The Feast of the Virgins and Other Poems Part 20

And high o'er the eddies and waves hung their offerings of furs and tobacco,[G]

And here to the Master of life-- _Anpe-tu-wee_, [70] G.o.d of the heavens, Chief, warrior, and maiden, and wife, burned the sacred green sprigs of the cedar. [50]

And here to the Searcher-of-hearts-- fierce _Ta-ku Skan-skan_, [51] the avenger, Who dwells in the uppermost parts of the earth, and the blue, starry ether, Ever watching, with all-seeing eyes, the deeds of the wives and the warriors, As an osprey afar in the skies, sees the fish as they swim in the waters, Oft spread they the bison-tongue feast, and singing preferred their pet.i.tions, Till the Day-Spirit[70] rose in the East-- in the red, rosy robes of the morning, To sail o'er the sea of the skies, to his lodge in the land of the shadows, Where the black-winged tornadoes[H] arise, rus.h.i.+ng loud from the mouths of their caverns.

And here with a shudder they heard, flying far from his _tee_ in the mountains, _Wa-kin-yan_,[32] the huge Thunder-Bird, with the arrows of fire in his talons.

[F] _Tee--teepee_, the Dakota name for tent or wigwam

[G] See _Hennepin's Description of Louisiana_, by Shea, pp. 243 and 256.

_Parkman's Discovery_, p. 246--and _Carver's Travels_, p. 67.

[Ill.u.s.tration: FALLS OF ST. ANTHONY.

FACSIMILE OF THE CUT IN CARVER'S TRAVELS, PUBLISHED AT LONDON, IN 1778, FROM A SURVEY AND SKETCH MADE BY CAPT. J. CARVER, NOV. 17, 1766.

PERPENDICULAR FALL, 30 FEET; BREADTH NEAR 600 FEET.]

[H] The Dakotas, like the ancient Romans and Greeks, think the home of the winds is in the caverns of the mountains, and their great Thunder-bird resembles in many respects the Jupiter of the Romans and the Zeus of the Greeks. The resemblance of the Dakota mythology to that of the older Greeks and Romans is striking.

Two hundred white Winters and more have fled from the face of the Summer Since here by the cataract's roar, in the moon of the red-blooming lilies,[71]

In the _tee_ of Ta-te-psin[I] was born Winona--wild-rose of the prairies.

Like the summer sun peeping, at morn, o'er the hills was the face of Winona.

And here she grew up like a queen-- a romping and lily-lipped laughter, And danced on the undulant green, and played in the frolicsome waters, Where the foaming tide tumbles and whirls o'er the murmuring rocks in the rapids; And whiter than foam were the pearls that gleamed in the midst of her laughter.

Long and dark was her flowing hair flung like the robe of the night to the breezes; And gay as the robin she sung, or the gold-breasted lark of the meadows.

Like the wings of the wind were her feet, and as sure as the feet of _Ta-to-ka_[J]

And oft like an antelope fleet o'er the hills and the prairies she bounded, Lightly laughing in sport as she ran, and looking back over her shoulder At the fleet-footed maiden or man that vainly her flying feet followed.

The belle of the village was she, and the pride of the aged Ta-te-psin, Like a sunbeam she lighted his _tee_, and gladdened the heart of her father.

[I] _Tate_--wind,--_psin_--wild-rice--wild-rice wind.

[J] mountain antelope.

In the golden-hued _Wazu-pe-wee_-- the moon when the wild-rice is gathered; When the leaves on the tall sugar-tree are as red as the breast of the robin, And the red-oaks that border the lea are aflame with the fire of the sunset, From the wide, waving fields of wild-rice-- from the meadows of _Psin-ta-wak-pa-dan_,[K]

Where the geese and the mallards rejoice, and grow fat on the bountiful harvest, Came the hunters with saddles of moose and the flesh of the bear and the bison, And the women in birch-bark canoes well laden with rice from the meadows.

[K] Little Rice River. It bears the name of Rice Creek to-day and empties into the Mississippi from the east, a few miles above Minneapolis.

With the tall, dusky hunters, behold, came a marvelous man or a spirit, White-faced and so wrinkled and old, and clad in the robe of the raven.

Unsteady his steps were and slow, and he walked with a staff in his right hand, And white as the first-falling snow were the thin locks that lay on his shoulders.

Like rime-covered moss hung his beard, flowing down from his face to his girdle; And wan was his aspect and weird, and often he chanted and mumbled In a strange and mysterious tongue, as he bent o'er his book in devotion, Or lifted his dim eyes and sung, in a low voice, the solemn "_Te Deum_,"

Or Latin, or Hebrew, or Greek-- all the same were his words to the warriors,-- All the same to the maids and the meek, wide-wondering-eyed, hazel-brown children.

Father Rene Menard [L]--it was he, long lost to his Jesuit brothers, Sent forth by an holy decree to carry the Cross to the heathen.

In his old age abandoned to die, in the swamps, by his timid companions, He prayed to the Virgin on high, and she led him forth from the forest; For angels she sent him as men-- in the forms of the tawny Dakotas, And they led his feet from the fen, from the slough of despond and the desert, Half dead in a dismal mora.s.s, as they followed the red-deer they found him, In the midst of the mire and the gra.s.s, and mumbling "_Te Deum laudamus._"

"_Unktomee[72]--Ho!_" muttered the braves, for they deemed him the black Spider-Spirit That dwells in the drearisome caves, and walks on the marshes at midnight, With a flickering torch in his hand, to decoy to his den the unwary.

His tongue could they not understand, but his torn hands all shriveled with famine He stretched to the hunters and said: "He feedeth his chosen with manna; And ye are the angels of G.o.d sent to save me from death in the desert."

