Summary

Sauk chief Black Hawk Autobiography of Ma-ka-tai-me-she-kia-kiak…

The pale moon still creeps from her daily rest, Throwing her rays o'er the river's dark breast, The katy-did and cricket, I trow, In days gone by, chirruped, even as now. Indian! thy camp-fires no longer are smoldering, They bones 'neath the forest moss long have been mouldering, The "Great Spirit" claims thee. He leadeth they tribe, To new hunting-grounds not won with a bribe. On thy Watch Tow'r the pale face his home now makes, His dwelling, the site of the forest tree takes, Gone are thy wigwams, the wild deer now fled, Black Hawk, with his tribe, lie silent and dead.
Source: Gutenberg

Sauk chief Black Hawk Autobiography of Ma-ka-tai-me-she-kia-kiak…

If some time our great men talk long and loud at our council fires, but shed one drop of white men's blood, our young warriors, as thick as the stars of the night, will leap aboard of our great boats, which fly on the waves and over the lakes—swift as the eagle in the air—then penetrate the woods, make the big guns thunder, and the whole heavens red with the flames of the dwellings of their enemies.
Source: Gutenberg

Sauk chief Black Hawk Autobiography of Ma-ka-tai-me-she-kia-kiak…

Below, winds the river, silent and still, Nestling so calmly 'mid island and hill, Above, like warriors, proudly and grand, Tower the forest trees, monarchs of land. A land mark for all to admire and wonder, With thy history ancient, for nations to ponder, Boldly thou liftest they head to the breeze, Crowned with they plumes, the nodding trees. Years are now gone—forever more fled, Since the Indians crept, with cat-like tread, With mocasined foot, with eagle eye— The red men our foes in ambush lie.
Source: Gutenberg

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