^tatc College of aigricuHure at Cornell Wlnibetsit^ itbafa, M.S- ICibrarp GPT OP JlliS..£...C...OORNELi. PS 2959.S5Fr" """"'">"■'''"'>' Frontenac .... 3 1924 014 492 825 The original of this book is in the Cornell University Library. There are no known copyright restrictions in the United States on the use of the text. http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924014492825 Date Due ~mt^^-^\>^ — flPnM(- ly iiniro xfif-i X c Wn 60K Library Bureau Cat. No. 1137 Mp54.^ ea>irWdc~]i,f.-Walt£r q)%^IijlA'-^ Lo..l.orrB.,l,vni Ti>..,Hr.ff..lS49 ^^M^^mL-3^^^'^^'^' ALP..A>XV FRONTENAC POEM OF THE IROQUOIS ALFRED B. STEEET ALBANY JOEL MUFSELL MDCCCLXVI /f ^ f/^V/ Entered according to Act of Congress in the year 1806, Bt Alfred B. Steeet, In the Clerk's Office of tlie District Court of the United States, for the Northern District of New York. REFACE, Our tale is based upon the fol- lowing chapter of history. In the month of June, 1696, Count Pron- tenac, then GrOTernor-G-eneral of Canada, assembled an army at La- chine, a few miles from Montreal, for an expedition against the Iroquois, who, from the earliest settlement of the province, had been inimical to the French. The army consisted of the regular troops, the Jiabitans or militia of the province, and some of the Indian tribes, who were the allies of the French, and who entertained an hereditary hatred against the Iroquois, by reason of their nations having, in former times, been conquered by the Confederacy. Frontenae, with this army, as- cended the St. Lawrence, in bateaux and canoes, carry- ing with him, in addition to light arms, cannon, mortars, and grenades. Making the customary portages, he reached Lake Ontario, coasted its eastern waters, as- cended the Oswego River, crossed Onondaga Lake, and viii Preface. encamped upon its borders. He then plunged, with his forces, into the vast wilderness, in search of the Iroquois. Arriving at the principal castle or village of the Onon- dagas, into whose particular canton or country he had penetrated, he found it deserted. Pushing farther then into the wilderness, Frontenac discovered nothing of his wild enemies, and finally, in disappointment, he retraced his march. On his return path, however, the Iroquois way- laid his steps, killed a number of his men, and did not cease their attacks until he had entirely left their territory. The Iroquois at that time consisted of five nations, viz. : the Mohawks, Oneidas, Cayugas, Onondagas, and Senecas, occupying a territory which they figuratively called their Long House, extending from east to west over what is now the State of New York, from the Lakes Brie and Ontario to the Hudson Eiver. These Indian nations had banded themselves into a League or Confederacy, at first for protection against their common enemies, continuing it afterwards for con- quest. The time of the formation of this League is not known, but is supposed to have been ages before the white man appeared among them, and it has given birth, on accountiof its value and importance, as well as its being involved in the mist of uncertainty, to a wild mythology concerning it among themselves. When Champlain first came to Quebec, he found the Preface. ix Confederacy at war with the Hurons arid Adirondaeks, then warlike and powerful nations. Having allied himself to the Adirondaeks, he joined them in an expedition against the Iroquois ; and, by reason of the fire-arms he carried, then totally unknown to the warriors of the Confederacy, he was the means of defeating the latter on the borders of the very lake which now bears his name. This kindled an animosity against the French on the part of the Iroquois, which was never forgotten. Receiving, a few years afterwards, fire- arms in their turn from the Dutch, who, in the meanwhile, had penetrated the forests along the Hudson and Mohawk Rivers in New York, the confederated warriors commenced their attacks upon the French at every post and settlement. So serious did their inroads become, that at times the very province itself was in jeopardy. And not only did these warlike savages annoy the French, but they turned their arms against all the neighboring tribes, driving the Hurons and Adirondaeks, their former rivals, from their villages and hunting-grounds, and absolutely extermin- ating many of the savage nations around them. Push- ing their conquests in all directions, they at length mastered every Indian tribe residing, not only in New York, but every other, as far as Carolina to the south, and the Mississippi to the west. The Governors-General of Canada made frequent incursions into their territory or Long House, but those incursions only served to X Pbbface. stimulate the wrath of these haughty and powerful savages, without weakening their strength or diminishing their power. That strength and power had arrived at their height when Frontenao took the reins of command for the second time, in 1689. The Iroquois had now assumed so threatening an attitude, that this stern and proud noble thought it advisable to penetrate their fastnesses and crush them, if possible, at a blow. Hence the expedition above detailed, which was, however, as fruitless as those of the former Grovernors-General De La Barre and De Nonville. In the meanwhile the Confederacy (its good-will and friendship having been transferred by the Dutch to the English) proved itself as faithful to Corlear, the name it gave to the English Grovernor, as hostile to Yon-non-de- yoh, its title for the Grovernor-General of the French. Consequently, in 1776, when the war of the Revolution broke out, true to their old friendship, the Iroquois sided with England. This led to the expedition of Sullivan, the American G-eneral, into the heart of their country. Sullivan desolated their fields, destroyed their villages, and exterminated the warriors they brought against him. From this period they began to decline. With the re- turn of peace, civilization commenced hewing down their forests, and taking possession of their hunting-grounds ; and the unwelcome sight of the Pale-face met them in every direction beside their beautiful streams and roman- Pkeface. xi tic lakes. Their Long House, to use their own pathetic language, was broken open at both ends, and the storms of destruction made it desolate for ever. The Mohawks abandoned their lovely valley in a body, and settled upon Grand River, in Canada, on territory granted them by the British Government. The rest of the Confederacy, although it had been previously increased by the acces- sion of the Tuscaroras, a reclaimed original tribe, gradu- ally diminished, and has still continued to waste away until now only a few individuals remain, haunting their smiling valleys, and hovering around their sparkling waters, miserable spectres of the former greatness of the Iroquois. A few more years, and even they will disap- pear. The memory of the Confederacy only will remain to furnish fit theme for song and story, and one more melancholy instance of a once powerful and happy people entirely disappearing from the face of the earth. CONTENTS. CANTO FIRST. PAGE Lucille— Feontenac 1 CANTO SECOND. The laoQrois — The Canadian SPRiNa — The Peace Belt — On-on-dah-gah — TheAt-o-ta-ho — The ' Robin — The Message — Quebec — The Calumet — The Talk 33 CANTO THIRD. The Wae Song — The Huntebs — The Bateau — The Caeignan Village— The BBmANTiNE . . 61 CANTO FOURTH. The Thansbgiying Dance — The Dance ob' the Great Spirit — Kolah — The Expedition — The Bivouac — The Abduction — The Rescue and Death . 89 CANTO FIFTH. The Inn op the Canoe — We-an-dah — The Summons — The Encampment — The March . . .135 xiv Contents. CANTO SIXTH. The Wae-Hatcbcet — The Wildeekess — The Cata- EACT — The Sbneoab — Leaping Panther — Cay- TTGA Lake — The Cattjgas — The Onbidas — The Steawbeebt Dance — The Canoe Votagb — The Mohawks' Scalp Dance 153 CANTO SEVENTH. The Maech — The 'Wab-Danoe — The Council — The QuAEEEL — ThePeiestess — The Saceed Flame . 189 CANTO EIGHTH. The Maech — The Meeting — The March — The Moccasin-Peint — The Night-Watch . . . 227 CANTO NINTH. The Battle — The Toettjee — The Defiance — The Death— Feontbnac — Mass poe the Dead . . 355 CANTO FIEST. LUCILLE, FKONTENAC. CANTO FIRST. LUCILLE. iWAS in June's bright and glowing prime The loveliest of the summer time. The laurels were one splendid sheet Of crowded blossom everywhere ; The locust's clustered pearl was sweet, And the tall whitewood made the air Delicious with the fragrance shed From golden flowers all o'er it spread. II. In the rich pomp of dying day Quebec, the rock-throned monarch, glowed - Castle and spire and dwelling gray The batteries rude that niched their way Along the cliff, beneath the play Of the deep yellow light, were gay. And the curved flood, below that lay, In flashing glory flowed ; Feontbnac. Beyond, the sweet and mellow smile Beamed upon Orleans' lovely islej Until the downward view Was closed by mountain-tops that, reared Against the burnished sky, appeared In misty dreamy hue. III. West of Quebec's embankments rose The forests in their wild repose. Between the trunks, the radiance slim Here came with slant and quivering blaze ; Whilst there, in leaf-wreathed arbors dim, Was gathering gray the twilight's haze. Whore cut the boughs the back-ground glow That striped the west, a glittering belt. The leaves transparent seemed, as though In the rich radiance they would melt. IV. Upon a narrow grassy glade, Where thickets stood in grouping shade, The light streaked down in golden mist. Kindled the shrubs, the greensward kissed, Until the clover-blossoms white Flashed out like spangles large and bright. V. This green and sun-streaked glade was rife With sights and sounds of forest life. Lucille. A robin in a bush was singing, A flicker* rattled on a tree ; In liquid fife-like tones round ringing A thrasherf piped its melody; Crouching and leaping with pointed ear From thicket to thicket a rabbit sped, And on the short delicate grass a deer Brushing the insects from oiF him, fed. VI. Sudden he paused with lifted foot. Then, like an arrow, away he shot ; Robin and flicker and thrasher were mute ; The rabbit glided from the spot — The next an Indian, from the shade. Came bounding out upon the glade. Vir. A warrior was he, armed for strife, With tomahawk and scalping knife Thrust through his wampum-belt ; The long look crowned his shayen head ; Bare, save the belt, his form of red. And where around his loins was spread A stripe of shaggy felt. ♦The golden-'winged woodpecker of the American forests. tThe hrown thrush of the same. Fkontenac. VIII. With head aside he stood intent An instant, then he stooped and bent His ear upon the ground ; Then looking forth with piercing eye, Entered a laurel thicket nigh So subtly, to the breeze's sigh More motion 'twould have found. IX. Silence fell deeply down once more, Till fluttering sounds among the trees Told that the woodland fright was o'er And soon would swell fresh harmonies. The robin's warble was renewed. The flicker's hammer tapped again, And once more through the solitude Eang out the thrasher's splendid strain ; But the sweet sounds had scarcely filled The place, when they again were stilled. On the green glade two figures came ; One of a tall and stalwart frame, With sword and plume and martial air ; The other scarce four summers old. Whose coal-black eyes and raven hair And features — though of loveliest mould,- O'er-tinted with a light red shade, Blood of the native race betrayed. LuOILIiB. The soldier, on tie grass reclined, Viewed the glad gamhols of the child, Who, to each impulse of her mind. Now, gave her shout of pleasure wild. As the rich red-bird in his flight Passed with a flash some streak of light Slanted in hazy sheen j And now, with footstep hounding free. Chased the fleet squirrel to its tree. Across the sylvan scene. XI. Tired with her sports, at length the girl Paused at the leaning soldier's side. Brushed from his brow a silvery curl. And then her panting efibrts plied. Until she bared his glittering brand. And sought to poise it in her hand. XII. Closer the child the senior drew And with delight carressed her head; " Thou would'st have been a soldier too Had'st thou been born a boy ! " he said ; " Thy sire's brave blood within thee glows Too strong for peaceful dull repose ; 3 Feontenac. And the wild nature I espy Of thy red mother in thine eye. Listen ! I'll tell the tale again I told thee yester-night, When proudly on the battle plain France stemmed the dreadful fight, And heard at last the clarion strain Of victory crown her might ! And then commenced the legend old : The girl's red features flushed more red, Brightened her eye more wild and bold As on the story sped. Until with sight that fairly blazed, The blade with both her hands she raised And waved it o'er her head. XIII. At the first words, a thicket's screen Had moved behind the pair. And then two eyeballs fierce and keen Like spots of fire gleamed there ; Out came a scalp-lock — then a head — Then was put forth an arm of red, And, like the cowering panther's tread. The Indian left his lair. XIV. Stilly, as glides o'er earth a shade From bush to bush along the glade Lucille. The stealthy savage went : A snap, the girl half turned ; his crouch , Was like the spider's, when a touch Its filmy snare has rent. Then, rising from behind the bank Where for an instant's space, he sank. Again he glided low; The tremble of the leaves and grass Telling alone his snake-like pass, So viewless, silent, slow. XV. Near and more near, with eyes of flame, The Indian creeping, creeping, came, Until he paused and drew His hatchet, then leaned quickly back And from his clutch in whirling track The glittering weapon flew ; It fell upon the soldier's head. Who, as gushed out a stream of red. Groaned deep, and started from his bed Convulsive to his knee; In vain, in vain ; the hatchet drank Again his blood, and down he sank Beneath his enemy. And, as in pangs of parting life The quivering soldier lay, The savage drew his gleaming knife And wrenched the scalp away. 10 Fbontbnac. XVI. The child, transfixed in mute surprise, Had viewed the scene with staring eyes; But, as the fearful Indian shred The scalp from off that honored head. Then, wakened from her trance, Lifting the weapon, at the foe She leaped, and sought to aim her blow With stern defying glance. XVII. The savage gazed ; across his brow A look gleamed proud and high ; 'Twas vivid admiration now That glittered in his eye ; And with a guttural of delight. The child, again o'erwhelmed with fright. But holding still the blade, He swept upon his stalwart arm. And, as she shrieked in wild alarm. Plunged with her in the shade. Leaving the scene to its repose In the soft hue of twilight's close. XVIII. Over the glade the ladened bee Darted straight' forward to its tree ; Each bird low twittered on its perch ; The night-hawk flew in jarring search Frontbnac. 