100
POEMS.
NAIRLA.
On the dark forest trees the dew lay sleeping:
Sunset had tinged with gold each fleecy cloud,
When her lone watch an Indian girl was keeping,
Where a tall pine had cast its shadow proud.
Sunset had tinged with gold each fleecy cloud,
When her lone watch an Indian girl was keeping,
Where a tall pine had cast its shadow proud.
Nairla, the stern Manhatta's lovely daughter,
Brightest and best amid thy dark-browed race,
Linger not still thus by the lake's blue water,
Else will they miss thee from the greenwood chase.
Brightest and best amid thy dark-browed race,
Linger not still thus by the lake's blue water,
Else will they miss thee from the greenwood chase.
Oh! she is not alone! through wood and brake,
Parting the boughs that o'er his pathway fall,
An aged man his feeble way doth take,
And waves a welcome to the maiden's call.
Parting the boughs that o'er his pathway fall,
An aged man his feeble way doth take,
And waves a welcome to the maiden's call.
Swift as a deer she flies his steps to meet,
And lead him 'neath the stately forest tree,
And then the maiden kneeling at his feet,
Bowed her young brow in bitter agony.
And lead him 'neath the stately forest tree,
And then the maiden kneeling at his feet,
Bowed her young brow in bitter agony.
"Father," she cried, "look on these waving trees,
This silver lake. Is it not passing fair?
Yet, oh! my father, death is in the breeze,
That steals e'en now to play within thine hair.
This silver lake. Is it not passing fair?
Yet, oh! my father, death is in the breeze,
That steals e'en now to play within thine hair.
