The summer had fled, there linger’d still

A warmth in the clear blue skies;

The flowers were gone, and the night wind’s chill

Had robed the forest and the woody hill

In richest of Autumn dyes.

The battle was fought, and the deadly strife

Had ceased on the Prairie plains;

Each tomahawk -- spear-- and keen-edged knife

Was red with the current of many a life

It bore from severed veins.

The Pawnee followed his victor hand

That sped to their home afar—

The river is passed, and again they stand,

A trophied throng, on their own broad land,

Recounting the deeds of war.

A beautiful captive maid was there,

Bedeck’d as a warrior’s bride—

The glossy braid of her ebon hair,

Interwoven with gems, and adorned with care,

With the jet of the raven vied.

Her beaded robes were skillfully wrought

With shells from the river isles,

The fairest that wash from the ocean, brought

From the sands by a brave young Chief, who sought

The meed of her sweetest smiles.

Beneath the boughs of an ancient oak,

They came to the council ground:

No eloquent tongue for the maiden spoke,

She was quickly doomed, -- and their shouts awoke

The woods to the piercing sound.

And when on her olive cheek, a tear

Stole out her lustrous eye,

A youth from th’ exulting crowd drew near,

And whispered words in her startled war

That told her she was not to die.

They hurried away to the fatal spot,

Deep hid in the forest shade,

And bound her fast; but she murmured not; --

They bared her breast for the rifle shot,

And brow for the scalping blade.

Then forth to the work of death they came,

While the loud death song was heard:

A hunter skilled in the chase, whose aim

Ne’er missed the heart of his mountain game—

He waited the signal word.

One instant more, ere the maid should bleed,

A moment and all were done—

The Pawnee sprang from his noble steed,

Unloosed her hands, and the captive freed—

A moment—and they were gone!

Then swift as the speed of wind, away

To her distant home they hied—

And just at the sunset hour of day,

Ere the evening dew on the meadow lay,

She stood at her father’s side.