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a broad river of the western wilds, Piercing thick forest glooms, a light canoe Swept with the current: fearful was the speed Of the frail bark, as by a tempest's wing Borne leaf-like on to where the mist of spray Rose with the cataract's thunder.—Yet within, Proudly, and dauntlessly, and all alone, Save that a babe lay sleeping at her breast, A woman stood: upon her Indian brow