Henry Rowe Schoolcraft,
The Myth of Hiawatha, and Other Oral Legends…
“ I start to hear the foe's mad cries, Louder and louder, as I clutch My club, or lance, or bow and dart, And, springing with a panther's touch, Display the red man's bloody art. Nay, I am sick of life and blood, That drowns my country like a flood, Pouring o'er hill, and vale, and lea, Lodge, ville, and council, like a sea, Where one must gasp and gasp for breath To live—and stay the power of death. Ah! life's good things are all too poor, Its daily hardships to endure. ”
