Hanford Lennox Gordon

“ But the eagle eyes of the Hârpstinà
The clouded face of the warrior saw.
Softly she spoke to the sullen brave:
"Mah-pí-ya Dúta—his face is sad;
And why is the warrior so glum and grave?
For the fair Wiwâstè is gay and glad;
She will sit in the teepee the live-long day,
And laugh with her lover—the brave Hóhè
Does the tall Red Cloud for the false one sigh?
There are fairer maidens than she, and proud
Were their hearts to be loved by the brave Red Cloud.
And trust not the chief with the smiling eyes ”

“ Far away from his beautiful France—from his home in the city of Lyons,
A noble youth full of romance, with a Norman heart big with adventure,
In the new world a wanderer, by chance DuLuth sought the wild Huron forests.
But afar by the vale of the Rhone, the winding and musical river,
And the vine-covered hills of the Saône, the heart of the wanderer lingered,—
'Mid the vineyards and mulberry trees, and the fair fields of corn and of clover
That rippled and waved in the breeze, while the honey-bees hummed in the blossoms. ”

“ From the pine-plumed hills on the north, sloping down to the bay and the lake-side
And behold, at the foot of the hill, a cluster of Chippewa wigwams,
And the busy wives plying with skill their nets in the emerald waters.
Two hundred white winters and more have fled from the face of the Summer
Since DuLuth on that wild, somber shore, in the unbroken forest primeval,
From the midst of the spruce and the pines, saw the smoke of the wigwams up-curling,
Like the fumes from the temples and shrines of the Druids of old in their forests. ”

“ Met some goblin in the forest?
Has he put a spell upon you—
Filled your heart with bitter waters,
That you sit so sad and sullen,
Sit and smoke, but never answer,
Only when the storm is on you?"
Gruffly then the Panther answered:
"Brave among the brave is Panther
Son of Waub-Ojeeg, the warrior,
And the brave are ever silent;
But a whining dog is woman,
Whining ever like a coward."
Forth into the tangled forest,
Threading through the thorny thickets,
Treading trails on marsh and meadow,
Sullen strode the moody hunter.
Saw he not the bear or beaver,
Saw he not the elk or roebuck ”

“ The maples screen the ferns, and lean the leafy lindens o'er the deep;
The sapphire, set in emerald green, lies like an Orient gem asleep.
The crimson west glows like the breast of Rhuddin [CB] when he pipes in May,
As downward droops the sun to rest, and shadows gather on the bay.
In amber sky the swallows fly and sail and circle o'er the deep;
The light-winged night-hawks whir and cry; the silver pike and salmon leap.
The rising moon, o'er isle and dune, looks laughing down on lake and lea;
Weird o'er the waters shrills the loon; the high stars twinkle in the sea. ”

“ From the distant Thunder-mountain
On the shore of Gitchee Gumee,
On the rugged northern border,
Sent his solemn, final warning,
Sent the white wolves of the Nor'land. [14]
Like the dust of stars in ether—
In the Pathway of the Spirits, [15]
Like the sparkling dust of diamonds,
Fell the frost upon the forest,
On the mountains and the meadows,
On the wilderness of woodland,
On the wilderness of waters.
All the lingering fowls departed—
All that seek the South in winter,
All but Shingebís, the diver; [16]
He defies the Winter-maker,
Sits and laughs at Winter-maker. ”

“ Old and wrinkled was the Sea-Gull,
Good and true, but old and wrinkled.
Twenty winters for the Panther
Had she ruled the humble wigwam,
Borne the burdens on the journey,
Gathered fagots for the lodge-fire,
Tanned the skins of bear and beaver,
Tanned the hides of moose and red-deer,
Made him moccasins and leggins,
Decked his hood with quills and feathers,
Colored quills of Kaug, the thorny,
Feathers from the great war-eagle;
Ever diligent and faithful,
Ever patient, ne'er complaining.
But like all brave men the Panther
Loved a young and handsome woman ”

“ Her will must Winona obey, by the custom and law of Dakotas.
The gifts to the teepee were brought—the blankets and beads of the White men,
And Winona, the orphaned, was bought by the crafty, relentless Tamdóka.
In the Spring-time of life, in the flush of the gladsome mid-May days of Summer,
When the bobolink sang and the thrush, and the red robin chirped in the branches,
To the tent of the brave must she go; she must kindle the fire in his teepee;
She must sit in the lodge of her foe, as a slave at the feet of her master. ”

“ Round their low, smouldering fire, feigning sleep, lie the watchful and wily Dakotas;
But DuLuth and his voyageurs heap their fire that shall blaze till the morning,
Ere they lay themselves snugly to rest, with their guns by their sides on the blankets,
As if there were none to molest but the gray, skulking wolves of the forest.
'Tis midnight. The rising moon gleams, weird and still, o'er the dusky horizon;
Through the hushed, somber forest she beams, and fitfully gloams on the meadows;
And a dim, glimmering pathway she paves, at times, on the dark stretch of river. ”

“ With crowns from the bark of the white-birch trees,
And new skin leggins that reach the knees;
With robes of the bison and swarthy bear,
And eagle-plumes in their coal-black hair,
And marvelous rings in their tawny ears
That were pierced with the points of their shining spears.
To honor Heyóka Wakâwa lifts
His fuming pipe from the Red-stone Quarry. [23]
The warriors follow. The white cloud drifts
From the Council-lodge to the welkin starry,
Like a fog at morn on the fir-clad hill,
When the meadows are damp and the winds are still. ”

