If like your kinswoman of old,
If like that star of maidens, Pocahontas,
You found me, O my beloved, near to death,
Found me with my head laid on the stones, and the brute war-clubs raised above me,
Then, Golden Bird, I know that, never faltering, never trembling
You, too, O Star of Maidens,
Would take my head into your arms and lay your lovely head on mine,
And save me from great death in the dark moment.