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 |  |
XVI
The maiden stopped and gazed about her,
As undecided how to act.
How could she give her foe to slaughter
Unless she reached the cataract?
But soon a guileful thought befriended—
A shift of Indian stratagem;
Her ready paddle she extended,
And up the river turned her stem.
No doubt she hoped to see him wrestle
In vain against the torrent's sweep,
And founder like an iron pestle,
Or take alone the awful leap.
Away she flitted up the crystal
Descent of ripples, glinting by;
In vain our hero leveled pistol
And sent a warning bullet nigh.
As undecided how to act.
70
Unless she reached the cataract?
But soon a guileful thought befriended—
A shift of Indian stratagem;
Her ready paddle she extended,
And up the river turned her stem.
No doubt she hoped to see him wrestle
In vain against the torrent's sweep,
And founder like an iron pestle,
Or take alone the awful leap.
Away she flitted up the crystal
Descent of ripples, glinting by;
In vain our hero leveled pistol
And sent a warning bullet nigh.
He saw her 'scape; in vain he followed,
Or strove to follow, where she hied;
His clumsy float of timbers wallowed
And slowly slipped adown the tide.
Afar he saw the witch skedaddle
Through shade and moonlight intertwined,
And cursed the deftness of her paddle,
And cursed the cunning of her kind.
All night he fought with demon billows,
And only when the morn arose,
He reached a verdant bank of willows,
And dumbly dropped, and found repose.
Or strove to follow, where she hied;
His clumsy float of timbers wallowed
And slowly slipped adown the tide.
Afar he saw the witch skedaddle
Through shade and moonlight intertwined,
And cursed the deftness of her paddle,
And cursed the cunning of her kind.
All night he fought with demon billows,
And only when the morn arose,
He reached a verdant bank of willows,
And dumbly dropped, and found repose.
An hour he slumbered; so he reckoned;
And then, ashamed of sluggard rest,
Arose to speed where duty beckoned
Athwart the everlasting West.
And then, ashamed of sluggard rest,
Arose to speed where duty beckoned
Athwart the everlasting West.
| The Downing legends : Stories in Rhyme | |