11 The crow flapped o'er with solemn croak ; The frog its clamorous piping woke ; The wolf drew out his plaintive howl ; Shouted, in pauses brief, the owl ; Her wail set up the whippoorwill ; The tree-toad swelled its hollow trill , The fire-flies shed, in thickening flight, Their gold-green intermittent light Until the gray and glimmering haze With fairy meteors, seemed ablaze; And once another deer stepped out, But as he stooped to feed, about He swerved with snort of dread, And through the darkening forest waste Dashed far away in frenzied haste — There lay the bloody dead. FRONTENAO. XIX. Reared on the clifi^, at the very brink, Whence a pebble dropped would sink Four-score feet to the slope below. The Castle of St. Louis caught Dancing hues of delicate pink. With which the clouds o'erhead were fraught From the rich sunset's streaming glow. 12 Fkontbnac. XX. Opposite, in the soft warm light The Eecollets' steeple glittered bright; And tipped with gold was the Convent by, Whilst both threw a mantle of raven dye The broad Place d'Armes across, That up to the massive curtain lay, Save where a slanting and hazy ray, Shooting between the buildings gray. Streaked it with yellow gloss ; The bastions threw on the Castle court Crescents of shade, whilst the sallyport Open, was filled with a golden glare That made the sentinel's cuirass glow With transient flashing, as to and fro Trod he monotonous there. XXI. Within a room of the Castle, bright From a ray of rich ruby light. That caused great tremulous blots to fall On raftered ceiling and oaken wall. And touched the weapons in nooks arranged. Till keen quick winkings they exchanged, Frontenac sat at a massive desk, Carved all over with shapes grotesque. XXII. Around him were splendor and rudeness at strife, Signs of the savage and civilized life. Frontenac, 13 Here branched, for some gay garment's use, The broad flat antlers of the moose ; There, o'er some painting rich were hung Wampum in varied colors strung ; Whilst moccasin and blanket red By corslet and steel pike were spread. XXIII. A will, restraint that could not brook, And pride that downward frowned on all. Gleamed in his stern and haughty look And breathed around his figure tall. Although his bended eye and brow Were fixed in anxious musing now. XXIV. The Iroquois in their dread and might Stood frowning in his mental sight ; Onward and onward their power had pressed ; Upward and upward had risen their crest ; Nought in the woods now their might could oppose, Nought could withstand their confederate blows ; Banded in strength and united in soul, They moved on their course with the cataract's roll. XXV. Wherever the banner of France was reared. The blood thirsty hate of the Braves appeared ; Kindled against Champlain when first His lightening death on their sires had burst. Years had not quenched it, for never depart Thoughts of revenge from the Indian heart. 14 Frontbnac. XXVI. Frontenac long, wit]i care, had tried To win their kindness to his side ; But the stern Nations in disdain The proffered belt cast back again. If he uttered 'wrathful threat. With a taunting scorn 'twas met : And if he sent, in a burst of ire, A sudden foray of sword and fire. Everywhere up the wild warriors stood. And rushed in fierce joy to their banquet of blood. XXVII. From ceiling and wall the light vanished away. The room now began to grow dusky and gray ; Sculptured desk and high-backed chair Strange wild figures seemed to wear ; Branching antlers round the wall Seemed to wax more wide and tall j Weapons in their corners made Faint dull glimmerings in the shade : — Still sat Frontenac motionless, Still thought's burthen seemed heavy to press. Hark 1 a sudden cry ! a beat In the court of many feet — He glanced through the casement — amid a throng Of soldiers, a figure was borne along — A drooping figure, the glimmering light Yielding the outlines alone to sight. Fbontenac. 15 XXVIII. E'en as lie looked the portal jarred, A hurried step at the door was heard, — Hastily entered a pallid guard, With a soldier's salute at the bidding word ; " That form — whose is it ? — this stir why made ? " "The Sieur Lavergne's! he is'' — " What, speak ! "— " Dead ! "— "Dead?"— — "Found by the hunter Bizarre in the glade' Where he used at sunset to ramble, with head Showing the knife of the Iroquois wild !" — " Dead ! found in the glade ! but where is my child ! Lucille ! my daughter ! together they left The castle at sunset ! " The father bereft Struggled with groans that the soldier suppressed ; " Send the scouts quickly and bid them not rest Till the forests are scoured ! let Count Lavergne Be brought in the room ! " The spirit stern Of the warrior seemed again to sway. While on the table they placed the dead, Lighted the cresset swung overhead. Then hastened with soft falling footsteps away. Seizing the hand of his early friend. Again did the soul of proud Frontenac bend ; He pressed that mangled and clotted head, There were the muscles all bare and red. " Those Iroquois fiends ! " — he muttered low — "Lucille, Lucille, did the murderous blow " Fall on thee ! ho ! without there ! haste ! 4 16 Frontbnac. Let the hunter Bizarre in our presence be placed! — Tell me," as low the rough woodsman made Obeisance uncouth, " didst thou traverse the glade ? Was there none other lying there ? " "None!" " Leave me !" No eye must behold his despair. The ruthless stern Frontenac bent o'er the dead With a heart from which all but deep sorrow was fled ; That arm, cold and stiff, had once sheltered his life In a whirlwind of bloody and desperate strife ; And Lucille the loved child of Sa-ha-wee ! * too gone ! Must his winter of life be left cheerless and lone ! The Iroquois ! up flashed his fury ! he sprung, Clutched his sword until in its steel scabbard it rungj And on through the room with quick gestures he strode, As though some fierce demon was plying his goad. XXIX. Scarce a fleeting three months glide Since his murdered Sa-ha-wee died, Struck by the hand of Ta-yo-nee "f" while seeing, (So her Iroquois handmaid said), Seated upon Cape Diamond's head. Slowly the beautiful sunset fleeing From the landscape below her spread. " Yon-non-de-yoh's slave no more," Hissed the fierce Brave as his hatchet flashed o'er — ."Die!" and bleeding, Sa-ha-wee fell j Then pealing a wrathful triumphant yell, * A vine, in the On-on-dali-gali tongue. t A wolf, in tlie same. Fbontenac. 17 And spurning the shrieking attendant away, Off bore the chieftain the lifeless clay. Ta-yo-nee ! her brother ! and could it be That he again was the enemy ! The On-on-dah-gah fierce, whose hate To the French race had visited The vengeance of such dreadful fate Upon a sister's head ! And then the thoughts of that sister stole Like music o'er Frontenac's tortured soul. A captive brought to the shores of France By noble De Tracy with h«r sire, In his stern bosom her fawn-like glance, Kindled at length delicious fire ; And when, heart-broken, her father died, He wooed the red maiden to his side ; In his gray castle beside the Rhone Five bright summers above them shone ; Decked with his Sovereign's trust, he bore His destinies then to Canada's shore With Sa-ha-wee and little Lucille; and the moon That saw them drop anchor, her beautiful boon O'er the brow of the night had ceased scarcely to spread E'er the blood of the first was thus ruthlessly shed. XXX. And now too the fate of Lavergne ! Lucille Torn from him ! his over-wrought senses reel. But hark ! on his ear a pealing swell ; The neighboring Eecollets' vesper-bell ! And soon, through the open casement, s 18 Fkontbnac. Comes like tte blessing of peace along ; Pouring on tis heart like balm, Spreading a delicious calm, Hushing every thought of pain, " Mary Mother ! " swelled the strain. " Mary Mother ! from thy dwelling Look with soft and smiling eye ! Us, thy humble suppliants telling Thou dost watch us from the sky. Ever be thy presence near us ! Ever o'er us be thy care ! Mother of Him who perished ! hear us ! Mary Mother, list our prayer. " Honored above all, yet lowly Bend the sweetness of thy brow, Mary Mother ! Virgin Holy ! On thy waiting children now, Let thy smile, sweet Mother ! cheer us ! To our souls thy blessing bear ! Mother of Him who perished ! hear us ! Mary Mother ! list our prayer." He glanced without — the splendid moon Was climbing to her gorgeous noon ; The massive church and convent bright Reared their tall summits in her light ; Whilst on the court the castle laid The sharp cut blackness of its shade ; The sentry still with measured stride Frontenac. 19 Passed and repassed the portal wide ; All, all was beauty, liglit and peace, He felt Ms feverish throbbing cease. " Mary Mother ! " seemed to bear Still upon the balmy air ; Now to rise along the sky. Now to tremble from on high ; Falling, swelling, echoing round, Till the moonlight changed to sound ; Sound that told of heaven above ; Sound that told of guardian love ; Off from his bosom rolled the gloom. The wrath, the anguish, the despair ; And in that still and lonely room The stern old soldier knelt in prayer. END or CANTO FIRST. CANTO SECOND. THE IROQUOIS. THE CANADIAN SPRING. THE PEACE-BELT. ON-ON-DAH-GAH. THE AT-0-TA-HO. THE ROBIN. THE MESSAGE. QUEBEC. THE CALUMET. THE TALK. OAE'TO SECOND. THE lEOQUOIS. WENTY-rOTJE years ! a fleeting span In the fleeting career of man, Twenty-four years have passed along In the flow of my humble song. II. Oh the Eagle is swift when he sweeps from his height, With his wing to the wind, and his eye to the light, Darting on, darting on through his empire of air. With nought to oppose him — his pathway to share; But the king of the sky would have drooped on his way E'er his wing could have measured the Iroquois sway. The League — the proud summit had clambered at length. Sought so long by their firm banded wisdom and strength; Their Long House extended now, spacious and high. The branches its rafters, its canopy, sky. From the grand Mountain Kiver's * full oceanward bed, To where its great bosom Ontario spread. * The Hndson, called in old clironicles The Kiver of the Mountains. The Iroquois name is Co-ha-ta-te-yah. 24 Frontenac, The fierce Adirondaeks liad fled from their wrath, The Hurons been swept from their merciless path ; Around, the Ottawas, like leaves had been strown ; And the lake of the Eries sat silent and lone. The Lenape, lords once of valley and hill, Made women, bent low at their conquerors' will; By the far Mississippi, the Illini shrank When the trail of the Toetoise was seen on the bank ; On the hills of New England the Pequod turned pale, When the howl of the Wolf swelled at night in the gale ; And the Cherokee shook in his green smiling bowers, When the foot of the Bear stamped his carpet of flowers. III. Death, death to the tribes that now lingered behind When the Iroquois young men came on like the wind. The forests were filled with afiright and despair When the whoops of the braves keenly rolled on the air; They looked — at their frown the whole region grew black ; They rose — and their way was the hurricane's track. IV. Stern Frontenac saw, from the walls of Quebec, This flood from the woods dashing on without check. His forts were surrounded, his outposts were burned, French blood he saw flowing wherever he turned. Now here, and now there, as clouds flash in their strife. Was the dart of thefoeman, the flash of their knife; The hunter, whilst tracking the Hudson Bay snow In search of the ermine, sank under their blow ; The Iroquois. 25 The settler whilst plying his ax in the wood, At the skirts of Quebec, dyed the earth with his blood ; The bateauman, pushing his craft to its goal Up the swift Cataraqui,* fell dead at his pole 5 The sentry, whilst guarding Fort Frontenac's wall By Ontario's waters, felt death in the ball ; The fur trader, skimming with blanket and bead The Lake of the Hurons, was followed to bleed ; Blood crimsoned the earth, and cries burthened the air. Until Frontenac, lashed into maddening despair, Kaged round like the lion foes gird in a ring. His mane bristling fierce, yet in doubt where to spring. Here opening his roar and there glancing his eye, With the circle still growing more threatening and nigh. The proudest of all in the hostile array Was young f Dawn of Morning, the Red of the Day, The League's At-a-ta-ho ! the boldest in fight ! The wisest in council ! in form the most bright ! The fleetest of foot, the most skilled in the chase ! The glory and boast of the Iroquois race ! Day after day to fierce Frontenac's ear Was the name of the chieftain borne loudly by fear ; With the rush of the blast trod the Brave on his path, Slaughter and flame were the marks of his wrath ; In silence of midnight his war-whoop arose ; In brightness of noonday were stricken his blows; * The St. Lawrence in the Iroquois tongne. t Thn-ren-Be-rah in Iroquois. In the On-on-da-ga language The Dawn of Day. 26 Fkontbnac. Woe to the French ! for a demon seemed sent On its way of dark horrors wherever he went ; Woe to the French ! for the hatchet he hore Wearied not, spared not, streamed ever with gore ; Woe to the French ! for their ramparts of stone Saved them from utter destruction alone. THE CANADIAN SPRING. VI. 'Twas May ! the Spring with magic bloom Leaped up from Winter's frozen tomb. Day lit the river's- icy mail ; The bland warm rain at evening sank ; Ice fragments dashed in midnight's gale ; The moose at morn the ripples drank. The yacht, that stood with naked mast In the locked shallows motionless When sunset fell, went curtseying past As breathed the morning's light caress. The woodman, in the forest deep, At sunrise heard with gladdening thrill Where yester-eve was gloomy sleep, The brown rossignol's carol shrill ; Where yester-eve the snowbank spread The hemlock's twisted roots between. He saw the coltsfoot's golden head Rising from mosses plump and green ; The Canadian Spring. • 27 Whilst all around were budding trees, And mellow sweetness filled the breeze. A few days passed along, and brought More changes as by magic, wrought. With plumes were tipped the beechen sprays ; The birch long dangling tassels showed; The oak still bare, but in a blaze Of gorgeous red the maple glowed ; With clusters of the purest white Cherry and shadbush charmed the sight Like spots of snow the boughs among ; And showers of strawberry blossoms made Rich carpets in each field and glade Where day its kindliest glances flung. And air too hailed Spring's joyous sway; The bluebird warbled clear and sweet ; Then came the wren with carols gay, The customed roof and porch to greet ; The mockbird showed its varied skill ; At evening moaned the whippoorwill. Type of the Spring from Winter's gloom ! The butterfly new being found ; Whilst round the pink may-apple's bloom Gave myriad drinking bees their sound. Great fleeting clouds th^ pigeons made ; When near her brood the hunter strayed With trailing limp the partridge stirred ; Whilst a quick feathered spangle shot Rapid as thought from spot to spot Showing the fairy hummingbird. 28- Frontenac. THE PEACE-BELT. VII. In tte same room wtere Frontenac stern Heard tlie loss of Lucille and tte death of Lavergne. Twenty-four rapid years ago ; In ttis same room where his footsteps bent To and fro, to and fro ; Over his visage shades came and went ; Now thought in his wrinkles crouched low like a snake, Now venomous fury all up and awake, Now death-like pallor, now crimson glow. Those years have dimmed his eye's quick flame. Whitened his brow, and bent his frame. For more than the threescore-and-ten had been given, Whether in favor or anger, by Heaven, Within these years had the staff of command Been wielded by another's hand, But once more at his sovereign's word. O'er Canada's destinies stood he lord. VIII. To and fro, to and fro, Frontenac strode through light and shade Hastily, heavily, still and slow, As thought or passion within him swayed. Now, chafing fierce, and treading high. Like a roused lion in his den ; The Peace-belt. 29 Now, like the panther creeping nigh The hunter slumbering in the glen. He ! governor of the province ! he The sport of Iroquois enmity ! He clenched his teeth, and his sword half drew, Whilst darkened his brow to a swarthy hue : " Oh, that this Dawn of Morning stood Before me, e'en in his native wood, This aged arm — but slumber pride, 'Twere best to win him to my side." He stamped his foot, " Without that wait ! " A guardsman in his presence bent ; "The Otter* bid attend us straight!" Then on again the stridings went. Tho door reopened ; with a tread Noiseless as snow-flakes in their fall And bowing scarce his haughty head, Near came an Indian grim and tall. With one proud step the noble met This Huron runner of Lorette, Holding a wampum belt in sight. Of braided colors black and white, "List Otter ! take this belt of peace; Rest not till Dawn of Morning's found ; Tell him, we wish the storm to cease ; The hatchet bury in the ground. Tell him, the At-o-ta-ho proud, Forgetting enmity and wrath, * Ta-wen-dali in the Huron tongae. 