Here Wenonda dwelt in this vale of water,
Till the Spirit-voice should call,
And with him Alissa his dusky daughter—
Loveliest of maidens all.
And many a chieftain fain had woo’d her,—
From distant lands they came—
But in vain they sought, for none who viewed her
The light of her smile could claim.
IV.
None, none—save a kinsman long since cherished,
In life’s bright morning scene,—
Now all but the memory had perished
Of what they once had been.
But Alissa oft in silence pondered
O’er the voice that spoke her fate,
And Oneydo where’er his footsteps wandered,
Bore a heart half love—half hate.
V.
For a Spirit-voice had come with its warning—
With words that deeply warn,—
“From the distant land of the rich-robed morning,
From the clime where the sun is born,
A chieftain shall come to this vale of water,
In a chieftain’s state and pride,
To woo Wenonda’s lovely daughter,
And bear her away as his bride.”
VI.
Then sinking low, the voice grew dimmer
That fell on Wenonda’s ear
Till it blent with the breeze and the wan star’s shimmer
When the midnight hour grew near.
And the chieftain forgot that warning never,
And the maid and the lover knew
That all was o’er—yet in silence ever
Each heart to the other beat true.