"For you, fond lovers, length of days
I prophesy, and happy times.
Your lives shall run like merry rhymes
Through many years of full content,
And when at last your course is spent,
Your children shall revere your name,
Your children's children—" Flashed a flame,
A lightning blast, athwart their eyes,
And death assailed them in the guise
Of Iroquois, the Hurons' dread—