And when each of these brave men Had built himself a lodge, And each had a bird in his nest, And each had a babe at his knee, Their hate had no abatement known, Still each was his brother's enemy. And thirsted for his blood. And when those babes had grown, The one to be a man In stature, years, and soul, With a warrior's eye and brow, And his poll a shaven poll[I], And his step as a wild colt's free, And his voice like the winter wind, Or the roaring of the sea; The other a maiden ripe, With a woman's tender heart, Full of soft and gentle wishes, Sighs by day and dreams by night, Their hostile fathers bade them roam Together no more o'er the rocky dell, And through the woody hollow, And by the river brink, And o'er the winter snows, Nor sit for hours by the summer rill, To watch the stag as he came to drink, And to see the beaver wallow, Nor when the waters froze, Have a pleasant sport to follow, O'er the smooth ice; they bade them shun, Each other as the stars the sun.
What did they then--this youth and maid? Did they their fathers mind?-- I will tell my brother.-- They met--in secret met'Twas not in the rocky dell, Nor in the woody hollow, Nor by the river brink, Nor o'er the winter snows, Nor by the summer rill, Watching the stag as he came to drink, And to see the beaver wallow, That these two lovers met, Nor when the waters froze, Giving good sport to follow: But, when the sky was mild, And the moon's pale light was veil'd, And hushed was every breeze, In prairie, village, and wild, And the bittern had stayed his toot, And the serpent had ceased his hiss, And the wolf forgot his howl, And the owl forbore his hoot, And the plaintive wekolis[J], And his neighbour, the frog, were mute-- Then would my brother have heard A plash like the dip of a water-fowl, In the lake with mist so white, And the smooth wave roll to the bank, And have seen the current stirr'd By something that seemed a White Canoe, Gliding past his troubled view.
And thus for moons they met By night on the tranquil lake, When darkness veils the earth; Nought care they for the wolf, That stirs the brake on the bank; Nought that the junipers shake With the weight of the nimble bear, Nor that bitterns start by tens, Nor to hear the cayman's plash, Nor the hoot of the owl in the boughs of the ash, Where he sat so calm and cool: And thus each night they met, And thus a summer pass'd.