30 Feontbnao. Should from our sky sweep every cloud, Should clear all briers from off our path. Tell him to seek this lodge of stone, Where oft the council fire has shone ; That Yon-non-de-yoh asks a talk The tree of peace between to set, Beneath to smoke the calumet, And wipe from blood the tomahawk !" ON-ON-DAH-GAH. IX. The sunset, from his rainbow throne. On On-on-dah-gah Hollow shone. A double ring of palisade Enclosed within one-half its bounds A round-topped Indian village, made Of mats and branches ; scores of mounds Told that the other yielded space To the thrice hallowed burial-place j Thence maize, ris'n newly, spread each way, (Save where the usual ball-green lay). The earth-domes tipped with golden glow ; The whole shaped like the Indian bow By the curved forest, and a stream That stretched below its sunset gleam. X. Along the castle's beaten square. Displaying marks of skill and care. On-on-dah-gah. 31 The famoTis Temple of the Glow* Extended its long log-built frame ; Shrining with the Sacred Flame, Whose star it never ceased to show. Type of the ancient league that bound The five Ked Nations into one, Ages had seen its light oast round Successive forms of sire and son In countless councils bearing part : The Feast of Union every year Renewing by the radiance clear The tie in each confederate's heart. XI. Ever on high the smoke-cloud streamed. In summer's sun it richly gleamed ; Against stern winter's sky of gray In wreaths condensed and pale it lay j In midnight's hushed and solemn gloom It touched the heavens with sable plume ; Like ocean's surges wild it cast Its rolling fragments on the blast ; And pointed upward deep and proud Toward the black frowning thundercloud. XII. All eyes, but one, were barred the Flame, Save when the Feast of Union came ; And if the portal oped perchance. Or, through some crevice, streaks of red * Tcar-jis-ta-yo in Iroquois. 6 32 Feontenao. Broke out, away was turned the glance, Quick from the precincts passed the tread. XIII. Unceasing sustenance it found Prom the vast forests spread around. The boy had seen it with awed sight ; It shone upon his locks of white ; Still glowed its undiminished light When death its trophy won ; Another generation passed. And still the ruddy gleams were cast, Unwasted as the sun. XIV. A priestess watched with tireless care That the pure splendor of the fire Should never, day or night, expire. And always was her presence there. The At-o-ta-ho's mother — she Cherished with pride the dignity To keep alive the blaze ; And, save for him, her heart had not A thought or wish beyond the spot So sacred to her gaze. XV. Once every year a glowing brand. Whose sparkles from the Flame had birth, Was borne by *Spark of Sunlight's hand. * To-na-sa-ha in Iroquois. The At-o-ta-ho. 33 To every On-on-dah-gaL. hearth ; And there again the wigwam-fire, For this end suffered to expire, At the brand's touch its radiance threw The hearth thus sacred made anew. Emblem how all is cold and black When Hah-wen-ne-yo's smile is o'er, And then how warm and bright, when back Flashes his glorious glance once more. Thence through the Long House went the tread Of the gray priest, the brand made red By the whirled wheel, and everywhere Again he made the dark hearths bright With the fire emblem, whilst the air Rang with the usual festal rite. THE AT-O-TA-HO. XVI. Upon the square's opposing side The At-o-ta-ho's lodge arose ! Its domed shape also, greater pride And skill displaying far than those On either side the space that flanked, And into ways broad trodden ranked, Each warrior's totem rudely cut Above the porch of every hut. With narrow transverse lanes between. Till the slant pickets closed the scene. 34 Feontenac. XVII. The entrance of the lodge before Hung a gigantic panther skin, — Spoil of the At-o-ta-ho's might Won in a desperate mountain fight, — While beaver furs the earthen floor With delicate softness robed within. The walls with deerskins were o'erspread. White as the snow the lake-marsh shed. Impending from moose-antlers, shone The League's great Calumet, its stem Plumed like the feathery diadem The At-o-ta-ho on his throne Of branches in the square displayed. When for the Union Feast arrayed. XVIII. His own rich pipe was hung below. Its bowl and stem one general glow With thickly pictured tints of red, Telling of actions stern and dread. On one side was the bearskin couch. Above it his fusee and pouch ; Around were ranged the war-club strong And curved, with its wrist-looping thong ; The bow with deeds all over dyed. The flint-head arrows at its side; Leggings of crimson, mantle felts; The At-o-ta-ho. 35 Snowy and purple wampum-belts; Moccasins quilled in rainbow hue; Broad sinewed snow-slioes; girdles blue; Sharp scalping-knives and hatchets keen ; And Feast-Crown rich in feathery sheen ; Whilst from the floor a sapling sprung With human scalps upon it strung ; Age's gray locks, long woman's hair, Childhood's and manhood's blended there. XIX. No wife the warrior's wigwam shared, His venison or his maize prepared ; No gentle accent welcomed him When from the chase came weary limb; No soft hand bound his wounds when back Returned from battle's bloody track; Sweet woman's eye — that household star, Driving all household gloom afar — Within his bleak walls never shone ; The At-o-ta-ho lived alone. XX. And yet more bright each maiden's glance When moved his figure in the dance ; More eager bent each listening ear When rose his war-song high and clear; Each maiden's tongue was loud to tell His feats, so bold, so terrible. The foemen slain, the castles won. Within the frequent war-path done. 36 Feontbnac. XXI. When through the ways and lanes he went, Dark sparkling eyes were on him bent; Soft hearts beat wheresoe'er he trod ; Sweet cheeks blushed sweeter at his nod ; For as the League's young men beyond In deeds, in beauty was he too ; But yet affection's gentle bond The graceful warrior never knew. He — the proud At-o-ta-ho — kept No thoughts within his heart for love; His spirit with the eagle swept, It cowered not to the -cooing dove. JISKOKO. XXII. Still for that nature stern and high, One loveliest of the maiden train, In secret heaved the burning sigh, In secret felt the tender pain. Her mother, captive in some strife. In youth had been a white man's wife. Then, hurried to a bloody grave By a fierce On-on-dah-gah Brave, Who said she had forgot her pride To slumber by a Frenchman's side ; And in another war-path brought The infant to her tribe, that she. The Eobin. 37 Though with the hated blood so fraught, An On-on-dah-gah still should be. xxin. Since, eighteen springs their blossoms sweet Had twined around The Kobin's * feet. Her large soft elk-like eye the race Of the Ho-de-no-sonne showed, While on her sunny cheek the trace Of her pale lineage — rose-like — glowed. She followed ever with her eye The At-o-ta-ho passing by; Whene'er his look was on her turned, Her downcast brow with blushes burned ; In the wild dance she marked his grace, Her whole roused soul within her face ; Whene'er he struck the battle-post, She hung delighted on his boast ; When on the war-path stern he went, She frequent hid to weep the while ; But when his scalp-whoop high he sent, Keturning, oh ! how bright her smile ; And the glad maidens she would leave, As if for very joy to grieve. Then when she joined the praising throng, Amid the tinkling Indian lute. Or the loud swell of joyous song. To him, she, she alone was mute. * Ji8-ko-ko in On-on-da-ga. 38 Frontbnac. Yet there, e'en there, so seeming cold. The sigh and blush their story told. But though the At-o-ta-ho blind To her deep love appeared, his tone And look were ever, ever kind. Telling warm friendship held the throne. XXIV. Thus, while The Robin loved in vain, She wildly was beloved again, By Ko-lah of fierce desperate mood. Whose fiery will and vengeful blood Caused her to shudder and turn pale, Whene'er he told his hated tale. XXV. His sire The Raven was a Brave, Noted, yet to vile passions slave. Treacherous, blood-thirsty as a wolf, Yet full of deep deceit and guile, A calm look veiled the boiling gulf, Murder was hidden in his smile. But still, when on the war-path rushed His feet, so just his after boast. All blame was in his praises hushed, The wretch was in the warrior lost. *f ThIb Message. 39 THE MESSAaS. XXVI. The sun his journey bright had bent So low, a level ray he sent, Tipping the forests with the glow, While twilight gathered gray below. XXVII. Upon the pleasant outside green Two shouting bands, the gates between. With their broad rackets, sent on high The ball now soaring to the sky. Now falling, to again be caught And sent aloft with speed of thought. Ever upon its whizzing wing As though it were a living thing. XXVIII. Here, through the alleys, warriors bore Short scarlet cloaks their shoulders o'er. Arrow and bow in either hand. Yet wearing nought of war's command; There, others strove in mimic fray, Wrenching the fancied scalp away. Casting their tomahawks about. And quavering war-whoops pealing out. T 40 Frontenac. XXIX. Boys also in the mocking strife Whirled the dull hatchet, aimed the knife ; Whooped shrill, the scalp in gestures rent, From the twanged bow the arrow sent, Or, with strained strength, and flying feet, Shot on, the distant goal to greet, While with their pipes the old men sat. Each at his entrance on his mat. XXX. Upon the straggling trees, that flung Their boughs outside, upon the maize. Infants in their lashed back-boards hung Asleep, or with dull patient gaze ; While grouped their mothers gossiping. The corn to golden powder pounding. Drawing the water from the spring. Or the bright kettle's* flame surrounding. XXXI. Over the river's surface flew Youths in the rapid birch canoe ; Or floated for their finny prey; Or lurked, the feeding duck to slay. * Ku-na-tah In Onondaga. The Message. 41 XXXII. Suddenly tirough the maize, vrtere led A pathway to the neighb'ring shades, A stranger's form was seen to tread. Approaching toward the palisades. And lifting, as he came, on high Wampum of black and snowy dye. A ringing whoop of warning swelled From those the figure that beheld. The ball plunged down, and lay in sleep ; The mock fights ceased, ceased whoop and leap; The warriors checked their sauntering strides ; Sought the canoes the river side. XXXIII. The comer was an Indian tall. And on him curiously gazed all ; Grave through the palisades he passed, And paused within the square at last. XXXIV. There followed too the village crowd; And, though the warriors silent gazed, The women, boys, and children loud Their voices in enquiry raised. But mid the wild and chattering din, The grim and frowning panther skin Of Dawn of Morning's lodge was reared, And at the threshold he appeared. 42 Fronienac. XXXT. Of beauty higt and rare was he; A deer-skin shirt of white was spread Close round his frame from neck to knee, Meeting his leggings richly red. Delicate were his features, yet A haughty soul was in them set ; The customary paint in trace Of red and black was o'er his facej And while a slender form he reared, Lithe as a panther's it appeared. XXXVI. Upon his heart his hand he pressed, And to the stranger bowed his crest ; Then to the tall pipe-bearer* said. Who near him stood, " My Sachems call !" Next to the stranger, " Come ! " his tread Bent toward the palisaded wall. Where the long council-house appeared Beneath a row of hemlocks reared. XXXVII. They entered, soon the Sachems came ; The circle crouched upon the floor j The pipe its customed circuit bore ; And then the stranger reared his frame, ♦Ha-ya-ao-ya, or aid to the At-o-ta-ho. The Message. 43 Extended in his brawny hand The wampum, and in accents bland To Dawn of Morning said, who sat In front upon his tufted mat, " Ta-wen-deh Yon-non-de-yoh's talk To the great At-o-ta-ho brings ; He seeks to plant the tree of Peace, Water it, bid its boughs increase, And then to hide the tomahawk Under the pleasant shades it flings, And hard the earth above to tread, Until it is like rock o'erspread ! Then round the tree lock Friendship's chain. And never let it break again. ' Great At-o-ta-ho come ! ' says he, ' To my stone lodge upon the rock, And there together will we lock This chain unbroke and bright to be, Until the grass shall cease to grow, Until the waters cease to flow !'" XXXVIII. A guttural quick " Yo-hah ! " awoke From the dark ring ; still no one spoke ; Once more the pipe breathed round its smoke, Then Dawn of Morning rose ; His eye each Sachem's countenance Sought, and each Sachem to his glance Said " Grood," and his repose Vanished into a lofty air ; 44 Feontbnac. His head lie reared, his arm he spread, " Good words speaks Yon-non-de-yoh" said, " The A<^o-ta-ho will be there ! " QUEBEC. XXXIX. The fresh May morning's earliest light, From where the richest hues were blended. Lit on Cape Diamond's towering height Whose spangled crystals glittered bright, Thence to the castle roof descended, And bathed in radiance pure and deep The spires and dwellings of the steep. Still downward crept the strengthening rays; The lofty crowded roofs below And Cat-a-ra-qui caught the glow, Till the whole scene was in a blaze. The scattered bastions — walls of stone With bristling lines of cannon crowned, Whose muzzles o'er the landscape frowned Blackly through their embrazures — shone. Point Levi's woods sent many a wreath Of mist, as though hearths smoked beneath, Whilst heavy folds of vapor gray Upon St. Charles, still brooding, lay ; The basin glowed in splendid dyes Grlassing the glories of the skies, And chequered tints of light and shade The banks of Orleans' Isle displayed. Quebec. 