And where and what was "Cro-a-tàn"?
But not an answer came;
And none of all who read it there
Had ever heard the name.
The Governor drew his jerkin sleeve
Across his misty eyes;
"Some land, maybe, of savagery
Beyond the coast that lies;
"And skulking there the wily foe
In ambush may have lain:
God's mercy! Could such sweetest heads
Lie scalped among the slain?
"O daughter! daughter! with the thought
My harrowed brain is wild!
Up with the anchors! I must find
The mother and the child!"
They scoured the mainland near and far:
The search no tidings brought;
Till mid a forest's dusky tribe
They heard the name they sought.
The kindly natives came with gifts
Of corn and slaughtered deer;
What room for savage treachery
Or foul suspicion here?
Unhindered of a chief or brave,
They searched the wigwam through;
But neither lance nor helm nor spear,
Nor shred of child's nor woman's gear,
Could furnish forth a clue.
How could a hundred souls be caught
Straight out of life, nor find
Device through which to mark their fate,
Or leave some hint behind?
Had winter's ocean inland rolled
An eagre's deadly spray,
That overwhelmed the island's breadth
And swept them all away?
In vain, in vain, their heart-sick search!
No tidings reached them more;
No record save that silent word
Upon that silent shore.