“Dirck stays in Holland,”[293] the sailors say;
“He has wedded a dame of wealth and state;
He sails no more for many a day—
God send us all like happy fate!”
Dark grows the brow of the angered sire:
“Can the white man lie like a Huron knave?”
The eyes of the maiden burn like fire,
But her mien is steady, her words are brave.
From her bosom she drags[294] the great gold chain;
Dashed[295] at the captain’s feet it lies: