On the shore of Ro-a-no-ak Chi-co sent his boat with vigor. Lithe and happy she sprang shoreward, When,--from where her foot first lightly Pressed the sand with human imprint,-- On--away--towards the thicket, Sprang _a White Doe_, fleet and graceful. His revenge thus wrought in safety, Drifting seaward Chi-co chanted: "Go, White Doe, hide in the forest, Feed upon the sweet wild-grasses; No winged arrow e'er shall harm you, No Red Hunter e'er shall win you; Roam forever, fleet and fearless, Living free and yet in fetters." O fair maiden! born and nurtured 'Neath the shadow of disaster! Isle of Fate was Ro-a-no-ak, In the Land-of-Wind-and-Water. Nevermore to fill with gladness The sad heart of stricken mother; Nevermore to hear the wooing Of the brave and true O-kis-ko. Gone thy charm of youthful beauty, Gone thy sway o'er savage natures; Doomed to flee before the hunter, Doomed to roam the lonely island, Doomed to bondage e'en in freedom. Is the seal of doom eternal? Hath the mussel-pearl all power? Cannot _love_ thy fetters loosen? [Illustration] FOOTNOTES: [Footnote W: Governor White, of the lost colony.] [Footnote X: See Appendix, Note _n_.] [Footnote Y: See Appendix, Note _o_.] IV THE COUNTER-CHARM Man-te-o and all his warriors Long and far sought for Wi-no-na; Sought to find the sky-eyed maiden Sent by Man-to-ac, the Mighty, To the Cro-a-to-ans to bless them, And to make them wise and happy. As a being more than mortal, As a deity they held her; And when no more seen among them Lamentations filled the island. Through Wo-ko-kon's sandy stretches, Through the bog-lands of Po-mou-ik, Even unto Das-a-mon-que-peu, Hunted they the missing maiden; If perchance some other nation, Envious of their peace and plenty, Had the maiden boldly captured, For themselves to win her power. Louder grew their lamentations When they found no trail to follow; Wilder grew their threats of vengeance 'Gainst the tribe which held her captive. While they wailed the Pale-Face Mother, She who once was brave for love's sake, Weak from hardships new and wearing, Utterly bereft of kindred, Her heart's comfort thus torn from her, Died beneath her weight of sorrow. And a pity, soft and human, Though he knew no name to call it, Thrilled the Red Man as he laid her 'Neath the forest leaves to slumber. But the wary, wily Chi-co Told his secret unto no one, While he listened to the stories, Strange and true, told by the hunters Of a fleet and graceful White Doe On the banks of Ro-a-no-ak. And the hunters said, no arrow Howsoever aimed could reach her; Said the deer herd round her gathered, And where e'er she led they followed.