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.