The league of the Iroquois and other legends : from the Indian muse

170 THE LEAGUE OF THE IROQUOIS.
Nobler soul !
Though uncontrolled
Is the woe thy bosom knows ;
In its anguish unconsoled,
In each loving tear that flows,
For the loved ones pouring free ;
In thy pierced and bleeding breast,
In its pulse of agony
Is thy greatness more confessed.
Oh, methinks the mighty heart
Bravest in the battle-strife,
Sorrowed, feels a keener smart !
He that girds a noble life,
He that deeds heroic dares,
Deeds that most do greatness prove,
Deeper pain his bosom bears,
Throbbing with its larger love.
Yet shall he, so sorely pressed
By the evil hand of fate,
Owning in a deeper breast
Love of Oway-neo great,
Soonest in the darkened years
Yield the pain of ills that throng
To the medicine of tears,
In the Faith Immortal strong.