Oh! I'm swiftly falling, falling,
And I spring into his arms!"
Not a trace of boat or maiden
Could the savage searchers find,
And they fled the spot in terror,
Daring not to look behind!
Nor would they tarry near the river,
But moved their wigwam's far away;
No savage Creek would linger
Near the spot by night and day.
And tradition says her spirit
May be seen on nights like this,
When the heavy moon, mist-laden,
Greets the river with a kiss!
Not in vain will be our vigil
If Tululah knows tonight
In your precious veins is flowing
Genuine blood of her brave knight!
Look! Look! 'mid the river's silvery sheen
Tululah's Phantom Boat is seen,
While the air vibrates like a quivering lyre,
Touched by the hands of an angel Choir!
Oh, wondrous music soft and low,
Like rippling streamlets' gentle flow!
Oh, pathos laden, heart refrain,
No mortal lips can breathe that strain!
Immortal love! not even death
Can damp thy flame or chill thy breath!
Nay, while eternal ages roll,
'Tis thine to feed the hungry soul
With manna dipped in passion's fire,
True birthright of the heart's desire;
Blest food no mortal lips can take
And fail enrapturing bliss to wake!
Heaven's corner-stone, earth's chief delight.
Tululah's captive soul tonight
Is but living o'er the dream
Thou didst create beside this stream.
Her hapless fate all must deplore,
Self-sacrificed in days of yore;
And, could Tululah live again,
At least one heart would soothe her pain!
The legend may be overdrawn,
Yet 'tis not all a dream!
Nor will you ever say again:
"This is no haunted stream!"
Other eyes beside our own
Have seen the Phantom Boat,
And other ears than ours have heard
That wild, weird? music float!
But, precious little darling,
As I strain thee to my breast,
I am conscious you are weary,
Thus deprived of needful rest.
Let us hasten to thy cottage,
Parting with a lingering kiss;
Little Daisy, then, can slumber
And awake in perfect bliss!
