“His eye is like the eagle’s ken, His arrow like his flight: And he has sworn to take thy life, Oh! haste with morning’s light.” “I will not fly the face of man Until I fly with thee; Oh! haste Ompoia to my boat And cross the lake with me— “Seest thou that mountain top so blue Athwart the eastern sky? Beyond that hill I’ll bear thee, love, Where all my warriors lie”— “I cannot fly” Ompoia said, “I will not with thee roam, Until the deadly feud is hushed I cannot leave my home— “My father’s anger fierce would burn, Thou art his deadliest foe; And not until that hate be past With thee I will not go”— “Your father’s haughty threats are vain, Him and his tribe I dare; For they will ne’er Nootonuc quail Nor drive him to despair. “Upon the Sheppaug’s turbid stream A hundred warriors lie, And ready to my whistle, they Would to my succour fly— “I do not fear his eagle eye Or arrow’s swiftest course, My heart can bear that eye’s proud glance, My breast that arrow’s force. “But see, the broad lake glows in light, For me my warriors stay! Say, will you meet at evening hour, I’ve many words to say.” Ompoia said, “Thou knowest, my love, On the southeastern shore An island lies in gentle slope With plane trees covered o’er.” “’Tis there when mid the evening shade The moon rolls bright above I’ll meet thee on the eastern beach, Till then, farewell, my love,” She said. A single bound’s enough Nootonuc’s boat to gain; One stroke of his strong oar sufficed To drive him from the main. One stroke he gave, when from the wood An arrow cut the sky, Tho’ spent its strength, it struck beneath The warrior’s sable eye. Nootonuc’s red brow flashed with rage “Yes, ’twas thine,” he cried; “For this, ’ere night my spear shall drink Thy red blood’s warmest tide. “Not even Ompoia’s lovely form Shall save thee from my ire, Tho’ she should closely round thee cling I’d drag thee to the fire.” The lake now foam’d beneath his oar A track of living light; ’Twas like the life a hero leads, As transient, as ’twas bright.