‘Listen, ye Mohawk warriors, which sail on Death’s dark tide!
Never shall earth grave hold you, or wife weep o’er your clay.
Come to your doom, ye Mohawks, and I will lead the way.’
* * * * *
“And many a day thereafter, beyond the torrent’s roar,
The swarthy Mohawk dead were found along the river’s shore.
But on brave Malabeam’s dead face no human eyes were set—
She lies in the dark stream’s embrace, the river claims her yet.
“The waters of five hundred years have flowed above her grave,
But daring deeds can never die while human hearts are brave.