The Council heard and thus decreed:
"Our land from paleface dogs be freed.
Tomorrow night the proud paleface
Shall rue Caucanoe's late disgrace!"
"'Tis well," the haughty chief replied;
"Who scorns to be Caucanoe's bride
Shall feel a living flame of fire
Quench the last spark of life's desire!"
But, ere the morrow's sun had set,
Awakening love brought deep regret.
Love fought the savage till he fell,
And Pity's tears began to well.
He crept the cabin light within,
And there confessed his double sin.
"'Tis done," he cried, "you shall not die;
The boat is ready; up, and fly!
"Saluda's stream shall guide you right,
Caucanoe lays to die tonight!
Once you are free, I die content.
Nor deem the blow untimely sent."
The boat has left the silent shore,
And Hayward tugs at the muffled oar;
The craft sweeps on, like a thing of life,
Impelled by the prayers of a weeping wife.
Caucanoe stood on the bank hard by,
With heaving breast and tear-dimmed eye,
That proved a hero's soul could rest
In the natural dome of a savage breast.
The flashing oars in the moonlight pale
Give forth no sound and leave no trail;
Naught is heard save the breath
Of the fleeing ones in their race with death.
Hark! What means that frightful yell?
'Tis a cry of triumph, born of hell;
Their savage foe, long under way,
At last have seen their wanted prey.
They see the foe and wildly fly
The flashing oars, till they almost fly;
"We'll yet be saved," brave Hayward spoke,
But his oars shivered beneath his stroke.