45 XL. To active life the scene awoke ; A brigantine her canvas spread, And as her sailor-songs outbroke Down toward the southern channel sped. A courier in his bark canoe From Skan-na-da-rio's boundless blue, Measured his oars, as swift along He glided, to his frontier song ; And a bateau forth slowly slipped Its little wooden anchors tripped. The boatmen at their poles low bending Their chorus in rude music blending. XLI. Quebec's great thoroughfare within Kose to the usual stir and din : With flowing plume, and mantle gay. The mounted noble went his way ; Chaunting, with crucifix on high, A train of monks swept slowly by ; With pike and corslet, grim and scarred, And measured step, on strode a guard. Couriers de bois, loud chattering, went Beneath their packs of peltry bent ; The half-blood scout, with footstep light, Passed glancing round his rapid sight ; Hurons quick bore, with loping tread, Rich beavers toward the trader's shed ; 46 Feontbnac. Woodmen with axes in tteir hands, Hunters with hounds and rifles long, And rough bateaumen, grouped in bands, On sauntering, swelled the motley throng. XLII. Suddenly rose a murmur through The busy street ; a word passed on ; Eyes glanced around ; together drew In groups the crowd ; with visage wan At doors and windows mothers pressed Their screaming infants to their breast ; Here, with clenched teeth men grasped the knife. As if to rush on desperate strife; Whilst others, there, cast looks of fear On wives and children shuddering near ; What word was that, so quick had made The sun-bright scene so dark with shade ! ' Twas Dawn of Morning ! uttered now In whispers deep, with cowering brow. And spoken now in anger loud With hand tight clasped and bearing proud. " Ha ! here he comes ! " exclaimed the scout, " See how he throws his glance about ! " " The dog! here, midst us, in Quebec ! " Muttered the noble, sudden check Giving his steed, " as proud his feet As though the forest leaves they beat ; He seems to beard us with that tread. And how he lifts his haughty head ! " Quebec. 47 " The demon ! see his glittering knife ! " Murmured a female casting look On her pale child who by her shook, " Christ save us from this murderous strife ; '' " St. Francis, keep it far away ! " Exclaimed a passing Recollet. " Ho, comrade ! " a bateauman said, " How feels the scalp upon your head ! Creeps it, as on that stormy night We tugged upon St. Peter's lake When the moon showed with fitful light That fearful savage in our wake ? " " Milet ! dost thou remember Roux, Scalped by this fiend in his canoe ? " A courier asked, his bended back Freeing an instant from his pack : "Ashes are where Moyne's cabin stood, And his the torch that waked the fire, His hatchet drank Le Renault's blood. His stake saw La Montayne expire, The time our village in the dell A prey to his wild fury fell I " A rough Carignan settler said. In a low voice of rage and dread. To a fur-trader at his shed j " Allaire ! I'd give a year to strike That haughty Indian with my pike ! " A youthful guardsman fiercely cried, To an old veteran by his side, " Hush Merle ! the Calumet behold. Besides there tread his followers bold ! " 8 48 Frontenac. Suci sounds proclaimed the warrior's way, Eising and sinking as iis feet Passed crouching hut and building gray, That walled the long and winding street. THE CALUMET. XLIII. On came the At-o-ta-ho's tread, Leading the file of his tawny band; Like the crest of the elk rose his haughty head. While high he lifted in his hand That sign of peace, the calumet, So sacred to the Indian soul, With its stem of reed and its dark red bowl, Flaunting with feathers white, yellow, and green. Which seemed as if jewels were over them set, As they glanced to the sun in their changeable sheen. XLIV. Courage that danger ne'er disturbed. And a proud spirit never curbed. Were throned upon his forehead bold. And in his dark wild glance were told. His usual close white robe he wore. Its hue in emblems nearly lost; A short fusee his shoulders crossed ; His head the bristling scalp-lock bore ; The Talk. 49 A heron plume of snow hung o'er ; Memorial of that bird that swept Its way to Hah-yoh-wont-hah dread, And whose pure plumage long was kept To deck the bravest warrior's head. Behind, his mat hung, richly dyed. And dangling loosely at his side, His pouch of rabbit skin was seen ; His limbs bright crimson leggings graced, Worked moccasins his feet encased. And in the sunshine gleaming keen. His hatchet o'er his mat was slung, WhUe his long knife before him hung. XLV. His warriors also bore fusee. Hatchet and knife, with bearing proud ; But not a sign showed enmity, "Hai ! hai ! " they sounded oft and loud. Thus down St. Louis' street, that led To the Place d'Armes all slowly sped. And there they checked their lofty tread. THE TALK. XLVI. The castle's council chamber, long And narrow, raftered low and strong ; On a raised chair sat Frontenao, A score of nobles at his back, 50 Feontbnac. While pikemen in two rows before Stretcted to the ttrestold of the door. XL VII- Tte sunshine through the casement streamed, Filling with golden glow the room, On corselet, casque, and pikehead gleamed, And danced on sword, fusee, and plume. But the wide portal open flew ; Five forms strode up the avenue, Bj the grim bristling pikemen made. The file the At-o-ta-ho leading. The rest close after, each a brave. In a brave's weapons each arrayed. Seeming to see nought, stern and grave, Yet subtly every object heeding. XL VII. As Dawn of Morning slowly passed, Around his eagle look he cast. Smiling with scorn as pike and gun Flashed all around him in the sun. No pause he made, until his tread Placed him two paces from the chair Where Frontenac, with kindling air. Sat gazing; then in broken speech, While swept his arm a haughty reach. The youthful warrior said : " Great Yon-non-de-yoh whispered ' Come ! ' To Dawn of Morning : he is here. The Talk. 51 E'en in great Yon-non-de-yoh's home ; The At-o-ta-ho knows not fear, For a great brave is Dawn of Day : What doth my Canada father say?" XLIX. A breathless paiise ; at length 'twas broke By Frontenac, as thus he spoke : " My Sachem, dwelling o'er the sea. To his red children speaks through me — Why should the Ongue-Honwee host Against me strike the battle-post ! Why should my young men vainly cry For succor at their burning stake ! Why should my lightnings round them wake. Bidding their boldest warriors die ! Why should our pathway with a cloud The brave Ho-de-no-sonne shroud ! I listen as the west wind comes, Its errand in my ear it hums ; It says — I bear the shriek and groan From distant Missillimakinak To Yon-non-de-yoh's lodge of stone, A dreary, long, and bloody track. These things have riven my heart with pain. But let us now make bright the chain. And smoke the Calumet together, While on our path will rest the glow. The soft warm glow of Summer weather. 52 Feontenac. Not Winter's chilling robes of snow. This belt preserves my words ! We'll plant the peace-tree deeply now, So that its shade shall steep each brow ; And no more let the fires of wrath Be kindled in the battle-path By deeds or singing-birds. See, Dawn of Morning ! yon bright pile Of gifts will make thy warriors smile ! Fusees, to bring the fleet moose low ; Rackets, to hunt him in the snow ; Blankets, within whose downy fold. The sires can brave the bitterest cold ; Sashes, to bind the robes of skin ; Beads for the tawny moccasin j Trinkets to make the squaws more bright ; Paints fitting warriors for the fight ; Powder and ball, to scathe with flame The foe, and heap the lodge with game j Leggings that match the ruddy blaze ; Kettles to boil the golden maize; And look ! let Dawn of Morning spread Round him this mantle rich and red. Worthy an At-o-ta-ho's sight, Whose deeds have made his name so bright." The warrior stirred not from his place, But reared his tall light form more tall, -The Talk. 53 And said, while letting, with free grace, Upon his arm the mantle fall : — "When, in his snowy-winged canoe, First Walking Thunder* crept to view. On Cat-a-ra-qui's flood. The Adirondack dogs the knife Against my people held in strife, Red ever with their hlood. So by the oldest sires avouched. In winter, in the lodges crouched ; And though those dogs now trembling, feel The scornful stampings of our heel, •Then did our fathers know their wrath, And die within their bloody path. Beside that broad and lovely lake Where dwells the prophet of the winds. Who, if no offering mortals make Passing his lodge of rock, unbinds His rushing fury o'er the wave. And whelms them in a watery grave ; Herding with those base dogs, the fires Of Walking Thunder fiercely flashed Against the bosoms of our sires. And down to earth their bravest dashed. Sudden, as when the lightning's bound Cleaves the proud hemlock to the ground. They made our trembling warriors bow. Warriors who only bowed before To Hah-wen-ne-yo ; from the roar * Champlain. 54 Frontbnac. And flash of Walking Thunder's wrath, Their feet fle-w o'er a briery path, And long they veiled their humble brow. LI. " But the wise Charistooni * came, And gave the dust where slept the flame To our awed sires ; from that bright hour. Their scalp-locks loftier, loftier, rose. They climbed the mountain of their power. They poured destruction on their foes ; Each warrior's lodge with scalps was filled. We swam within the blood we spilled. Not only Adirondacks bowed, When o'er them passed our tempest-cloud. But Huron, Erie, Illini, Ottawa, Pequod, bent the knee. Until turned every red man pale. Where'er was seen our stealthy trail ; And where our wandering footsteps led. The earth was strown, like leaves, with dead. LII. " Then the good Charistooni placed The chain in Corlear's friendly hands ; We since, heart linked, the game have chased, * The Dntcli were so called hj the Iroquoia. The Tale. 55 And still the tree we planted stands, This belt preserves my talk ! Oft has the At-o-ta-ho smoked The pipe with Corlear, his white brother, And oft have we the smiles invoked Of Hah-wen-ne-yo on each other ; Deep lies our tomahawk ! If Yon-non-de-yoh, then, the chain Would place in Dawn of Morning's grasp. And make it free from every stain, The links must Corlear also clasp. And Yon-non-de-yoh, with his hand Upon his heart, by Corlear stand, A brother." — " Nay, it cannot be ! " Thus broke in fiery Frontenae : " The mighty sachems o'er the sea Have dug the hatchet from the ground. The knife must gleam, the war-whoop sound ; Ne'er Yon-non-de-yoh bends the knee. Or from the war-path turns him back ! " " Then ! '' and the At-o-ta-ho dashed The mantle down, with eye that flashed. And spurned it with disdain ; " Then shall the hatchet still be red. And still the sky with clouds be spread ; See ! Dawn of Morning's scornful tread Is on the broken chain ! " " This to my face ! " cried Frontenac, Upstarting, " Seize him I" — In his track The savage turned — one bound he made, 9 56 Feontbnac. His hatchet gleamed, and low was laid A pikeman on the floor j Another bound, another blow, Beneath his feet another foe Was gasping in his gore ; A third, and, with a war-whoop shrill. That pierced all ears with deafening thrill, He vanished through the door; Over his tribesmen fierce, who stood Stern, fighting, till they fell in blood. Nobles and pikemen pour. Across the court the chieftain flies, One struggle more — the sentry dies; Haste, haste, thy need is sore ! Ope, ope the sally port ! thy flight Thy foemen press with stern delight, Thy warriors are before. Joy, joy ! the sally port is spread ! And, with loud whoop and winged tread, He plunges midst his tribesmen red. And with quick words he points ahead — All vanish from the square; Up through St. Louis' street they dash, Corslet and pike behind them flash, And shots at rapid periods craslv, But onward still they bear. All, wondering, view the warriors flee, In their left hands the clutched fusee. The hatchet in their right, Bateauman, hunter, courier, scout. Show their surprise by clamorous shout, The Talk. 57 Women shriek wild with fright; Yet scarce is marked the tawny crowd Before, like passage of a cloud, They shoot athwart the sight ; But ere they gain the walls, a band Of hunters in their pathway stand, Poured from a little inn at hand. And deadly fire throw in ; Hatchets and knives and wood-blades flash. Fusees and rifles blend their crash. Whoop, shout, and scream their din ; Bosom to bosom, eye to eye. Pale-face and red-skin sink to die, Blood gushes through the street ; Near and more near the armed array Of guardsmen come to grasp their prey ; Still cut, still cut, wild braves ! your way ! Still urge, still urge your feet ! Haoh ! * Hah-wen-ne-yo's smile is cast Upon them yet — they reach at last The walls — the sentries low they bring, The massive gates they open swing. Nought now their way retards. And turning, Dawn of Morning throws His hatchet with a look that glows In glaring fury at his foes ; Then, as dash near the guards. Vanishes with his dusky band Amid the tangled woods at hand. * An exclamation in IroqnoiB, expreBBive of joy or triumph. END or OANTO SECOND. CAl!fTO THIRD. THE WAR-SONG. THE HUNTEBS. THE BATEAU. THE CARIGNAK VILLAGE. THE BRIGANTINE. CASTO THIRD. THE WAK-SONG. OOH ! hoob. ! how tte panther springs, As flies the deer on affrighted wings ! Hooh ! hooh ! how he rends his prey ! So will the On-on-dah-gahs slay ! Hooh ! whoop ! how he rends his prey ! So will the On-on-dah-gahs slay ! " Hooh ! hooh ! how the eagle screams, As the blood of the fawn from his talons streams ! Hooh ! hooh ! how the woods ring out ! So wUl the On-on-dah-gahs shout ! Hooh ! whoop ! how the woods ring out ! So wUl the On-on-dah-gahs shout ! " n. Thus the next morning that beheld The At-o-ta-ho safe again At On-on-dah-gah, loudly swelled The war-song in its angriest strain. 62 Pbontbnac. Kevenge on Yon-non-de-yoli ! higt Went up the fierce and bloody cry ; Kevenge on all his race ! their ire Flashed into furious, frenzied fire ; Eevenge ! revenge ! it filled the day, It e'en disturbed the midnight's sway. Its sound the At-o-ta-ho swelled, The echo wild his warriors yelled. The old men, women, children, all Blended their voices in the call, Eevenge ! revenge ! till every breast Had but that passion for its guest. III. And now round flame and war-post red Within the castle's crowded square. The wrathful At-o-ta-ho led His braves, and raised his chauntings there. Joined by their tones, whilst every bound Beat to the song with muffled sound. 1. " Hooh ! hooh 1 how the sharpened knife Will gleam again in the war-path's strife ! Hooh ! hooh 1 like the lightning red, The On-on-dah-gahs will flash in dread ! Hooh ! whoop 1 like the lightning red. The On-on-dah-gahs will dart in dread ! The "Wae-Song. 63 2. " Hooh ! hooh ! how tte hungry fire Will wrap the French in its leaping ire ! Hooh ! hooh ! like the torrent's flood, The On-on-dah-gahs will rush in blood ! Hooh ! whoop ! like the torrent's flood, The On-on-dah-gahs will rush in blood ! " Breaking the song, above his head The At-o-ta-ho flashed a sweep With his bright hatchet ; down it sped, And in the post was buried deep. The next one gave a piercing yell. And down his hatchet also fell. Another struck — another — shrill Whoop upon whoop resounding, till Blows rained upon the post so fast, In fragments round 'twas strown at last. IV. The At-o-ta-ho clutched his axe And shook it high with fiercest gaze. Then — scores of warriors in his tracks — Rushed through the palisades, the maize, And bounding to the water-side Where, from the soft white bass-wood hollowed, Three war canoes with withes were tied, Entered the first; his warriors followed 10 64 Fkontenac. Till all were filled, and the furious ttrong Witli flashing paddles then left the shore, Skimming the river with whoop and song Upon their war-path of flame and gore. THE HUNTEES. V. 'Twas one of June's delicious eves ; Sweetly the sunset rays were streaming, Here tangled in the forest leaves, There on the Cataraqui gleaming. A broad glade lay beside the flood Where tall dropped trees and bushes stood. A cove its semicircle bent Within, and through the sylvan space, Where lay the light in splintered trace, A moose, slow grazing, went ; Twisting his long, curved, flexile lip Now the striped moosewood's leaves to strip. And now his maned neck, short and strong. Stooping, between his fore-limbs long Stretched widely out, to crop the plant And tall rich grass that clothed the haunt. On moved he to the basin's edge. Mowing the swordflag, rush, and sedge, And, wading short way from the shore Where spread the waterlilies o'er A pavement green with globes of gold. Commenced his favorite feast to hold. The Hunters. 