Abenaki

Noñwat nizwak noñkskwesizak.

Long years ago, two lovely Indian girls Were wont to leave their people every week, Embarking secretly in birch canoe. Their tribe knew neither why nor where they went. One summer’s noon a hunter chanced to stray Close to a well-hid pond in forest deep, Where, puzzled by the sound of plashing spray, He stole behind the alders for a peep. There swam the damsels in abandoned glee, Their hair all streaming with a loathly snake. Then when they felt the hunter’s look of awe Straightway they dived beneath the surface foul. In horror, back the hunter made his way And told the Indians what his eyes had seen. Then, all together left the happy town And struggling through the brush and tangled wood Went straightway to that fearsome pool to save The damsels from a fate too dread to tell. But ah, when they drew near, they heard them sing, All sad and woful in a wailing chant: “No more, no more may we turn back again, For mortal eye hath seen us in our sin.” P.