And, O! what havoc there!—what horrors grim!

The old man lay in gore!—his daughter gone!

His lodge in ashes! But the dewy lawn

LV.

“Showed prints of hostile feet. Waban is true—

He followed on the trail—a devious route;

Far up the winding stream the morning dew

Betrayed their steps, and hers with theirs; here out

They turned—leaping from rock to rock, they drew

Still onward far, until a thrilling shout,