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

THE VICTORY. 267
And forth at dusk she softly crept
To bear them to the sheltering wood ;
While prone the snaky monster slept,
Made drunken with his feast of blood.
As fleet as flees the startled hare,
She to the leafy covert fled ;
Her weary feet she rested there,
Bewailing still her kindred dead.
Still for her grief no comfort knew,
No sleep her eyes so tearful saw,
Till midnight bright with vision grew,
And all the land was hushed in awe.
Lo ! on the dark, with glowing haft,
An arrow shone : with wondrous skill
Thence was she taught to shape the shaft
Wherewith that monster she might kill.
Straightway with patient hand she wrought
The weapon ;
at the peep of day
She forth that venomed reptile sought,
Alone the wanton brute to slay.
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