They showed us, near the outlet of Sebago, the Lover's Rock, from which an Indian maid threw herself down into the lake, when the guests were coming together to the marriage festival of her false-hearted lover. - Leaf from a Traveller's Journal. Written ca. 1825
There is a love that cannot die! - And some their doom have met Heart-broken - and gone as stars go by, That rise, and burn, and set. Their days were in Spring's fallen leaf- Tender - and young - and bright - and brief. There is a love that cannot die! - Aye - it survives the grave; When life goes out with many a sigh, And earth takes what it gave, Its light is on the home of those That heed not when the cold wind blows. With us there are sad records left Of life's declining day: How true hearts here were broken and cleft, And how they passed away. And yon dark rock that swells above Its blue lake - has a tale of love. 'T is of an Indian maid, whose fate Was saddened by the burst Of passion, that made desolate The heart it filled at first. Her lover was false-hearted, - yet Her love she never could forget. It was a summer-day, and bright The sun was going down: The wave lay blushing in rich light Beneath the dark rock's frown, And under the green maple's shade Her lover's bridal feast was made. She stood upon the rocky steep, Grief had her heart unstrung, And far across the lake's blue sweep Was heard the dirge she sung. It ceased - and in the deep cold wave The Indian Girl has made her grave.
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