His famished and woe-begone face, and his tones touched the hearts of the hunters; They fed the poor father apace, and they led him away to _Ka-tha-ga._

[L] See the account of Father Menard, his mission and disappearance in the wilderness. _Neill's Hist. Minnesota_, pp 104-107, inc.

There little by little he learned the tongue of the tawny Dakotas; And the heart of the good father yearned to lead them away from their idols-- Their giants[16] and dread Thunder-birds-- their wors.h.i.+p of stones[73] and the devil.

"_Wakan-de!_"[M] they answered his words, for he read from his book in the Latin, Lest the Nazarene's holy commands by his tongue should be marred in translation; And oft with his beads in his hands, or the cross and the crucified Jesus, He knelt by himself on the sands, and his dim eyes uplifted to heaven.

But the braves bade him look to the East-- to the silvery lodge of _Han-nan-na_;[N]

And to dance with the chiefs at the feast-- at the feast of the Giant _Heyo-ka._[16]

They frowned when the good father spurned the flesh of the dog in the kettle, And laughed when his fingers were burned in the hot, boiling pot of the giant.

"The Black-robe" they called the poor priest, from the hue of his robe and his girdle; And never a game or a feast but the father must grace with his presence.

His prayer-book the hunters revered,-- they deemed it a marvelous spirit; It spoke and the white father heard,-- it interpreted visions and omens.

And often they bade him to pray this marvelous spirit to answer, And tell where the sly Chippewa might be ambushed and slain in his forest.

For Menard was the first in the land, proclaiming, like John in the desert, "The Kingdom of Heaven is at hand; repent ye, and turn from your idols."

The first of the brave brotherhood that, threading the fens and the forest, Stood afar by the turbulent flood at the falls of the Father of Waters.

[Ill.u.s.tration: FATHER RENE MENARD]

[M] It is wonderful!

[N] The morning.

In the lodge of the Stranger[O] he sat, awaiting the crown of a martyr; His sad face compa.s.sion begat in the heart of the dark-eyed Winona.

Oft she came to the _teepee_ and spoke; she brought him the tongue of the bison, Sweet nuts from the hazel and oak, and flesh of the fawn and the mallard.

Soft _hanpa_[P] she made for his feet and leggins of velvety fawn-skin, A blanket of beaver complete, and a hood of the hide of the otter.

And oft at his feet on the mat, deftly braiding the flags and the rushes, Till the sun sought his _teepee_ she sat, enchanted with what he related Of the white-winged s.h.i.+ps on the sea and the _teepees_ far over the ocean, Of the love and the sweet charity of the Christ and the beautiful Virgin.

[O] A lodge set apart for guests of the village.

[P] Moccasins.

She listened like one in a trance when he spoke of the brave, bearded Frenchmen, From the green, sun-lit valleys of France to the wild _Hochelaga_[Q] transplanted, Oft trailing the deserts of snow in the heart of the dense Huron forests, Or steering the dauntless canoe through the waves of the fresh-water ocean.

"Yea, stronger and braver are they,"

said the aged Menard to Winona, "Than the head-chief, tall Wazi-kute,[74]

but their words are as soft as a maiden's, Their eyes are the eyes of the swan, but their hearts are the hearts of the eagles; And the terrible _Masa Wakan_[R]

ever walks by their side like a spirit; Like a Thunder-bird, roaring in wrath, flinging fire from his terrible talons, He sends to their enemies death in the flash of the fatal _Wakandee_."[S]

[Q] The Ottawa name for the region of the St. Lawrence River.

[R] "Mysterious metal"--or metal having a spirit in it. This is the common name applied by the Dakotas to all firearms.

[S] Lightning.

The Autumn was past and the snow lay drifted and deep on the prairies; From his _teepee_ of ice came the foe-- came the storm-breathing G.o.d of the winter.

Then roared in the groves, on the plains, on the ice-covered lakes and the river, The blasts of the fierce hurricanes blown abroad from the breast of _Waziya_. [3]

The bear cuddled down in his den, and the elk fled away to the forest; The pheasant and gray prairie-hen made their beds in the heart of the snow-drift; The bison herds huddled and stood in the hollows and under the hill-sides, Or rooted the snow for their food in the lee of the bluffs and the timber; And the mad winds that howled from the north, from the ice-covered seas of _Waziya_, Chased the gray wolf and silver-fox forth to their dens in the hills of the forest.

Poor Father Menard--he was ill; in his breast burned the fire of a fever; All in vain was the magical skill of _Wicasta Wakan_ [61] with his rattle; Into soft, child-like slumber he fell, and awoke in the land of the blessed-- To the holy applause of "Well-done!"

and the harps in the hands of the angels.

Long he carried the cross and he won the coveted crown of a martyr.

In the land of the heathen he died, meekly following the voice of his Master, One mourner alone by his side-- Ta-te-psin's compa.s.sionate daughter.

She wailed the dead father with tears, and his bones by her kindred she buried.

Then winter followed winter. The years sprinkled frost on the head of her father; And three weary winters she dreamed of the fearless and fair, bearded Frenchmen; At midnight their swift paddles gleamed on the breast of the broad Mississippi, And the eyes of the brave strangers beamed on the maid in the midst of her slumber.

She lacked not admirers; the light of the lover oft burned in her _teepee_-- At her couch in the midst of the night,-- but she never extinguished the flambeau.

The son of Chief Wazi-kute-- a fearless and eagle-plumed warrior-- Long sighed for Winona, and he was the pride of the band of _Isantees_.

Three times, in the night at her bed, had the brave held the torch of the lover, [75]