This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1829 edition. Excerpt: ...fern-bush, dark, and low. Rathmond had truly bent his bow, And Montonoc, with steady eye, From 'mid the oak's arms broad and high, Took aim as sure; his arrows sped, And many a bloody foe is dead! Wide tumult spreads!--afar they fly, Each rust'ling brake, which meets the eye, Seems shrouding still some warrior ...
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This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1829 edition. Excerpt: ...fern-bush, dark, and low. Rathmond had truly bent his bow, And Montonoc, with steady eye, From 'mid the oak's arms broad and high, Took aim as sure; his arrows sped, And many a bloody foe is dead! Wide tumult spreads!--afar they fly, Each rust'ling brake, which meets the eye, Seems shrouding still some warrior there. With bloody brand and eye of fire. Slow dropping from his safe retreat, The prophet glides to Rathmond's seat: Then raised loud yells of various tone, Such as are given at victory won, And Rathmond joined, till long and high. Rang the loud chorus to the sky! Hark! o'er the rocks, the shrieks are answered wild, Can it be Echo, Nature's darling child? No--'tis a whoop of horror and despair, Which knows no sympathy, which sheds no tear! Lo! on yon cliff, which frowns above the wave, Mark the stern warriors hovering o'er their grave! 'Tis done: the sullen bosom of the bay Opens and closes o'er its sinking prey! One hollow splashing, as the waters part, Sad welcome of the victim to his bed, One mournful, shuddering echo, and the heart Turns, chilled, at length, from scenes of death and dread! But ah! like some sad spectre lingering near, A form still hovers o'er the scene of wo;--Does it await its hour of vengeance here, Watching the cold forms weltering below? The morn was dawning slowly in the east, A few faint gleams of light were bursting through, When the dread warriors sought the lake'scalm breast, And sullen sunk amid its waters blue! That rude, wild phantom hovering there, Poised on the precipice mid-way in air, Like some stern spirit of the dead, Rising indignant from its bed, Was Ompahaw! alone, he stood, Gazing on Heaven, on hill, and wood! His eye was wilder than the eagle's glare; Its glance was triumph mingled with despair!...
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