Janet Mcrea.

She heard the fight was over, And won the wrath of fame! When tidings from her lover, With his good war-steed came: To guard her safely to his tent, The red-men of the woods were sent. They led her where sweet waters gush! Under the pine-tree bough! The tomahawk is raised to crush-- 'Tis buried in her brow!-- She sleeps beneath that pine-tree now! Her broken-hearted lover In hopeless conflict died! The forest-leaves now cover That soldier and his bride! The frown of the Great Spirit fell Upon the red-men like a spell! No more those waters slake their thirst, Shadeless to them that tree! O'er land and lake they roam accurst, And in the clouds they see Thy spirit, unavenged, McRea!