65 VI. So still the scene — the river's lapse Along its course gave hollow sound, With some raised wavelet's lazy laps On log and stone around ; And the crisp noise the moose's cropping Made, with the water lightly dropping From some lithe, speckled, lily stem Entangled in his antlers wide. Thus scattering many a sparkling gem Within the gold-cups at his side. Sudden he raised his head on high, Spread his great nostrils, fixed his eye. Reared half his giant ear-flaps, stood, Between his teeth a half-chewed root, And sidelong on the neighboring wood Let startled glances shoot. Resuming then his stem, once more. He bent, as from suspicion free, His bearded throat the lilies o'er. And cropped them quietly. VII. Minutes passed on in such repose, No sound within the scene arose. Save, as before, the river's tinklings ; The rustling that the feeding moose Made in the lilies, and the sprinklings Each mass of roots he reared let loose ; 66 Frontbnac. But now a rifle cracked — he started, And through the ruffled basin darted, Found quickly the opposing side. And, hoofs loud clicking, left the spot. His frame extended in a wide. Headlong, yet awkward trot ; But scarce an arrow's flight he bore, When burst another quick flat sound, And, with drawn limbs, and gushing gore. He floundered on the ground. Two hunters rushed then from the shade. And while one drew his woodman's blade Across the victim's throat, The other whooped out shrill and keen, That rang along the silent scene In startling, deafening note. VIII. As from their prey they strip the skin. Two other hunters enter in. Bearing a deer with staggering strength. And on the greensward cast their length. Now voices all around are heard. The leaves by hasty feet are stirred. And soon the whole gay hunter band Within the sylvan hollow stand. Casting their wildwood game around Until it thickly strews the ground. The Hunters. 67 IX. Now the golden light has slid From the hemlock's pyramid ; Now the maple's dome is dark, Flashing late with lustrous spark ; And within the solemn woods, Twilight, dusk and shimmering, broods. Soon the pile of sticks and leaves Fire from flint and steel receives, And the flesh, in juicy flakes. Odors rich and pungent makes ; Seated on the pleasant grass, Jest and song the hunters pass ; Then, the rites to hunger paid, Careless every limb is laid On the sweet and dewy glade. XI. " ' Twas a long shot which struck that goose," Says one, " he beat the air so far ! " " Yes," cries another, " and the moose Some caution cost us ; hey, Bizarre ? " " Had he but been that fiend-like boy. The At-o-ta^ho, greater joy," Answered Bizarre, " within would glow ! I saw a wolf, an hour ago, Down in the Wild-cat streamlet's glen, 68 Fkontenac. And his fierce rolling eye was like, I thouglit, to tiat young demon's, when I saw him low Jerandeau strike, Before the Inn of the Canoe, When his wild band came trooping through St. Louis' street, like panthers leaping ; Oh, that an instant brief he stood In my good rifle Bee-flight's keeping, He'd never spill another's blood ! " "Why did not," gay another cried, " Bee-flight bore through him in the strife ? " " As hard as gun e'er did it tried. But fortune favored not ; beside It had to guard its master's life ! " " Well, let the At-o-ta-ho go," A third one said; " we cannot reach His fierce bloodthirsty heart with speech — Come, come, Bizarre, let pleasure flow ! Sing, sing ! the ' Happy Hunters ' swell, We all can trip the chorus well ! " XII. Bizarre hemmed loud, then poured amain, Till the woods rang, his forest strain : — 1. " Happy and free Hunters are we. Free as the winds that roam so wide ; The Hunters. 69 Camping at night, Up with the light, Hunters are happy whatever betide ! Shout out the chorus then. Swing it out louder, men ! Sorrow or care cannot with us abide, Hunters are happy whateyer betide ! " Happy and free Hunters are we, Free as the clouds that above us glide ; Scorning the worst. Hunger and thirst. Hunters are happy whatever betide ! Shout out the chorus then, Swing it out louder, men ! Sorrow or care cannot with us abide. Hunters are happy whatever betide ! " XIII. On pass the hours : the camp-fire bright Steeps the near leaves in bronzing light. And shifting, plays o'er the figures laid. In the generous glow, on the grassy glade. The whetsaw's tinkle, the owl's loud shout, And the ceaseless chime of the frogs, ring out; With the neighboring Cat-a-ra-qui's rush Making profounder the midnight hush. 70 Fkontbnac. XIV. Silent are the sentries sitting ; One feels dozing visions flitting O'er Ms brain, while Fancy teeming, Kiots through the other's dreaming. XV. Creeping, creeping, onward creeping. Toward the sentries, helpless sleeping. Through the gloom Two figures come — Are they wolves upon their way ? Creeping, creeping, on still creeping. Then, like lightning, upward leaping. Fall they on their slumbering prey. XVI. Two flashing blows, two gasps, once more Silence broods for an instant o'er ; Wild forms are then in a circle round The slumbering hunters — a blended sound Of crashing rifles, a whooping bound Of the figures wild, and the camp-fire's ground Is covered with shapes that fall and rise, Else and fall, with shouts and cries Pealing, while savage fury plies Its murderous work : as Bizarre sank low. An ember launched upward a tongue-like glow ; The Bateau. 71 He saw above him, in glimmering trace, The hated, yet feared, At-o-ta-ho's face ; The next, and the swift curved knife is gleaming, His scalp at the belt of the chief is streaming, Out peals the Iroquois' war-song, — their feet In a dance of mad joy the green forest-glade beat. " Hooh ! hooh ! how the panther springs, As flies the deer on affrighted wings I Hooh ! hooh ! how he rends his prey ! So do the On-on-dah-gahs slay ! Hooh ! whoop ! how he rends his prey ! So do the On-on-dah-gahs slay ! " Then Dawn of Morning points before With his red knife, and in the wood Darts with his tawny braves once more For other scenes of woe and blood. THE BATEAU. XVII. Morning is brightening with golden smiles The beautiful " Lake of the Thousand Isles." Scattered all over the green flood lie Islands profuse as the stars in the sky ; Here, scarce yielding a few trees room, There, bearing upward a forest of gloom, 11 72 Fbontbnao. Breaking tte wave, now, in broad expanses, That flashed out like steel in the morning's glances. And now into vistas whose either side Darkened with intermixed shadows the tide. XVIII. A sheldrake by an isle of wood. Within a watery streak was steering. Dipping his green head in the flood. When, quick his bill of yellow rearing, With a loud whiz he flew away, As a gigantic war-canoe Filled with a grim and plumed array Of warriors wild came shooting through ; Amidst them, with his look of pride. Was Dawn of Morning, his keen eye Scanning the tangled shore beside. Till, toward a weeping elm-tree nigh, Which in a thickly foliaged wreath Down to the wave its branches threw. He waved his arm, and underneath Instantly vanished the canoe. XIX. It was not long ere voices gay Broke on the air, and a bateau Moved up the furrowing narrow way With its rough crew in double row. Each bending shoulder strongly bracing Against the pole with struggling strain. The Bateau. 73 Tten, every one his way retracing, To stoop down to the toil again. The long curved craft, the jackets red Of the bent boatmen, gliding, spread In sharp, soft lined, yet shaken trace Upon the water's rippling face. XX. " The sunset's light, I trust," said one, " Antoine, will see our toiling done." " Aye, Vigne, sound sleep this night we win Fort Frontenac's strong walls within." " Much more than we," Vigne answering cried, " Gained the last night — those screams and whoops We heard, though in the distance, tried My manhood, comrades, — deeply droops My heart within me as I think Of those poor hunters that we saw At noon along the river's brink ; For, comrades," and a look of awe He glanced around him, " we all know That Dawn of Morning and his braves Are on the war-path ! " " Be it so," Broke in a third, " we'll not be slaves. We, boatmen, we, to abject fear ; I did not, Vigne, thy whoops e'en hear : Those maringouins ! * swarm on swarm + A little wMte gnat fonna on the banks of the St.Lawrenoe, 74 Fkontenac. Thronged all the night ahout my form; The little white fiends seemed as mad To drink up all the blood I had." " Cease," said Antoine, " the morn, at least, Is bright; we taste it like a feast; I'll sing the boatman's well known air. And you must all the chorus bear." " Push along, boys, push along, boys. Merrily, cheerily push along ; And while our prow makes merry music. We'll too raise the song. We'll too raise the song, my boys. Swift as we push along ; Bach to his pole, boys, bend to each pole, boys. Merrily, cheerily push along; And while the waters ripple round us. We'll too raise the song. " Push along, boys, push along, boys, " Merrily, cheerily" — " Hush ! " said Vigne, " I saw a flash amidst those leaves Beside, as of some weapon keen ! " " Pshaw ! some white birch thy sight deceives," Impatiently another spoke — " On, let the song again be woke ! " " Push along, boys, push along, boys, Merrily, cheerily push along ; The Bateau. 75 And while the wave" — " Stay ! stay the strain ! There is no wind, and yet I see Yon thicket fluttering ! Mark again That gleam. Ha ! from behind this tree I saw a scalp-lock peer ! Beware ! My comrades." Just then on the air Broke crashes quick, with yell on yell From the close banks ; the boatmen fell — Some dead, some on their knees ; once more A volley rings, and from the shore To the bateau fierce figures bound. Swift weapons flash — shrieks, groans, resound. XXI. " Spare ! spare ! great At-cS-ta-ho," cries Vigne, as his throat a warrior grasps; But the knife falls ; in death he gasps His rent scalp swinging to his eyes — Then whoops the At-o-ta-ho keen. The warriors vanish from the scene; And the wild isle its echoes wakes. As forth the savage war-song breaks. " Hooh ! hooh! how the eagle screams. As the blood of the fawn from his talons streams ! Hooh ! hooh ! how the woods ring out ! So do the On-on-dah-gahs shout ! 76 Frontbnac, Hooli ! whoop ! how the woods ring out ! So do the On-on-dah-gahs shout ! " While the bateau with its strewed dead, Now straight, now sidewise, swiftly sped, A face here hanging — there a limb, O'er its stained sides : a picture grim ; Down at the mercy of the flood. Marking its course with trickling blood. THE CARIGNAN VILLAGE. XXII. The sun had vanished — a golden rim Striped the western horizon's wall ; Tho forest arbors were fading dim. Twilight was letting his mantle fall. XXIII. 'Twas a sweet landscape. A village stood In a rough clearing enclosed with wood. Log-built cabins, a palisade, Pierced with two gateways, around arrayed ; Thence to the Cat-a-ra-qui's glass. Were wavelike meadows of velvet grass ; Grain fields growing, and pastures green, The Caeignan Village. 77 Fallows spotted with stumps and black, And forest-ohoppings — a ohoked-up scene, Showing the axe's recent track. All else was a wilderness, thickening to sight, Each moment beneath the first shadows of night. XXIV. Oxen were plodding like snails along To the open gates ; and with careless song The settler was lounging behind ; the bleat Of flocks approaching their folds was sweet. Along the paths of the winding lanes Herd-bells were tinkling in fitful strains. The kine now stalking, now stopping to feed. While frequently neighed some scampering steed. Hunters from woodland avenues came Followed by hounds, and burthened with game ; And from the far hill-lots echoed free The sounding axe and the crashing tree. A sylvan picture, this wildwood land Sketches alone with its rough fresh hand. XXV. Over the brow of a hill that towered Above this landscape — in woods embowered. The shaggy head of a cedar shot In a slanting line from a hollow spot. Tangled with brushwood, and in its breast Deeply his limbs had an Indian pressed; 78 Trontenac. Cautiously, steadfastly, through the green, He drew his eye o'er the village scene, Then gliding down to the hollow, where Each shadowy bush was an Indian's lair. The At-o-ta-ho also found The depths of one of the thickets round. XXVI. A youthful couple beguiled the night, With talk by the social candlelight. " One short year, as man and wife. We, Marie, have skimmed the stream of life ; One short year from to-day : hast thought Of the lovely picture the sunset wrought The eve we wed ? My sire, who then Danced at our glad merry-making, said It put him in mind of the day he wed ! You know he was one of Carignan's men ! And old Lemoyne says, none more brave E'er saw the flag of Carignan wave. There hangs his sabre, all rusty and dull ! I wonder if ever the blade I '11 pull From its steel scabbard ! Ta-wen-deh the scout, I hear, a week since told a few. Within the Inn of the Canoe, At Quebec, that again with the Iroquois out ; That Dawn of Morning, inflamed with wrath From Frontenac's treatment, had taken the path ; And furthermore, Marie, a courier saw. The Carignan Village. 79 Whilst threading the Thousand Isles above With his load of skins, a sight of awe, Where swift on a point the current drove. Dost thou remember the large bateau That stayed at our village two nights ago, With old Antoine, Le Bas, and Vigne, And the rest, with the dance on the starlit green ! Well, there a bateau was, stained with gore. With heads and limbs hung ghastly o'er — Beached on the point : he approached with dread. There lay the crew — our poor boatmen — dead, Scalped and mangled, displaying plain That Iroquois devils his friends had slain. Well, Marie, I'm ready to draw at word, With my father's heart my father's sword ! Hark ! the wind rages, a stormy night ! I trust that to-morrow will rise up bright ! " To-morrow! Ah, folly! Ah, vanity! Who — who can be sure that to-morrow he'll see ! XXVII. Midnight came, in its sablest hue. With clouds on a roaring wind that flew ; Nearer and nearer the dawn of day, Wrapped in its slumber the village lay. XXVIII. From the gusty forests passed Swift approaching shapes at last. 12 80 Frontbnao. Ttey force the gates of the palisade — There stand the dwellings in gloomy shade ; Scatter the Iroquois far and near ; A moment more, and their whoop of fear Peals out, succeeded by crash on crash. As inward their hatchets the frail doors dash ; To his rifle in vain the Carignan flies. The hatchet gleams after — he sinks, he dies ! The daughter is brained as she shrieks in dread, The hairs of the grandsire are steeped in red. Mothers, imploring in anguish, fall. Infants are dashed against threshold and wall. Ah, the young husband ! he starts from his dream ! Ah, the young wife ! she but wakens to scream ! Those whoopings and shriekings, and groans all around ! The Iroquois ! God ! can no refuge be found ! They glance from the casement, wild forms here and there Shoot past, weapons glitter, shots stream through the air ! The husband has drawn forth the sword of his sire. And he stands by the barred door with aspect of fire. While trembling, half frenzied, his Marie is nigh. "Oh, husband ! oh, husband !" her agonized cry; " My brain reels ! oh, Virgin, most holy ! we flee In this time of our need for protection to thee ! Let us hide ! no, the torch will be here too, we'll gain The forest, we'll steal through the herds in the lane ! Come, husband ! oh, husband, come ! haste! let's begone! Oh, God ! 