y
half the bliss which will be thine--mine--ours--if thou darest to
die.'

"She ceased speaking, but my pleased ears remained listening long
after her gentle voice had died away. And the delighted breeze softly
returned from the calm and transparent waters, and the spirit of the
echo gently repeated from the neighbouring hills, 'Unlike the maidens
of the earth, my charms can never fade; never like theirs can my love
be turned into hatred, or my heart grow cold, or my eyes cease to
regard the beloved object with favour. Loving on through all changes,
and loving on _for ever_, thy mind cannot fancy half the bliss which
will be thine--mine--ours--if thou darest to die.

'Come to me, lover, come!
I'll wait thy death,
In the evening's breath,
On the brow of the mountain,
That shadows the fountain,
Come, my lover, come!

'Come to me, lover, come!
Again will I wear
Bright gold in my hair,
And my eyes shall be bright
As the beam of light.
Come, my lover, come!

'Come quick, my lover, come!
And thou shall be prest
To a faithful breast,
And thou shalt be led
To a bridal bed.
Mishikinakwa, come!'

"Thus called to the shades of happiness by so bright, and beautiful,
and beloved, a being, how can I remain on the earth? Since that moment
I have wished much to die; every day have I asked the Master of Life
to take from me the breath he has given, and permit me to go to the
land that holds the spirit of my affianced wife. I loathe the vile
chain which binds me from her; I hate all the things I see, for they
are all less beautiful than she; and all sounds pain mine ear, for is
it not filled with her voice, a hundred times sweeter than aught ever
heard on earth? Ha! her voice again! She calls me to her arms! She
bids me come and drink of the crystal streams in the land of souls;
she bids me come and chase with her the fawn and the kid, to bring her
berries from the hills, and flowers from the vales, and to brush with
our mingled footsteps, in early morning, the dew from the glades, and
to blend in early evening the music of our lips, and the breath of our
sighs, by the sides of the grass-wrapt fountain. She bids me come, and
be clasped to a faithful breast, and called to a bridal bed. I come,
beautiful spirit, to the appointed spot,

To the brow of the mountain,
That shadows the fountain.

Put then the bright gold in thy rolling locks, and