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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=510012" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Tryst Of The Sachem’s Daughter</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">In the far green depths of the forest glade,<br>Where the hunter’s footsteps but rarely strayed,<br>Was a darksome dell, possessed, ’twas said,<br>By an evil spirit, dark and dread,<br>Whose weird voice spoke in the whisperings low<br>Of that haunted wood, and the torrent’s flow. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">There an Indian girl sat silent, lone,<br>From her lips came no plaint or stifled moan,<br>But the seal of anguish, hopeless and wild,<br>Was stamped on the brow of the forest child,<br>And her breast was laden with anxious fears,<br>And her dark eyes heavy with unshed tears. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Ah! a few months since, when the soft spring gales<br>With fragrance were filling the forest dales;<br>When sunshine had chased stern winter’s gloom,<br>And woods had awoke in their new-born bloom,<br>No step had been lighter on upland or hill<br>Than her’s who sat there so weary and still. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Now, the silken ears of the tasseled maize<br>Had ripened beneath the sun’s fierce blaze,<br>And the summer’s sunshine, warm and bright,<br>Had been followed by autumn’s amber light,<br>While the trees robed in glowing gold and red,<br>Their fast falling leaves thickly round her shed. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">A Sachem’s daughter, beloved and revered,<br>To the honest hearts of her tribe endeared<br>By her goodness rare and her lovely face,<br>Her innocent mirth and her artless grace;<br>Wooed oft by young Indian braves as their bride,<br>Sought by stern-browed chiefs for their wigwam’s pride. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Heart-free, unwon, she had turned from each prayer,<br>And thought but of smoothing her raven hair;<br>Of embroidering moccasins, dainty, neat,<br>With quills and gay beads for her tiny feet;<br>Or skilfully guiding her bark canoe<br>O’er St. Lawrence’s waves of sparkling blue. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Alas for the hour, when in woodlands wild<br>The white man met with the Sachem’s child,<br>And she wondering gazed on his golden hair,<br>His deep blue eyes, and his forehead fair,<br>And his rich soft voice fell low on her ear,<br>And became to her heart, alas! too dear. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Well trained was he in each courtly art<br>That can please and win a woman’s heart;<br>And many a girl of lineage high<br>Had looked on his wooing with fav’ring eye:<br>Inconstant to all, in hall or in bower,<br>What chance of escape had this forest flower? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Soon, ah! very soon, he tired of her smile,<br>Her dusky charms and each sweet, shy wile;<br>And yet it was long ere, poor trusting dove,<br>Her faith was shaken in the white man’s love;<br>And now one last tryst she had asked of him<br>In this haunted glade in the forest dim. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">He had lightly vowed, as such men will do,<br>To the place and hour that he would be true;<br>She had waited since the dawn broke chill,<br>Till the sun was setting behind the hill;<br>But for him, amid scenes of fashion gay,<br>All thought of his promise had passed away. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">“I will wait for him here,” she softly said,<br>“Yes, wait till he comes,” and her weary head<br>Drooped low on her breast, and when the night,<br>On noiseless pinions had taken its flight,<br>She looked at the sunrise, with eyes grown dim,<br>And murmured: “I’ll wait here for death or him.” </div><div style="margin:10px 0">It was death that came, and with kindly touch<br>He stilled the heart that had borne so much;<br>To the Manitou praying, she passed away<br>With the sunset clouds of another day,—<br>No anger quickened her failing breath,<br>Patient, unmurmuring, even in death. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">For days they sought her, the sons of her race,<br>In deep far-off woods, in each secret place,<br>Till at length to the haunted glade they crept,<br>And found her there as in death she slept.<br>They whispered low of the spirit of ill,<br>And buried her quickly beside the hill. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">That year her false lover back with him bore<br>A radiant bride to his native shore.<br>And, with smiling triumph and joy elate,<br>Ne’er gave one thought to his dark love’s fate;<br>But an All-seeing Judge, in wrath arrayed,<br>Shall avenge the wrongs of that Indian maid.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Rosanna+Eleanor+Leprohon">Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=510012" data-title="The Tryst Of The Sachem’s Daughter de Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon" data-description="In the far green depths of the forest glade,
Where the hunter’s footsteps but rarely strayed,
Was a darksome dell, possessed, ’twas said,
By an evil spirit, dark and dread,
Whose weird voice spoke in the whisperings low
Of that haunted wood, a..."></div>
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