To each pearl had Chi-co chanted, Each had bathed in mystic water, Each held fast the same weird power, Till the time grew ripe for evil. On the waves they could not harm her, There the Sea-King ruled them ever; But when on the shore she landed They would work their evil mission.
On the shore of Ro-a-no-ak Chi-co sent his boat with vigor. Lithe and happy she sprang shoreward, When,--from where her foot first lightly Pressed the sand with human imprint,-- On--away--towards the thicket, Sprang _a White Doe_, fleet and graceful.
His revenge thus wrought in safety, Drifting seaward Chi-co chanted: "Go, White Doe, hide in the forest, Feed upon the sweet wild-grasses; No winged arrow e'er shall harm you, No Red Hunter e'er shall win you; Roam forever, fleet and fearless, Living free and yet in fetters."
O fair maiden! born and nurtured 'Neath the shadow of disaster! Isle of Fate was Ro-a-no-ak, In the Land-of-Wind-and-Water. Nevermore to fill with gladness The sad heart of stricken mother; Nevermore to hear the wooing Of the brave and true O-kis-ko. Gone thy charm of youthful beauty, Gone thy sway o'er savage natures; Doomed to flee before the hunter, Doomed to roam the lonely island, Doomed to bondage e'en in freedom. Is the seal of doom eternal? Hath the mussel-pearl all power? Cannot _love_ thy fetters loosen?
[Footnote W: Governor White, of the lost colony.]
Man-te-o and all his warriors Long and far sought for Wi-no-na; Sought to find the sky-eyed maiden Sent by Man-to-ac, the Mighty, To the Cro-a-to-ans to bless them, And to make them wise and happy. As a being more than mortal, As a deity they held her; And when no more seen among them Lamentations filled the island. Through Wo-ko-kon's sandy stretches, Through the bog-lands of Po-mou-ik, Even unto Das-a-mon-que-peu, Hunted they the missing maiden; If perchance some other nation, Envious of their peace and plenty, Had the maiden boldly captured, For themselves to win her power. Louder grew their lamentations When they found no trail to follow; Wilder grew their threats of vengeance 'Gainst the tribe which held her captive.
While they wailed the Pale-Face Mother, She who once was brave for love's sake, Weak from hardships new and wearing, Utterly bereft of kindred, Her heart's comfort thus torn from her, Died beneath her weight of sorrow. And a pity, soft and human, Though he knew no name to call it, Thrilled the Red Man as he laid her 'Neath the forest leaves to slumber.