Chapter III

John Lewis, thy vaunt shall be tested,
John Lewis, thy boast shall be tried;
Two maidens are with thee for shelter,
The wife of thy youth by thy side;
And thy foemen pour down like a river
When spring-rains have swollen its tide.

They come from the depths of the forest,
They scatter in rage through the dell,
Five score, led by young Kiskepila,
And leap to their work with a yell,
Like the shrieks of an army of demons
Let loose from their prison in hell.

Oh, then there were shrieking and wailing,
And praying for mercy in vain;
Through the skulls of the hapless and helpless
The hatchet sank in to the brain;
And the slayers tore, fastly and fiercely,
The scalps from the heads of the slain.

By the ruthless and blood-thirsty Mingos
Encompassed on every side,
Cut off from escape to the block-house,
No way from pursuers to hide,
With a prayer to the Father Almighty,
Unresisting, the innocents died.

John Lewis, in torture of spirit,
Beheld them ply hatchet and knife,
And said, “Were I younger and stronger,
And fit as of yore for the strife!
Oh, had I from now until sunset
The vigor of earlier life!”