The Downing legends : Stories in Rhyme The witch of Shiloh, the last of the Wampanoags, the gentle earl, the enchanted voyage |
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 | The Downing legends : Stories in Rhyme |  |
XII
He held a letter even now
Beneath his eyes and bended brow
When suddenly arose the keen
Crack of a Mingo carabine;
And, glancing down a sidelong rift,
He spied a maiden riding swift
While close behind her lightly ran
A leather-garbed and painted man.
Beneath his eyes and bended brow
When suddenly arose the keen
Crack of a Mingo carabine;
And, glancing down a sidelong rift,
He spied a maiden riding swift
While close behind her lightly ran
A leather-garbed and painted man.
In vain she rode; the cunning shot
Had deftly sought a vital spot.
He saw the courser plunge and die;
He saw the maiden rise and fly;
He saw the Mingo's gleaming knife,
And spurred amain to save a life.
He won; he tore the maid from death;
He reached her while she stopped for breath
And turned with horror-stricken glance
To face the wolfish foe's advance.
He fiercely wheeled his fiery bay,
And drove the savage from his prey.
Had deftly sought a vital spot.
He saw the courser plunge and die;
He saw the maiden rise and fly;
He saw the Mingo's gleaming knife,
And spurred amain to save a life.
He won; he tore the maid from death;
He reached her while she stopped for breath
And turned with horror-stricken glance
To face the wolfish foe's advance.
He fiercely wheeled his fiery bay,
And drove the savage from his prey.
She seemed a maid of twenty years;
Her eyes were azure through her tears;
Her countenance was passing fair,
Despite the pallor of despair;
Her golden locks had broken free,
And she was gold from crown to knee,
A creature beautiful to see.
Her eyes were azure through her tears;
Her countenance was passing fair,
Despite the pallor of despair;
132
And she was gold from crown to knee,
A creature beautiful to see.
| The Downing legends : Stories in Rhyme | |