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

HAYO-WENT-HA'S DEPARTURE. 211
Sees he the forms of chieftains old,
Familiar shapes of noble braves,
The vanished shades of warriors bold ;
Above the glory-bounded waves
They beckon him, they glow and shine,
The wider Hunting Grounds they roam ;
And waits Ixe but the day's decline
To waft him to that dearer home.
Low sinks the slow-descending sun :
Now on the sward his people throng,
To so
until the day is done
A little space his stay prolong ;
Around him press with eager feet,
Or hurry to the parting place ;
To yield to him the reverence meet,
To clasp him in a last embrace.
Fair on the tide the orb of Day
Hangs like a shield of warrior-fame ;
Now level shoots his fiery ray
Like warrior-arrow, tipped with flame,
A glory on the wave and wood ;
Far-brightening all the sea and wold,
Now crimson in the burnished flood
He dips his shining disk of gold.
28