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

THE WONDROUS DEEDS. 43
Still loud liis flinty arrows clank,
Still woke the shriek of dying pain,
Till farthest hill and valley drank
The blood of many a dragon slain ;
Each ugly beast, with cry and roar,
That crawled or ran or swam or flew,
Fell reeking red with dying gore
Fell darkly pierced, through and through.
He slew the frightful Flying Head,
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The foe that most did them appall ;
And them that on the People fed,
The Stonish Giants, fierce and tall ;
"
Save one that from such warrior brave
Swift o'er the land did flee away
Far to the south ;
there in a cave
Deep in the earth is hid to-day.
Wide borne as on the winds amain
Went tidings of his name and fame ;
Till from the wood and from the plain
Afar his tawny people came
With hearts elate, intent to know
The growing wonder,
learn with awe
The mystery of the hunter-bow,
And how to hold, and how to draw.
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