Upon the golden grain.
"I swear, Lueka, by the stars,
And by this cross of gold,
'Ere red the berries of the thorn
My Indian bride I'll fold.
"In token, chain and cross of gold
I hang upon thy breast;
And let it whisper, 'He will come
When summer's in the west.'"
'Twere vain Lueka's fears to paint,