A Legend of the Mohawk.

In the days that are gone, by this sweet-flowing water,         Two lovers reclined in the shade of a tree;     She was the mountain-king's rosy-lipped daughter,         The brave warrior-chief of the valley was he.     Then all things around them, below and above,     Were basking as now in the sunshine of love--         In the days that are gone, by this sweet-flowing stream.     In the days that are gone, they were laid 'neath the willow,         The maid in her beauty, the youth in his pride;     Both slain by the foeman who crossed the dark billow,         And stole the broad lands where their children reside;     Whose fathers, when dying, in fear looked above,     And trembled to think of that chief and his love,         In the days that are gone, by this sweet flowing stream.