LOVERS' LEAP

By Mrs. A. P. Jarvis

I pause before I reach the verge And look, with chilling blood, below; Some dread attraction seems to urge Me nearer to the brink to go. The hunting red men used to force The buffalo o'er this frightful steep; They could not check their frantic course; By following herds pressed down they leap, Then lie a bleeding, mangled mass Beside the little stream below. Their red blood stained the waving grass, The brook carnation used to flow. Yet a far more pathetic tale The Pawnees told the pioneer Of dusky maid and stripling pale Who found in death a refuge here. The youth had been a captive long, Yet failed to friendly favor find; He oft was bound with cruel thong, Yet Noma to the lad was kind. She was the chieftain's only child, As gentle as the cooing dove. Pure was this daughter of the wild; The pale-face lad had won her love. Her father, angered at her choice, Had bid'n her wed a chieftain brave; She answered with a trembling voice, "I'd rather lie within my grave." The day before the appointed eve When Wactah was to claim his bride, The maid was seen the camp to leave— The pale-face youth was by her side. She led him to this dangerous place That on the streamlet's glee doth frown; The sunlight, gleaming on her face, Her wild, dark beauty seemed to crown. "Dear youth," exclaimed the dusky maid, "I've brought thee here thy faith to prove: If thou of death art not afraid, We'll sacrifice our lives to love." Hand linked in hand they looked below, Then, headlong, plunged adown the steep. The Pawnees from that hour of woe Have named the place The Lovers' Leap.