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

32 THE LEAGUE OF THE IROQVOIS.
And who may say, as on lie drew,
He saw afar a glory shrined ;
Nor that his heart turned, yearning, to
A greater glory left behind ?
Howe'er it be, still on he held ;
While on the tide a splendor shed
That frail canoe, as self-impelled
And like the dawn it onward sped.
And on, and on, and still away,
And still away and on, and on ;
He passed the doorways of the day.
The gateways of the setting sun ;
And still away it eager pressed,
More light and fleeter than the swan :
As if the sea with loving breast
Would bear the precious burden on.
Near by enchanted shores he drew,
Saw where the dread Magicians dwell ;
But felt no fear, for well he knew
Nor wicked art, nor wizard spell
Had power to harm ;
his clearer eyes
Saw medicine for every pain,
Saw that on faithful souls and wise
They wrought their evil charms in vain.