Their forest huts to dance in the green glade,
Or pluck the wild flowers on the hillock sheen.
She was beloved by rivals of her tribe,
And for a season smiled alike on both.
The one was bright and joyous as herself;
He loved to bring her flowers—to snare with her
The fish that sparkled in the silvery stream;
To range the wood or shore, and rifle thence
Some delicate feather, or some purple shell,
To please a maiden’s fancy.—But his rival