnight shade
Was stillest, gorg’d his battle-axe with blood;
All died—the wailing babe—the shrieking maid—
And in the flood of fire that scath’d the glade
The roofs went down; but deep the silence grew,
When on the dewy woods the day-beam play’d;
No more the cabin smokes rose wreath’d and blue,
And ever, by their lake, lay moor’d the light canoe.
