Slowly the doomed man drifted,
Yet faster, at each breath,
The quickening current bore him
To the open gates of death!
Yet still he slept; aye, slept and dreamed
Of the proud Creek's peerless flower
Who, for deathless love of him,
Had braved her nation's power.
Spurned her murdered siris corpse
And to his murderer clung!
Aye, on the spot that drank his blood,
Love's soothing ditties sung!
Dreamed of the eyes that flashed with fire
When his foeman dared draw nigh,
Yet softened into tenderness
At her lover's faintest sigh.
Dreams of the hand that sped the dart
That pierced the chieftain's breast,
Yet with such witching tenderness
Could tremble in caress!
Dreams of the heart that proudly braved
A nation's deadly hate,
Yet, at a lover's first command,
Would brook a martyr's fate!
Dreams of the hour when Tululah,
Who so bravely saved his life,
Shall desert her baffled kinsman
To become a white man's wife!
Dreams how he would love and prize her,
Shielding her with tenderest care,
Spending time, and life, and fortune
But to grant her lightest prayer.
But his dream is rudely broken,
And his blanched lip loudly calls,
For he hears the well known rumbling
Of this river's awful falls.
Life was sweet, death was so near,
And he so young to die!
No wonder that his trembling lips
Sought mercy from on high.
He bore ten thousand tortures
With every passing breath,
As he lay bound and helpless,
Gliding swiftly on to death.
He raised his clarion voice
Above the deafening roar;
Great heavens! can a human cry
Reach that resounding shore?
"Yes! Yes!" a once familiar voice
Calls loudly from that shore,
And a well known trapper woos time
To life and hope once more!
By an effort, born of hope renewed,
McCray sprang to his feet;
The trapper saw, his lariat flew,
His outstretched hands to greet.
"Steady!" the practical huntsman cried:
"Your peril is almost o'er;
Steady, for in a moment
Your foot shall press the shore!"
Then, as he drew the skiff ashore,
He recognized McCray,
But gazed in silent wonder
For late raven locks were grey!
And never, to his dying day,
Would McCray view the place
Where, in suspended agony,
He met death face to face!
He shuddered at an Indian's name,
And soon forgot the Queen,
Who once so bravely saved him
From a nation's senseless spleen.
He wooed and won a maiden
Whose blue eyes, like your own,
Held within their liquid depths,
Love's nectarine full blown,
And as I press your luscious lips
I praise thee, brave McCray,
Whose dauntless courage gave to me
The girl I hold today!