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An Indian Legend
A LADY stands beside the silver lake. | |
| “What,” said the Mohawk, “wouldst thou have me do?” | |
| “Across the water, sir, be pleased to take | |
| Me and my children in thy bark canoe.” | |
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| “Ah!” said the Chief, “thou knowest not, I think, | 5 |
| The legend of the lake,—hast ever heard | |
| That in its wave the stoutest boat will sink, | |
| If any passenger shall speak a word?” | |
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| “Full well we know the Indian’s strange belief,” | |
| The lady answered, with a civil smile; | 10 |
| “But take us o’er the water, mighty Chief; | |
| In rigid silence we will sit the while.” | |
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| Thus they embarked, but ere the little boat | |
| Was half across the lake, the woman gave | |
| Her tongue its wonted play,—but still they float, | 15 |
| And pass in safety o’er the utmost wave! | |
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| Safe on the shore, the warrior looked amazed, | |
| Despite the stoic calmness of his race; | |
| No word he spoke, but long the Indian gazed | |
| In moody silence in the woman’s face. | 20 |
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| “What think you now?” the lady gayly said; | |
| “Safely to land your frail canoe is brought! | |
| No harm, you see, has touched a single head! | |
| So superstition ever comes to naught!” | |
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| Smiling, the Mohawk said, “Our safety shows | 25 |
| That God is merciful to old and young; | |
| Thanks unto the Great Spirit!—well he knows | |
| The pale-faced woman cannot hold her tongue!” | |
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