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

194 THE LEAGUE OF THE IROQUOIS.
The westering sun that tranquil shone
Seemed burdened with a mourn fulness ;
Or something in his deeper tone,
Portent of what they might not guess,
They felt, when Hayo-went-ha spoke ;
Foreboding sad, though none might tell
What grief presaged, that darkly woke
The troubled dread of coming ill.
No brow but showed a trace of care,
No eye but free bedewed the plain
With tears, as Yo-yo-hon-to there
Ran brimming with the summer rain.
And close and closer round him drew
The braves, the Avhile their hearts were stirred
To listen to his last adieu,
To Hayo-went-ha's parting word.