HOW
THE MOHAWKS SET OUT FOR MEDOCTEC
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[When
the invading Mohawks captured the outlying Melicite
village of Madawaska, they spared two squaws
to guide them down stream to the main Melicite
town of Medoctec, below Grand Falls. The squaws
steered themselves and their captors over the
Falls.]
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GROWS
the great deed, though none
Shout to behold it done!
To the brave deed done by night
Heaven testifies in the light
Stealthy
and swift as a dream,
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Crowding
the breast of the stream,
In their paint and plumes of war
And their war-canoes four score,
They
are threading the Oolastook,
Where his cradling hills o'erlook.
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The
branchy thickets hide them;
The unstartled waters guide them. |
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II
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Comes
night to the quiet hills
Where the Madawaska spills,—
To his slumbering huts no warning, |
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Nor
mirth of another morning!
No
more shall the children wake
As the dawns through the hut-door break;
But the dogs, a trembling pack,
With wistful eyes steal back.
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And, to pilot the noiseless foe
Through the perilous passes, go
Two women who could not die—
Whom the knife in the dark passed by. |
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III
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| Where
the shoaling waters froth, |
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Churned
thick like devils' broth,—
Where the rocky shark-jaw waits,
Never a bark that grates.
And
the tearless captives' skill
Contents them. Onward still!
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And
the low-voiced captives tell
The tidings that cheer them well:
How
a clear stream leads them down
Well-nigh to Medoctec town,
Ere to the great Falls' thunder
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| The
long wall yawns asunder. |
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IV
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The
clear stream glimmers before them;
The faint night falters o'er them;
Lashed lightly bark to bark,
They glide the windless dark. |
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Late grows the night. No fear
While the skilful captives steer!
Sleeps the tired warrior, sleeps
The chief; and the river creeps. |
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V
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| In the
town of the Melicite |
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The
unjarred peace is sweet,
Green grows the corn and great,
And the hunt is fortunate.
This
many a heedless year
The Mohawks come not near.
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The
lodge-gate stands unbarred;
Scarce even a dog keeps guard.
No
mother shrieks from a dream
Of blood on the threshold stream,—
But the thought of those mute guides |
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| Is where
the sleeper bides! |
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VI
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Gets
forth those caverned walls
No roar from the giant Falls,
Whose mountainous foam treads under
The abyss of awful thunder. |
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But—the river's sudden speed!
How the ghost-grey shores recede!
And the tearless pilots hear
A muttering voice creep near.A tremor!
The
blanched waves leap.
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The
warriors start from sleep.
Faints in the sudden blare
The cry of their swift despair,
And
the captives' death-chant shrills . . .
But afar, remote from ills,
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Quiet
under the quiet skies
The Melicite village lies. |
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