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

220 THE LEAGUE OF THE 1BOQUOIS.
Still straining wide her tearful sight
Along the billows far away ;
Sad watching through the lonely night,
Sad watching through the lonely day
Till dark the shadows fell again,
Nor recked of hunger's gnaw and smart ;
But felt love's keener fast and pain,
The fiercer hunger of her heart.
If fain at whiles her mat to press,
She sought the wigwam waiting lone,
No sleep such anguished eyes would bless -
Would charm the lids so tearful grown ;
For haunting dark her tender breast
Would come the thought of pain, and dread
No more that widowed couch of rest
Might pillow sweet each dearer head.
Or, when through many a cloudy cleft
Wo-ne-da's softened splendors smiled,
She, rising thence, and more bereft,
Forth by love's waning hope beguiled,
Afar with hapless feet would stray,
With mournful step, more feeble grown ;
To watch the orient's kindling ray
And hark Ti-o-to's rippled moan.