“ God fed his fainting and famished child.
At night again to the northward far
She followed the torch of Wazíya's star;
For leagues away o'er the prairies green,
On the billowy vast, may a man be seen,
When the sun is high and the stars are low;
And the sable breast of the strutting crow
Looms up like the form of the buffalo.
The Bloody River [40] she reached at last,
And boldly walked in the light of day,
On the level plain of the valley vast;
Nor thought of the terrible Chippeway.
She was safe from the wolves of her father's band,
But she trod on the treacherous "Bloody Land." ”

“ Among the howling wolves and lazar-hags,
Crying for mercy where no mercy is,
Hewed down in heaps by bloody ax and pike.
From their grim battlements the imps of hell
Indignant hissed and damped their fires with tears;
And Manhood from the watch-towers of the world
Cried in the name of Human Nature—"Hold!"
As well the drifting snail might strive to still
The volcan-heaved, storm-struck, moon-maddened sea.
Blood-frenzied beasts demand their feast of blood.
"Liberty—Equality—Fraternity!"—the cry
Of blood-hounds baying on the track of babes. ”

“ The life of man is short, but Art is long,
And labor is the lot of mortal man,
Ordained by God since human time began:
Day follows day and brings its toil and song.
Behind the western mountains sinks the moon,
The silver dawn steals in upon the dark,
Up from the dewy meadow wheels the lark
And trills his welcome to the rising sun,
And lo another day of labor is begun.
Poets are born, not made, some scribbler said,
And every rhymester thinks the saying true:
Better unborn than wanting labor's aid:
Aye, all great poets—all great men—are made
Between the hammer and the anvil. ”

“ The earth is but a grain of sand—
An atom in a shoreless sea;
A million worlds lie in God's hand—
Yea, myriad millions—what are we?
O mortal man of bone and blood!
Then is there nothing left but dust?
God made us; He is wise and good,
And we may humbly hope and trust.
WINONA.
When the meadow-lark trilled o'er the leas and the oriole piped in the maples,
From my hammock, all under the trees, by the sweet-scented field of red clover,
I harked to the hum of the bees, as they gathered the mead of the blossoms,
And caught from their low melodies the air of the song of Winona. ”

“ Ere I will be wife to the dark Red Cloud!'
Then he spake again, and his voice was low,
But I heard the answer of Little Crow:
'Let it be as you will, for Wakâwa's tongue
Has spoken no promise—his lips are slow,
And the love of a father is deep and strong.'
"Mah-pí-ya Dúta, they scorn your love,
But the false chief covets the warrior's gifts. ”

“ To the loving eyes of the lover aye
The blossom of beautiful youth appears.
At last, when their locks were as white as snow,
Beloved and honored by all the band,
They silently slipped from their lodge below,
And walked together, and hand in hand,
O'er the Shining Path [68] to the Spirit-land,
Where the hills and the meadows for aye and aye
Are clad with the verdure and flowers of May,
And the unsown prairies of Paradise
Yield the golden maize and the sweet wild rice. ”

“ Go forth into the forest and observe—
For men believe their eyes and doubt their ears—
The creeping vine, the shrub, the lowly bush,
The dwarfed and stunted trees, the bent and bowed,
And here and there a lordly oak or elm,
And o'er them all a tall and princely pine.
All struggle upward, but the many fail;
The low dwarfed by the shadows of the great,
The stronger basking in the genial sun. ”

“ When the war-whoop shrill resounded, calling friends to meet the foe,
From the teepee swift he bounded, armed with polished lance and bow.
In the battle's din and clangor fast his fatal arrows flew,
Flashed his fiery eyes with anger,—many a stealthy foe he slew.
Hunter swift was he and cunning, caught the beaver, slew the bear,
Overtook the roebuck running, dragged the panther from his lair.
Loved was he by many a maiden; many a dark eye glanced in vain;
Many a heart with sighs was laden for the love it could not gain. ”

“ Behold the scalp-locks of your enemies hanging there on his lodge-poles! Do they call him a coward? Ta-ó-ya-te-dú-ta is not a coward, and he is not a fool. Braves, you are like little children; you know not what you are doing.
"You are full of the white man's devil-water" (rum) . "You are like dogs in the Hot Moon when they run mad and snap at their own shadows. We are only little herds of buffaloes left scattered; the great herds that once covered the prairies are no more. See!—the white men are like the locusts when they fly so thick that the whole sky is a snow-storm. ”

“ Listen not to the voice of the crow. [AH] Hold as sacred the wife of a brother.
Strike, and fear not the shaft of the foe, for the soul of the brave is immortal.
Slay the warrior in battle, but spare the innocent babe and the mother.
Remember a promise,—beware,—let the word of a warrior be sacred
When a stranger arrives at the tee—be he friend of the band or a foeman,
Give him food; let your bounty be free; lay a robe for the guest by the lodge-fire;
Let him go to his kindred in peace, if the peace-pipe he smoke in the teepee ”

“ Where the Saxon now inherits golden field and silver mere;
And beside the mound where buried lies the dark-eyed maid he loves,
Some tall warrior, wan and wearied, in the misty moonlight moves.
See—he stands erect and lingers—stoic still, but loth to go—
Clutching in his tawny fingers feathered shaft and polished bow.
Never wail or moan he utters and no tear is on his face,
But a warrior's curse he mutters on the crafty Saxon race.
O thou dark, mysterious River, speak and tell thy tales to me;
Seal not up thy lips forever—veiled in mist and mystery. ”

“ He strode like a stag and he stood like a pine;
Ten feathers he wore of the great Wanmdeé, [13]
With crimsoned quills of the porcupine
His leggins were worked to his brawny knee.
Blood-red were the stripes on his swarthy cheek,
And the necklace that girdled his brawny neck
Was the polished claws of the great Mató [14]
He grappled and slew in the northern snow.
Proud Red Cloud turned to the braves and said,
As he shook the plumes on his haughty head:
"Ho! the warrior that scorneth the foe and fire
Heyóka will crown with his heart's desire!" ”