'tis too late ! here their glances are drawn ! " Ha, that shock ! she screams wildly, down crashes the door. And a brave bursts upon them with tomahawk o'er. The Caeionan ViLLAGtB. 81 "Spare, spare, Dawn of morning !" but downward it sinks. The blood of tbe busband laid prostrate it drinks; The brave plants his foot on the neck of the slain. And down falls the gore-dripping hatchet again ; The wife plunges headlong, her sorrows are o'er, The couple shall sit at the hearthstone no more. XXIX. Still flies round with delight the brand. Flames flash out upon every hand ; Over, the clouds are bathed in red ; A glaring horizon around is spread ; The tops of the woods seem to stagger in smoke ; All the wild life of their depths has awoke. Eagle and panther, and wolf and bear. Screaming and howling and snarling there ; Blent with the Iroquois war-song loud. Pealing from out of the smoky shroud. " Hooh ! hooh ! how the sharpened knife Has gleamed again in the war-path's strife ! Hooh ! hooh ! like the lightning red. The On-on-dah-gahs have flashed in dread ! Hooh ! whoop ! like the lightning red. The On-on-dah-gahs have flashed in dread I" 82 Fbontenac. At midnight the viUage drew slumber's sweet breath, At dawn it was hushed ia the stillness of death ; At midnight roofs rose in the wild gusty air, At dawn a wUd waste of dark ashes was there ; While the fierce At-o-ta-ho, more, vengeance to claim. Was again on his war-path of carnage and flame. THE BRiaANTINB. XXX. In the soft twilight's darkening glow. Near the wild shores of Ontario, Where points of wilderness form a bay. Now changing its hues to one shade of gray, Three crowded canoes of Iroquois braves Are gliding ; in one Dawn of Morning, now Bending his ear to the glassy waves, In front then looking with anxious brow. Sudden he speaks, and the prows turn quick To where a cluster of spruces thick Slants o'er the waters, their shaggy woof Shaping there an impervious roof. And in the black shadow beneath it thrown Each glides, and the scene to all seeming is lone. But dashes are heard, and a brigantine creeps Round one of the points to the push of her sweeps ; The BpiGANTiNl!. 83 Then dropping ter anchor the beautiful bark Motionless sits in the gathering dark. XXXI. A group of seamen surrounds the mast ; The stream of their converse is free and fast. " The G-riffin," says one, " was strong and fleet; I saw her, some two-score years ago. Launched on Niagara's rapid sheet, Near where the cataract 'rolls below ; The Sieur La Salle arid his gallant crew. And good father Hennepin, learned and meek, Stood on her decks as she downward drew. And kissed, with a curtsey, the river's cheek ; The Iroquois At-o-ta-ho too, Ku-an was there, and with his glance Of dread scowled Ta-yo-nee beside, who slew His sister whom Frontenac brought from France. They were then on the war-path in which they fell. Both of the chieftains knew I well ! " " What tales," said another, " of blood we hear From the now At-o-ta-ho ; deeds of fear By this young Dawn of Morning so constant are done, That a score of warriors he seems in one ! The Carignan village St. Mi6 you know, Near the foot of the Thousand Isles — it stood In its pleasant clearing three days ago, ' Tis a waste of ashes now, slaked with blood ; 84 Frontenac. Tie At-o-ta-ho led Hs band On it with, hateliet and with brand ; Not a dwelling now rises there — Not a soul did his fury spare — Frontenac well the day should rue, When the wrath of the savage he kindled anew." XXXII. The frog's hoapse bassoon, the loon's sorrowful shake. Alone the deep hush of the scene now awake ; The sailor thinks fond on his watch, of the spot Where rises mid vineyards his dear native cot. Once more his free footsteps press valley and plain ; Once more the glad harvest is sounding its strain ; He is there — he is there in his home of delight — He starts, he looks round, the lake gleams on his sight, But the starlighted hush again falls on his soul. And his thoughts again fly far away to their goal. XXXIII. A haze has now spread a thick mantle of gray, The waters are hidden, the stars shrink awayj From the roof of dark cedars quick movements begin. How silently, silently, onwards they win ! Still silently, silently, every canoe Still urged the gray waters invisibly through. Like barks from the spirit-land, spectral and dim. So still fall the paddles, so light is their skim ; The Brigantine. 85 Still silently, silently, onwards they glide, Ttey reach without question the brigantine's side ; Forms spring up the vessel — hush ! hush ! not a sound ! They peer o'er the bulwarks, the sleepers are round : They grasp now their hatchets, all caution is past, To the deck, to the deck, they are bounding at last! Up, up ! Dawn of Morning the foremost is there ! Quick, quick ! how their shouts ring abroad on the air ! Upstart the pale sleepers, and wildered by fright, And with senses still swimming, they stand to the fight, Hand to hand is the battle, clash cutlass and knife ! Clash steel-pike and hatchet; wild, wild is the strife ! Ho, the young At-o-ta-ho ! his eyeballs are flame, And the blood of his foes is splashed over his frame ! At the sweep of his hatchet one plunges in death ! At the dart of his knife gasps another for breath ! God save the poor seamen ! no succor is nigh ! Christ save the poor seamen ! they struggle to die ! They are borne to the deck, o'er the sides are they cast ; The water grows red round the brigantine fast. Till nothing remains of the crew but the dead. Then over the vessel deep silence is spread. Ofi" darts the canoes, smoke the doomed bark surrounds. On the lines of the rigging flame flashes and bounds. Red pennons stream out from the red-circled mast, A glare all around on the vapor is cast. The waters blush crimson ; but wildly and high The Iroquois war-song goes up to the sky. " Hooh ! booh ! how the hungry fire Has wrapped the French in its leaping ire ! 86 rRONTBNAC, Hoot ! hooh ! like the torrent's flood, Tie On-on-dah-galis have rushed in blood ! Hooh ! whoop ! like the torrent's flood, The On-on-dah-gahs have rushed in hlood ! END OF CANTO THIRD. CAlirTO FOURTH. THE THAKKSGIVING DAKOE. THE DANCE OP THE GREAT SPIRIT. KO-LAH. THE EXPEDITION. THE BIVOUAC. THE ABDUCTION. THE RESCUE AND DEATH. 13 CAITTO FOUETH. THE THANKSGIVING DANCE. RIGHT ushering in the day of feast For Dawn of Morning's safe return From Hs red path of anger stern, The dawn was flickering in the east. As the rich tints began to spread, Brave, sachem, sire, boy, matron, maid, By the Priest To-ne-sah-hah led In a long file, slow treading, wound Thrice the Tcar-jis-ta-yo around ; Then through the maize fields sought the shade. Where lay the customed ofiering-glade. There at a pile of faggots dry. Heaped with dew-spangled forest fiowers. Just gathered from their sylvan bowers, The At-o-ta-ho standing by. As the sun showed its upper rim. The gray-haired priest, with upturned eye, To Hah-wen-ne-yo raised' the hymn. The sun-fired calumet he bore. Sending its light smoke-offering o'er. 90 Frontbnac. 1. Hah-wen-ne-yo ! Mighty Spirit ! Humble thanks to tiee we render. Hah-wen-ne-yo ! Spirit Tast ! That to our loved At-o-ta-ho, At-o-ta-ho, great and high, Thou hast been a kind defender In the war-path that is past, War-path stained with deepest dye. And that safe, wise Creator ! Wise Creator, dwelling o'er ! He returns to us once more. " Hah-wen-ne-yo ! Mighty Spirit ! Thou art to our league a father, Hah-wen-ne-yo ! Spirit good ! And around our At-o-ta-ho, At-o-ta-ho, chief of fame. Thou dost robe of safety gather In the war-path past of blood. War-path filled with blood and flame. And thus safe, wise Hah-wen-ne-yo ! Wise Creator, dwelling o'er ! He returns to us once more. The Dance of the Great Spirit. 91 II. He ceased — struck steel and flint, and fire Glittered in dots upon the pyre ; Then, as the offering sent its smoke On high, the braves their dance awoke j Whilst Spark of Sunlight by the flame, The rooking stamping ring within. Praised still the Hah-wen-ne-yo's name, Amid the drum's* pulsating din. But, as passed off the morning's shade. The sacrificial rites were stayed Until the sunset's dipping light, When Dawn of Morning, at the head Of all his braves, would, in its sight, The dance of Hah-wen-ne-yo tread. III. Pleasure meanwhile ruled every soul. The bird-like ball swift soared on high ; The straining racers sought the goal. And mocking war-whoops rent the sky. THE DANCE OF THE GEEAT SPIKIT. IV. But now the sun, in its descent. Its rich and stretching radiance bent ; * Ga-nn-yah ia Iroquois. 92 Frontbnac, Suddenly Spark of Sunlight beat A great drum, planted in the square : Ceased war-whoop shrill, paused flying feet, The ball no longer whirled in air ; And as once more together came The village throng, his lodge from out. Amid a general joyful shout Stepped Dawn of Morning's graceful frame. The close white robe was o'er his breast ; The snowy plume beside his crest 3 His right hand grasped a bow sketched o'er With deeds ; his left an arrow bore. V. He strode with slow majestic pace To where his chiefest warriors * stood Armed like himself; then all the place Left for the sacrificial wood. Heading the long and dusky file, At length the At-o-ta-ho checked His footstep in the glade now decked With the soft sunset's sinking smile. VI. The women lined in groups the scene, Fastening upon the braves their sight. As they upon the floor of green, Prepared to celebrate the rite ; * Ko-90-no-walms in the On-on-dab-gah tongue. The Dance of the Great Spirit. 93 While age and childhood sought the shade That thickly edged the sylvan glade. VII. The braves, with arrow and with bow In either head, gazed steadfastly Upon the sua, whose parting glow Streamed down the glade's green vista free. And as the west's rim felt its flame The At-o-ta-ho forward came. Quick swinging in a dance his frame ; And in a mild and mellow blaze, Where a soft golden carpet shone, Began, in quavering guttural tone. The Hah-wen-ne-yo's hymn to raise. 1. " Mighty, mighty Hah-wen-ne-yo ! Spirit pure and mighty ! hear us ! We thine own Ho-de-no-sonne, Wilt thou be for ever near us ! Keep the sacred flame still burning ! Guide our chase ! our planting cherish ! Make our warriors' hearts yet taller ! Let our foes before us perish ! Kindly watch our waving harvests ! Make each sachem's wisdom deeper ! Of our old men, of our women. Of our children be the keeper ! Mighty, holy Hah-wen-ne-yo ! Spirit pure and mighty ! hear us ! 94 Frontbnac. We thine own Ho-de-no-sonne, Wilt thou be for ever near us ! 2. " Mighty, mighty Hah-wen-ne-yo ! Thou dost, Spirit purest, greatest ! Love thine own Ho-de-no-sonne, Thou as well their foemen hatest ! Panther's heart and eye of eagle, Moose's foot and fox's cunning. Thou dost give our valiant people When the war-path's blood is running But the eye of owl in daylight. Foot of turtle, heart of woman, Stupid brain of bear in winter, To our valiant people's foemen ! Mighty, holy Hah-wen-ne-yo ! Spirit pure and mighty ! hear us ! We thine own Ho-de-no-sonne, Wilt thou be for ever near us !" VIII. As ceased the strain, a warrior band. Arrow and bow reared high in hand. Arranged their files, and wildly dashed Into a dance with eyes that flashed : Now toward the west, and now o'erhead, KO-LAH. 95 Timing their chantings to their tread; While frequently the war-whoop rung In thrilling cadence from their tongue ; The dull dead drum-stroke sounding low, Like the deep distant partridge-blow. IX. With mingled grace and dignity The At-o-ta-ho led the dance ; To Hah-wen-ne-yo now the knee Bending, with lifted reverent glance, Now springing to his feet, with eye Fixed where the sun had fall'n below. Leaving within the cloudless sky A spot of tenderest, yellowest glow. KO-LAH. X. The rite was o'er — the throngs were gone ; The lovely sylvan glade was lone. The air grew dimmer yet and dimmer. Till outlines all began to glimmer ; The sassafras commenced to mingle With the soft air-breaths fluttering round, O'erpowering, with its fragrance single, The other odors of the ground; 14 96 Fkontenao. While a young moon, with timid glance, Looked down from heaven's undimmed expanse ; Her touch so faint on all beneath, It seemed 'twould vanish at a breath. XI. By On-on-da-ga's * grassy side, An arrow's passage from the glade, In melting tints the waters dyed, The sad but lovely Eobin strayed. Oh, did she come of him to dream Beside the solitary stream ! Her sighs to mingle with the breeze That crept so softly through the trees ! She heard the river's murmuring flow, Filling the spot with music low ; She saw the branches by the wind In light and graceful motions moved, And all were blended in her mind With him so fondly, deeply loved. The sound was like that voice her ear Oft bent in breathless joy to hear; The softly swaying branch o'erhead Was like that lithe and springing tread ; Yet ah ! in vain, in vain, she knew Love o'er her heart its witchery threw ; The eagle with his soaring crest, Disdained the robin's lowly nest. * Kun-da-qua in Iroquois, name for the On-on-da-ga river or creek. JiO-LAH. 97 XII. As thus she mused, from out the wood Sudden a brave before her stood. Hatchet, fusee, and knife he bore. With the red cloak his shoulders o'er ; His brow was frowning, yet a smile Seemed called upon his face the while. Like a pale straggling moonbeam shot Within some wild and gloomy spot. XIIL She started, and a scream suppressed. Then lifted high her form, and turned ; But in her path, with laboring breast And a fierce eye like fire that burned. The warrior planted firm his tread. And in soft honied accents said : " The Robin seeks to leave in fear One who has loved her deep and long ; Will ne'er in Ko-lah's raptured ear The Robin trill responsive song ?" " Has not The Robin, Ko-lah oft Told that she cannot love ? " " Her heart At Dawn of Morning's glance is soft ! " " Cease, cease. The Robin will depart ! "- " Not till she, Ko-lah hears ! — that slave, That At-o-ta-ho ! that mock brave ! That coward dog ! who does not dare 98 Frontbnac. Like us to leave his bosom bare, But ever witb that robe of white Keeps it close hidden from the sight, As if he feared an eye should see The deer-like heart within him — he Shall not The Robin have! " " Away, The Robin will no longer stay ! " The warrior's strong grasp stayed her path. His shape dilated with his wrath ; He clenched his hand as if to beat Her trembling frame beneath his feet ; Then swept the frenzied tempest o'er. And in soft tones he spoke once more : " Listen ! thou know'st a moon ago We young men went to strike a blow Against the distant Cherokees. Look ! the sweet, warbling Robin sees This little flower ! their grassy floor Of open woods is covered o'er With blossoms thick as Night's bright eyes, And brilliant as the glorious dyes Of Hah-wen-ne-yo's bow, when he Makes the red lightning* backward flee. Their breath scents every wind that blows, Like that The Robin's lips unclose j The moon is like The Robin's face, The morn and eve her blushing cheeks. * Ta-wen ne-wns in Iroquois. KO-LAH. 99 And birds the tours with music chase, Sweetly as that The Robin speaks ; Look ! ray war-pirogue * floats below, The Robin will with Ko-lah go To that bright land." " Unclasp thy hold, How darest thou ! Set The Robin free ! She will not go, fierce brave, with thee!" " Then Ko-lah takes thee !" In the fold Of his strong arm her trembling frame He swept, and toward the river went. The Robin shrieked, and forth the name. The deepest in her bosom shrined The foremost ever in her mind. Of Dawn of Morning loud she sent. XIV. As if that cry his presence woke, Out from the woods a figure broke. One hand a glittering hatchet clenched. The shrieking maid the other wrenched From the base Ko-lah, who, thus foiled In his dark purpose, back recoiled With burning rage, yet abject dread, Stamped wildly on his visage red. And gazed in fixed affrighted stare On Dawn of Morning towering there ; Who looked on him in turn, his form Loftily swelling with a storm * Kah-we-yah in Iroquois. 