And night shadows cover the rioting braves, the Iroquois meet with their fate.
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See! the Hurons, Algonquins, are paddling away, and northward they turn with a will,
As war songs and yelpings ascend to the sky, of torture the braves have their fill,
Calm and quiet there sits that warrior white, who has won them the stirring lake fight,
And the breeze sighs, “Champlain!” while the stirring refrain clarions forth like the wild eagle’s flight.
This is the song which the loon sang,
Sang as he swam on the glimmering lake,
Sang to the splash and thud of the waves,
As the hills reëchoed his wild, laughing call;