Nacoochee ; or, the beautiful star, with other Poems | ||
XXIII.
He drew his hatchet—raised his knife—
“Now, paleface! give me back my wife!”
“Now, paleface! give me back my wife!”
133
He clenched his teeth—his lips were parted—
His eyeballs from their sockets darted!
His eyeballs from their sockets darted!
“Halt, warrior! halt!” Naymoyah said,—
Strike, Malavolti! strike him dead!”
Strike, Malavolti! strike him dead!”
“This soul,” said he, “can never die!
And by yon big light in the sky”—
And by yon big light in the sky”—
“Strike, Malavolti! strike!” she said,—
And Malavolti struck him dead!
And Malavolti struck him dead!
Nacoochee ; or, the beautiful star, with other Poems | ||