“Thou knowest,” he sternly said, “that ne’er An insult I forgive; Nor does there breathe a man who dares Provoke my rage and live. “This night my foeman I surprised, His fresh torn scalp I bear, His blood the signal of my tribe Upon my brow I wear. “Even now, around his smoking home My warriors watch the fire, That home was thine, Ompoia, once That foeman was thy Sire. “Nay, shrink not from me thus, my love, I must revenge my wrongs, Else I should lose in war my fame In death my funeral songs. “Now thou’rt the last of all thy race And thou must fly with me. No other home but these fond arms Is left this night for thee. “Nay, curse me not, my father’s shade Blest me from yonder cloud, I knew his locks, his blood red eye I knew his gesture proud. “Next to the taste of foeman’s blood Is thy affection dear Then fly with me, Ompoia love And do not linger here. “Nootonuc, in this little hour I’ve lived an elder’s age, So many feelings in my heart Of grief revenge and rage— “Oh, dear to me, was my loved home, And dear to me my Sire, Gentle to me, yet stern to all That raised his bloody ire. “But dearer still wast thou to me, Thou wast my only love, But with that blood mark on thy brow With thee I cannot rove. “Nootonuc, no, my father’s shade Forbids it from the grave I’ll seek my death-bed yonder first Beneath the glassy wave,” She said, when on the hill above A Warrior’s form appear’d And with a bound the low shrubs there That closed them in he clear’d. “I’ve found thee, then, my bloody foe,” Ompoia’s brother said— And sent with strong and certain aim His tomahawk at his head— With rapid step Ompoia sprung Before the coming death, The weapon stretch’d her on the ground Her lover’s feet beneath. ’Twas but a moment’s pause, when quick As the red lightning’s blow, Nootonuc’s weapon left its sheath And laid the warrior low— He staid but to crush him in the sand, Staid but his scalp to tear, When to Ompoia’s side he sprung, But death was reigning there.