"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, 'Twere vain her woe to tell; When came the morrow's long embrace, And quivering, low farewell. * * * * * Popmonet's daughter was the maid, A princess' rank she bore; And many a rival chieftain laid His offering at her door. But all in vain--for she had seen The stranger as he lay With fever in his throbbing veins-- And nursed him day by day. Health came, and love--but woe if he Who sought her for his own, The Marshpee chief, her secret know, By word, or look, or tone. * * * * * The night is dark, the storm is fierce, But darker, fiercer still The whirlwind passions in the soul Of scorned Auketauquil. For sad, apart, Lueka sits, Her heart's-eyes gaze afar; The young chief's words, his very smiles Upon her spirits jar. The golden cross, but half concealed, To him her secret told; The while she murmurs, "he will come Before this moon is old. "The corn is golden in the sheaf, With silken tassels drest; I've seen the shining summer rise, And now 'tis in the west." But summer set, and winter came, And spring, with blossoms gay; Then hope died in Lueka's heart, For he was still away. She drooped and faded day by day, And when the autumn hours Came round again with yellow leaves, She'd perished with the flowers. Popmonet bowed his aged head In sorrow--with a moan; "The leaves from the lone tree are swept, I stand alone--alone!" Auketauquil approaches near, With brow and footstep grave; The hated cross gleams on her breast, He hurls it in the wave. "Curses," he cried, "upon the lips That lured away my bird! Curse him! would of his hated race Lueka'd never heard! "Great Spirit, curse him! for he stole The ring-dove from my breast; Poor wounded thing--how cold it lies; I would have been its nest!" A lovely island in the lake Popmonet's child received; Her people bore her gently there, And e'en the sternest grieved. Anear her placed they food and drink, And trinkets that she wore, To cheer her on the lonely voyage Unto the spirit shore. They laid her where the sweet-fern grew, With lilies in her hand; Then loosed a bird above her grave,[6] And sang thus by the strand.-- Speed on to the beautiful land afar, Where the soul of our sister's a new made star; With kisses, embraces, thy wings are laden, Soar high to the home of the absent maiden, Away! away!