The feast was o’er, the guests were gone,
Soon came the tranquil evening on,
The bright moon rose above the trees,
Soft blew the cooling summer breeze,
And forth to enjoy the tranquil hour
The sisters sought their greenwood bower.
Sweet wild-flowers grew around their seat,
A fountain sparkled at their feet,
On whose bright bosom trembling lay
The dark tree-top and moon’s pale ray.
Young Matachanna’s eye shone bright
With joy at all this lovely sight,
But when on Metoka’s sweet face
The moonbeam found a resting-place,
It met a look of sadness there,
That told her heart was press’d with care.
‘Dear Metoka,’ her sister said,
‘A tear is in your eye;
‘Why are you sad when I am glad?
‘Dear sister, tell me why.
‘And when I smile and kiss your cheek,
‘You answer with a sigh;
‘There is a trembling in your voice;
‘Dear sister, tell me why.’