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Her White Bosom Bare |
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Were uplifted in prayer; And her dark waving tresses In ringlets did flow Which hid from the gazer A bosom of snow.
Then young Albon, the chief Of the warriors, drew near, With an eye like an eagle And a step like a deer.
" Forbear," cried he,
" Your torture forbear; This maiden shall live. By my wampum I swear.
11 It is for this maiden's freedom That I do crave; Give a sigh for her suffering Or a tear for her grave. If there is a victim To be burned at that tree, Young Albon, your leader, That victim shall be."
Then quick to the arms Of Amanda he rushed; The rebel was dead, And the tumult was hushed; And grim stood the circle Of warriors around 273 |
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