100 Feontenao. Of high disdain, yet bursting wrath, As if the reptile in his path To crush; but from his features passed The anger, and he said at last, Lifting his figure to his height. With eye that shed disdainful light And pointing his contemptuous finger Before him, " Why does Ko-lah linger ! " Then as the wretch shrank. Cowering low, As if he would, yet dared not spring. He felt in heart so base a thing. The At^o-ta-ho uttered " Go ! " And looked at him so stern and high That, shuddering from his searching eye, The savage turned; and when again. In accents of more deep disdain. The At-o-ta-ho his command Spoke, sweeping out his pointing hand. With a low cry of rage, yet mien Weighed down by fear, he left the scene. XV. The At-o-ta-ho, with a look Of deep and pitying kindness, took The hand of the half shrinking maid. With pleasure blushing, trembling now. Longing to thank him, yet afraid To lift her moist eyes to his brow, Or speak lest glance or word betray How deep within her heart his sway ; The Expedition. 101 Then left the river — passed the glade And belt of wood — and trod the maize By one of its four quartering ways All steeped in dusk, until he made The glimmering palisades — then straight Both entered at the closing gate. THE EXPEDITION. XVI. Pacing the Castle's gallery, Over the verge of the rock outspread, Whence the vision roamed far and free. Slow passed Prontenac's musing tread. Back in golden and sapphire blaze Sent the river the sunset rays ; Below were the roofs of the warehouses, bright In straggling and long-reaching pensiles of light. Though dim were the streets, with forms dwarfed small Creeping between the buildings tall ; Down the vale of St. Charles shot a mellow beam. But hid in the depths of its bed was the stream ; Above it a pinion of hovering mist By the soft yellow sun into splendor was kissed ; Between, broad meadow and level grain Smiled in the hour's enchanting reign ; While on the basin's lake-like breast Was the long spread island in lustre dressed, Dividing the flood that but parted to meet, And sink like a vassal at Ocean's feet. 102 Feontenac. XVII. It was a sweet and placid hour, When purest feelings and thoughts had power, And the stern old soldier felt his breast Hushing itself into holy rest ; But the cares of his rule again bore sway — The angels flew from his heart away — A figure approached him : " Ha, Lavergne ! Welcome ! for thee is a duty stern ! Band thee together a hundred men ! Hasten and sweep every hill and glen Where'er thou canst meet with the Iroquois foe. And scourge them with bloody unsparing blow ! Take too this Ko-lah to be thy guide, The Indian who joined us last even-tide ; I think we may trust him ! Some wrongs, he said, The proud At-o-ta-ho had heaped on his head. Away, and when next thy face I see. Thou knowest what tidings will gladden me ! " THE BIVOUAC. XVIII. The moon in glorious beauty glowed ; The heavens were one resplendent sheet. And her white lustrous mantle flowed Over the forests at her feet. The Bivouac. 103 But only here and there a ray Of silver pierced a sunken glen O'ertung by trees, scarce ligtt by day, In wMoh were bid a throng of men. Couriers de bois with hunting-shirt, Blue-girdled Hurons of Lorette, And pikemen in their buff-coats girt. Were in this gloomy hollow met, Armed with their different weapons all, As if prepared for instant call. A youth beneath a hemlock's height, Stood with plumed hat, and cuirass bright. With an old pikeman at his side. Erect and grim in martial pride. Each viewing the wild bivouac round ; Some stretched at ease upon the ground j Some busy at their sylvan meal ; Some causing fragrant wreaths to steal Their hatchet-calumets from out; With others, chattering, grouped about. At length he spoke : "No more delay, La Croix ! this moon will guide our way ! We-an-dah — such our captive's name. Doubtless a chief of power and fame. So high his pride — by morning's light May by his tribe be missed, and thus Lingering near Dawn of Morning, might To my small force prove dangerous. And Ko-lah ! he is gone I hear. The dog ! his treachery too I fear ! 15 104 Feontbnac. Haste, haste La Croix ! prepare the men ! This instant must we leave the glen." THE ABDUCTION. XIX. The same broad moon — night's radiant queen ! Was smiling on a different scene. The On-on-dah-gah maize-fields gleamed, The river flashed, the woods were bright, And the low rounded lodges seemed Great silver helmets in the light; Great as those casques the forms of stone Displayed — forms terrible, unknown! Told by the sires with shuddering fright, That came in their destroying might. Till pitying Hah-wen-ne-yo cast Destruction on their heads at last. XX. Within the slanting picket's shade, Outside the gate, The Robin strayed In all her sorrowing beauty's pride, Her friend. The Blossom,* at her side ; In silence both were bound ; — the one Was dwelling on her being's sun, * 0-tall-Ba in On-ou-dali-gali. The Abduction. 105 Whose kind, kind looks and words, when last By his hei timid footstep passed, Had deepened love within her heart, Which only could with life depart ; With Ko-lah rising like a cloud, Ever that hour's sweet light to shroud ; The other, in her sympathy. Mute in her speech, but with quick view Noting the distant stream — the tree At hand — the maize — the moon — the dew — And thinking with delight perchance, Upon some future feast-day dance, Or on some youth whose deeds had wove Around her heart the net of love. XXI. The two alone disturbed the scene. Sleeping beneath the dreamy sheen ; The sunset breeze had sank to rest Upon the forest's leafy breast ; While the field-cricket's silvery trill Made the deep silence deeper still. XXII. But as they passed a thicket, dashed An Indian out, — his hatchet flashed, — The Blossom fell in blood; — he caught. The swooning Kobin, — then like thought Bushed through the maize, and struck the woods. And skimmed the moonlight solitudes 106 Frontenac. With a fleet foot that, as it sped, Seemed drawing strength at every tread. Till a short league had flown, and then Entered a gloomy, shaggy glen ; ■ Through a wild throng, unheeding, passed, Who seemed in preparations fast About to leave the shadowy dell ; And, striding where a moonbeam fell Upon a plumed and cuirassed youth, "Ko-lah" exclaimed, "would prove his truth ! See, brave of Yon-non-de-yoh ! here" — Down placing as his feet the maid Who, now recovering, looked in fear Bewildered round, while accents strayed Hurried and broken from her lips. Betokening the mind's eclipse; "Is Dawn of Morning's pulse of life!" Then his fierce eye more venomous grew, He hissed the words his clenched teeth through, " Hooh ! Yon-non-de-yoh has a knife ! " THE RESCUE AND DEATH. XXIII. Up Mountain street's steep winding track, As evening's mists began to curl, Two of the guards of Erontenac Went with a stag-like Indian girl. The Eescue and Death. 107 Upon tteir left, in glimpses seen, The low and straggling tuts between, The rock, where stood the castle, stooped Sheer down, then sloped with thickets grouped. The battery flanking it they passed. Entered the Place d'Armes spreading vast. Thence, through the opened sallyport. And, crossing the broad castle court. Said to the sentry at the door, " Speech of the noble G-overnor !" XXIV. Within a room, the gallery next. Where hung a cresset from its beam. Sat Frontenac, his forehead vexed With musing, in the ruddy gleam That faded gradually away. Till lost in nooks and angles low Save where glanced back by antlers gray. Or where a corselet caught a glow. Upon a map his eye was placed. On which were lakes and rivers traced, With Indian trails all o'er that wound. And Indian castles scattered round, Bearing the well-known names that showed There made the Iroquois abode. XXV. He struck the floor — a guardsman came. "Meux! tell the Count Lavergne I claim 108 Prontenac. His presence here in two hours' space ! ' And down once more he bent his face. XXVI. A rap ! — the door at his command Opened — the bending guards there stood, The Indian girl erect, at hand. " Tour errand speak ! " " "Within the wood That stretches by St. Charles's flow, Where he had gone to hunt the deer, Ko-lah was found an hour ago Dead, by the young Carignan Pierre. Scarce had Pierre told to us the tale. Meeting us by the water-side. When o'er the basin, from a veil Of shadow a canoe we spied. This Indian girl alone it bore, And near our post it found the shore ; She Yon-non-de-yoh sought, she said, And here direct we bent our tread ! " Frontenac waved his hand — "Depart!" Upon the girl then glanced his eye ; Still reared erect, her Indian heart Shown in her presence proud and high. Her features wore a lighter hue Than that her forest sisters knew. But her full eye was dark and clear As the orbed splendors of the deer. The Rescue and Death. 109 From her dark hair a feather sprung, Behind, the usual roller hung ; While fell a light loose dress of skin Down to her broidered moccasin. XXVII. " What seek'st thou ? " — the deep voice Was kind, And slight the girl her head inclined, Answering in tones so soft and low That Frontenac scarce heard their flow. " The Kobin's voice is very sweet. Like the bird's flight her gliding feet. Her eye is like the star which ne'er Moves from its lodge within the air : But now that voice no more is heard Where late each heart to joy it stirred j No more those light feet make the ground Burst into laughing flowers around ; The eye no more is sparkling bright, ' Tis filled with tears, and dark with night ; Will not great Yon-non-de-yoh.'s ear The Eobin's sorrowing sister hear ? So great a warrior will not keep The bird to tremble and to weep ! He will not let The Kobin's trill Be longer moan of whippoorwill ! No ! he'll restore the bird its tree, He'll set the poor lone Kobin free ! " "Never!" fierce shouted Frontenac, While his eye flashed, his brow grew black, 110 Frontbnac. " Grirl ! daughter of a hated race ! How hast thou dared to seek this place ! How, bold one, how ! art not afraid ? Thou seek'st thy sister ! know'st not thou That Dawn of Morning loves the maid ? The dog ! who, could I clutch him now, I'd tread bepeath my feet, and make His death-song echo at the stake ! " A wild light glanced his. features o'er. And sternly stamped he on the floor. While the girl's eye with sidewisf lift Glared with a furious fire, and swift Glided her hand within her dress. Downcast the eye, hand motionless Again, as Frontenac his glance Turned once more on her countenance : " But yet I will not harm thee, girl I" His eye grew soft, his features caught A shade of pensive struggling thought : " There's something that subdues the whirl Of passion in me as I gaze, Leading me back to former days ! " " Then Yon-non-de-yoh will set free The Kobin ! " flashed the wild fire back Into the face of Frontenac : "Not till thy At-o-ta-ho's knee Is bent, acknowledging my sway ! " Again the maiden's cowering eye Shot its keen, furtive, sidewise ray Like some fierce serpent's crawling nigh ; The Rescue and Death. Ill Again within, quick glanced her hand, Then all once more was still and bland : " My Canada father then will let The Blue-bird* on The Eobin look ! " Frontenac's eye the maiden's met, The wrath his face once more forsook ; His dirk a corselet struck — with speed Entered a guard — with softened tone : " This maiden to The Robin lead, Let them remain an hour alone ! " XXVIII. The guardsman through the gallery led, Until he reached and oped a door, And when passed in the maiden's tread. He locked and barred it as before. The Robin on a couch was leaning, Her long black hair her features screening ; A single lamp with feeble light Yielding the bleak bare walls to sight ; But as the maid with noiseless tread Approached, and soft " Sweet Robin ! " said. Up to her feet she instant sprung With a wild cry upon her tongue ; Amazement, deep amazement took Possession of her staring look; Then joy in brightest flash shot o'er Her face, and then a blush it bore, A blush so deep, brow, neck, and breast The rich and radiant tint confessed j *Jo-gwe-yo. 16 112 Feontbnac. She trembled, shrank, as half afraid. When took her timid hand the maid ; Her bosom heaved with quick delight, Then down she dropped her sparkling sight, With heart and soul all wrapped to hear The low tones whispering in her ear : "Listen ! when Ko-lah's hatchet fell!" The Kobin here suppressed a cry — " Thy friend. The Blossom, did not die At once — she lived her tale to tell. By her poor sorrowing mother found. At morn stretched bleeding on the ground. The Arrow * on a deer's trail : — then Saw thee with Yon-non-de-yoh's men ; With speedy foot and heart with flame. Hither the At-o-ta-ho came Garbed as thou see'st him, with a band Of his best braves to aid his hand. He met the base dog Ko-lah — low He brought him with one hatchet-blow j But e'er our Evil Spirit's f ire Plunged the base warrior's heart in fire, The At-o-ta-ho made him tell Where was the sorrowing Kobin's cell ; And, now the Ato-ta-ho's here. The Robin will no longer fear ; Ere Kah-quaJ brings another day, * Ka-haiB-kah in On-on-dali-gah. tHa-uo-ga-ate-geh In On-on-dali-gah. i The Sou in On-on-dah-gah. The Rescue and Death. 113 With Dawn of Morning, far away Will fly The Robin, and again Will On-on-dah-gah list her strain ! " XXIX. The maiden listened — every word Delicious joy within her stirred; That he, the At-o-ta-ho, he The worshipped of her every thought, Should dare so much to set her free. Perilling life ; — her heart was fraught With deeper, tenderer love, imbued With warmer, holier gratitude. Ah, did he also love ! her eye Was raised a moment to his face. But glowing kindness, with a sigh. She there could only, only trace ; The same that ever spread his brow, - But sweeter, stronger, livelier now ! Away with him — she did not ask The means — she knew, fond maid, she knew That Dawn of Morning told her true; He would perform his promised task, And nerved to strength her drooping frame. To act when time for action came. XXX. The warrior oped his dress, unwound A deer-skin line of braided strength . Knotted to scores of feet in length, 114 Frontenac. Close swathed his slender form around ; Then grasping it in folds, he drew His knife, approached the massive door, And stood ; the faint lamp fainter grew, At last its flickering light gave o'er ; A plaintive wind commenced to sweep. The room was filled with darkness deep, Save where the loopholes, pierced on high. Let in some glimmerings of the sky. XXXI. At length they glared, and fell the bar, Quick rattled in the lock the key, Opened the door with sullen jar, A gasp — a fall — and instantly The At-o-ta-ho, with a stamp, Extinguished the slain guardsman's lamp ; Across the jutting gallery thence Drew him with hurried violence j And, heaving with convulsive strength. Lifted him o'er the rails at length. Into the chasm, — one murky frown, — Then pitched the body headlong down, Lashed to the rails the line, and then Eushed to The Eobin's side again. He took the maiden's hand : " Fear not ! " He said, then bore her from the spot. " Now cling to me !" The maiden clung,. And soon upon the line they swung ; The Eescue and Death. 