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

212 THE LEAGUE OF THE IROQUOIS.
Still on the softly-murmuring marge
His latest, lingering footsteps show,
Where lightly waits the mystic barge
For Hayo-went-ha, soon to go ;
All glory-mantled stands the Chief,
As touched with an immortal spell ;
In pity for his People's grief,
Delays he still the last farewell.
*
Lo ! now he takes the parting hand ;
Lo ! now is said the parting word ;
Now parts the Chee-maun from the strand-
Goes speeding like the wing of bird
Far on the billows looming large ;
The warriors brave, in sorrow new.
Gaze tearful on that fleeting barge ;
He beckons back a last adieu.
Now faintly from the fading shore
Sad hears he on the widening sea :
"0 Knee-ha ! Knee-ha ! nevermore J
Father ! Father ! woe
is me ! !"
Still fainter to his ear arise
His people's anguished cry and moan
For Hayo-went-ha great and wise
For noble Hayo-went-ha gone.