Behind her came one, sweeping on in the chase,
Whose grasp was more dreaded than death's cold embrace.

Then she called on the spirits who watch round the brave,
In peril to nerve, to assist and to save,
Closed calmly her eyes, as one sinking in sleep,
And urged her proud steed to the terrible leap!

A moment it paused on the high precipice,
Then sprang, boldly sprang, o'er the frightful abyss!
And struck its firm hoof in the rock till the sound
Shook the hills, and the sparks flew like lightning around!

And the foot-print it left has remained to this day,
And no rain-flood or tempest shall wear it away;
She was saved--the brave Emma was saved--but her crown,
From her fair brow unloosed, in the whirlpool sank down.

On, on came the chief, in his fierceness and wrath,
Nor saw he the wide gulf that yawned in his path,--
And soon, in the depths of its fathomless tide,
The warrior and war-steed were laid side by side.

And the mountaineer tells how in sullen despair,
His ghost, imannealed of its sins, lingers there;
Ever watching, pale, silent, untiring, unmoved,
The bright golden crown of the maiden he loved.

A diver once, lured by the wealth of the prize,
Sought out the deep cave where it lay, and still lies,