115 The trembling girl gave one swift glance — Round was a rainy black expanse ; Above, dark outlines on the air Told that the castle's mass was there ; Near to the left, with shuddering awe The battery's frowning line she saw, The muzzles filled she knew with death, And scarce she drew her very breath ; By swept the wind with rushing sound, Dashing the rain upon their forms. In one of May's most furious storms ; Far swung they out, swift whirled they round; She closed her eyes again, her cling Drawn closer with each whirl and swing ; And yet, e'en yet, her sore affright Yielding at times to wild delight, Though blushing shame, that she, most blest, Was clinging, clinging to his breast. Down still, nought hearing but the wind ; Still down, down through the darkness blind ; At last they touched the lesser steep. Where scarcely could Jiskoko keep Her foothold, though her stumbling tread Was by the At-o-ta-ho led, And slowly worked their laboring way Down the rough sloping rocks that lay Towards the dim huts in straggling rank, Between them and the river bank. The shrieking, howling, sweeping blast, The rain in dashes on it cast, Keeping beneath each reeking roof 116 Teontenac. All from the miry street aloof. Keaching tlie marge, the warrior drew Out of the thickets a canoe, And, placing quick within the maid, The paddle seized; but e'er the blade The water struck, he glanced around, His ear bent down — no sight, no sound, But the slant rain, the dwellings grouped, And blast like that a warrior whooped. He stood an instant — muttered low, " Should Dawn of Morning strike the blow To Yon-non-de-yoh's heart, how high Would rise the League's triumphant head ! How Hah-wen-ne-yo from his sky. His glorious smiles would on us shed ! He goes ! but yet" — he looked to where The maiden sat — " she claims my care ! Still did not Yon-non-de-yoh boast. That underneath his feet he'd tread Me, Dawn of Morning ! me, a brave ! " His knife here glittered in the wave. " The Dawn of Morning of the dread And proud Ho-do-no-sonne host ! He goes ! The Robin will not wait, But seek the other side — she'll find There well-known braves. Let Te-yo-ayt* Bring the canoe again : the wind Has ceased, its rush of fury o'er ! " He said and bounded from the shore. * LigM. The Eescue and Death. 117 XXXII. On mid the scattered roofs he went, Lights, sparkling in the casements, lent Quick gloamings to the rainy street. But none were there to stay his feet. Winged with fierce speed he shot along, While a low cabin here and there Gave forth some swinging hunter-song. With shout and laughter on the air. XXXIII. He clambered up the bushy steep. With tug and scramble, pull and leap. Until he reached the cliff he found The line still swinging in the blast; Around a rock its end he wound, Knotting the yielding texture fast. And then with Indian skill and strength. Commenced to climb its slender length. He saw a black stripe drawn on air : The battery's dreaded guns were there, Which into death-winged lightning broke. And with stern voice of thunder spoke; The wind but uttered feeble howl, But still the heavens showed sable scowl. And the rain beat ; up, up he went His steady eye above him bent. Foothold receiving from the knots Set on the line in bulging spots. The castle blackened now the air. 118 Peontenac. But one bright spot was glittering there; It shone in that same room where he Stood by his hated enemy, And heard those threats that made his ire Blaze into fierce though smothered fire. Still up he went ; the gallery now Broke forth, then level with his brow; Over the rails he leaped — his tread Skimmed the broad space beneath him spread ; He glanced within the casement, there Frontenac with his face of care Over the map still bowed his frame ; He struck the door, the bidding came ; " Again, sweet maid !" said Frontenac ! Rising with face of kindling glow ; — The Indian crouched his figure low Like the roused panther drawing back For his dread leap upon his prey ! — " Did not great Yon-non-de-yoh say That he would underneath his feet The At-o-ta-ho tread ? Hooh ! look ! I am the At-o-ta-ho ! " Fleet As a deer's bound his leap he took Full at the startled noble's breast ; — But ere the destined blow could fall A form, unseen before, with call For help, the chieftain backward prest, And drew a sword, while too the hand Of Frontenac found ready brand. The Indian gave one cry of wrath When thrust thus backward in his path ; The Eescub anb Death. 119 Then, with a face all flame that grew, Leaped like a wild cat on the two, With gnashing teeth and glaring eye. And knife and hatchet flourished high; Frontenac's thrust he parried, stayed The other's quick descending blade. With furious violence for life, Here — there — all round — now raged the strife; The Indian's form seemed plumed with wings, So swift his rushings, high his springs; In flashes of quick light, his blows He rained upon his pressing foes, Till, in his blind haste, Frontenao Stumbled and headlong past him fell. The savage gave one smothered yell. And, as the other crossed his track. Sank his keen hatchet in his head. And toward the Yon-on-de-yoh sped; But wide an inner door now swung. And in the room two guardsmen sprung. The At-o-ta-ho wheeled and flew Like light the outer portal through ; Swift to the gallery's end he went. And down the line commenced de'fecent. His knife between his teeth, and slung His tomahawk upon his arm; But as in middle air he swung. The castle bell rang out alarm. Stern clanged the tones along the air ; Down past him dropped a torch's light Tossed from the gallery; quick a glare 17 120 Fbonienac. Burst from the battery on his sight, Smiting into a splendor keen All the stern features of the scene : Instant a ball above him screeched — Echoed a deep and stunning roar; Still down, still down he gliding bore. But now the line was severed o'er, And with slight shock, the slope he reached. XXXIV. Out still the bell's stern clangor rung, As down the slope himself he flung ; Before, amid the scattered way Of roofs through which his pathway lay. He heard loud calls, and saw the glow Of torches passing to and fro. He paused — long, deep, full breaths he drew. His knife and hatchet grasped anew ; Then, like an eagle in its wrath. He dashed along his forward path. Hurrying and bustling forms were there, Scores of red torches fired the air, Grleaming on halberd, gun and knife. Hastily snatched for unknown strife; The courier wild, the keen-eyed scout, Hunter, bateauman, trader, all The dwellers of the suburb, call On one another, peer about, Wondering what enemy so bold The castle's tongue of iron told Within their strong and guarded hold. The Eescue and Death. 121 XXXV. Near and more near, with flying frame, The fierce and desperate Indian came ; Near and more near, each sinew strung. Each thought on fire, still, still he sprung, And now within the space he rushed Where hright the flaring torches blushed j Shouts rang out boldly on the night, And gathered all to bar his flig t. Swinging his weapon right and left, On, on, the At-o-ta-ho dashed. Amid the crowd his path he cleft, Forms dropped, cries pealed, and weapons clashed. On, on, the At-o-ta-ho still. Right, left, his weapons swinging yet. And, er a blow his form had met. His pathway through the throng was won. On, on, the At-o-ta-ho still. There was his bark, a figure light. With vigorous and determined will, Eagerly gazing, grasping tight The loop of a descending root, Steady for the approaching foot. He enters with a ringing cry, Meets with a smile The Eobin's eye, Tl en grasps the paddle — from his bow Swifter his arrow never flew. Than o'er the Cat-a-ra-qui's flow Shot Dawn of Morning's winged canoe. 122 Fkontenac. But quick a rifle rang — with cry Jiskoko dropped — a gasp, a sigh. Poor loving maid ! poor loving maid ! His mandate she had not obeyed, But with an anxious heart had staid The watch herself for him to keep, Poor loving maid ! to look and weep, Alive to every sound and sight, Hearing the tumult with affright ; And Dawn of Morning, as the bark Turned round Gape Diamond's profile dark, Projecting boldly from the beach, Where not a shot the place could reach. Beheld, as down he bent his head. By the faint radiance of the stars From the rent storm's swift floating bars. But the locked features of the dead. END or CANTO FOURTH. OAiq"TO FIFTH. THE INN OF THE CANOE. WE-AN-DAH. THE SUMMONS. THE ENCAMPMENT. THE MARCH. CAi^TO FIFTH. THE INN OF THE CANOE. I. T the rude suburb's western end A little inn of logs was set, Wbere oft, a social hour to spend, Bateaumen, hunters, couriers met. Above the porch, in rough daubed hue, Outside was painted a canoe ; Within, a table stretched mid floor. With benches ranged at either side ; While shelves, in one paled corner, bore Flagons in glittering tints that vied. The carcass of a slaughtered deer At one side, carelessly was flung ; A bow, a pouch, a fishing-spear And Indian paddle, round were hung As afternoon its shadows wrought. The customed throng the tavern sought ; The courier rude, his coarse blue check Spread from his bare and sunburnt neck ; The hunter in his green-fringed skirt, To match the forest leaves in hue ; 126 Feontbnao. And the bateauman in his shirt Of red, and tasseled cap of blue. Glasses were in each hand, while rung In loud confusion every tongue. II. " Ho, Boeuff !" a courier said, "how now? Why dost thou show so grave a brow ? A moon ago I saw thee tract The Huron islands — thy canoe Heaped up with blankets, and thy crew So jovial ! Did the Hurons back Without a barter turn thee?" "No! But when their usual haunt I gained. The Bell-rock, empty huts to show Where they had been alone remained. At last, as close we searched about, We found an aged sire; he said. While shook his aged frame with dread. That the fierce Iroquois were out Upon the war-path, and were near, And off his tribe had fled in fear. He told us then to strike the rock, And, short time after, to its sound. Sending o'er isle and wave its swell. We saw the frightened warriors flock From all the neighboring coverts round. Their safety-sign that rocky bell. To quiet then their fears we tried, The Inn of the Canoe. 127 But from their hearts had ■vanished pride : And finding talk of barter vain, We with our load turned back again ! " " And others," a bateauman said, " Can of the Iroquois own dread ! Late at the setting of the sun. Within the Thousand Islands lake, Our crew had landed upon one. Our fires to light and suppers take; But e'er we struck a flint in brush, I chanced to look between a bush. And there I saw a great canoe Filled with the fiends swift paddling through. With Dawn of Morning casting look. The curst young At-o-ta-ho round ; Close our bateau was in a nook. But never gave we sight or sound, And the whole band passed through the same, In wisdom as the demons came !" " How strange that Bell-rock. I have heard" — Thus thrust another in his word : " The Hurons say, a towering form Is seen beside it, stand to take. Foretelling, though the winds are warm. And skies are blue, that some fierce storm Upon the scene is soon to break ; And then he wakes a sound so clear And loud, it pierces every ear ; Warning his children on the wave To hasten homeward, ere the blast 18 128 Feontenac. Upon their lingering barks is oast, Too quick and fierce for skill to save. Exclaimed a hunter, " As I went Basquet! along St. Charles's side This morn, I saw thy rifle bent To shoulder." " A huge panther died Beneath my aim, whose whine all night Plunged me, the beast ! in sleepless plight. Fiends are these Indians to the core ! " Spoke the bateauman giving o'er A draught, and deeply breathing — " Hush ! We-an-dah there is lying ! " — "Tush For him, the drunken wretch ! so low He 's fall'n, he's man no longer I ho ! Here's drink for thee, We-an-dah ! sleep No more ! " With swiftest, eagerest leap, An Indian left a nook, and flew To where the glass was held to view. Quickly the rosy stream he quaffed, Then with delirious pleasure laughed. " Good, good, fire-water's good !" — his clutch Another cup held towards him gained, And then a third one wild he drained — " We-an-dah loves the Pale-face much I " Then staggering back, his knife he drew. And in a dance his limbs he threw, While the rough concourse round him stood And mocked him in their reckless mood ; The Inn of the Canoe. 129 " See ! ha ! ha ! see him as he bounds ! And hart ! his war-whoop now he sounds ! Ha ! ha ! ha ! mark him reel ! look, Fleer ! Look, Vaux ! a great brave have we here ! A valiant warrior ! hear him shout, ' More, more fire-water ! ' Give it out. Good landlord ! fill it to the brim. It vanishes at his lips as fast As rain-drops on the water cast. Ah ! that has proved too much for him ! " And headlong on the floor he fell Stretched out, relaxed, insensible j And as beneath their feet he lay. They spurned him to a nook away. Ah, forest chieftain ! noble brave ! Wert thou, indeed, so mean a thing ! Better have filled a warrior's grave. Thou eagle with a broken wing ! m. Now, round the table, each one held A goblet, while a courier swelled His rough, free song, all joining in The chorus with tumultuous din. " Over the waters now we dash. Ever sing merrily, boys, sing merrily ! Ripples around our paddles flash, 130 Frontenac. Onward so merrily, thus go we ! Bound let the bowl fly, Quaff, boys, quaff ! Ha! ha! ha! ha! Laugh, boys, laugh ! " A hunter then took up the strain, And pealed it till all rang again. " Through the thick forests now we tread, Ever sing merrily, hoys, sing merrily ! Crack goes the rifle ! the game falls dead, Onward then merrily, thus go we ! Bound let the bowl fly. Quaff, boys, quaff! Ha! ha! ha! ha! Laugh, boys, laugh ! " Then a bateauman passed the song. Boiling a volume full along. " Up, up the waters pole we now, Ever sing merrily, boys, sing merrily ! Tramp, tramp, tramp on each side of our prow, Onward so merrily, thus go we 1 Bound let the bowl fly. Quaff, boys, quaff! Ha! ha! ha! ha! Laugh, boys, laugh 1 " "Wb-an-dah. 131 And then all joined their tones so deep, The very glasses seemed to leap. " Thus with our paddle, our rifle and pole. Ever sing merrily, boys, sing merrily We go through life, with the grave for our goal, Onward so merrily, thus go we ! Round let the bowl fly, Quaff, boys, quaff! Ha! ha! ha! ha! Laugh, boys, laugh ! " WE-AN-DAH. IV. Frontenac, in his usual room, Sat with a brow of deepened gloom : June's sunshine lay upon the floor. Through the oped casement came the breeze, And the broad transverse gallery o'er He saw the distant tops of trees. A dark ancestral portrait glowed As, searching out each hidden dye, The sunlight o'er the surface flowed. And woke to life brow, cheek, and eye. 132 Frontbnac. Beside a table wliere lie sat, A wolf-hound crouclied upon a mat, While parchments, maps, and volumes lay Around in negligent array. V. At length he rose, the threshold passed. And on the gallery stood, where vast The prospect opened to his view. Steeped in the sunshine's golden hue. Below him was the chasm of air Where the cliflF fell ; thence sloped the steep. Rocky and grouped with thickets, where Browsed the quick goats with many a leap. The lower city's chimneys rose Along the marge in long array, While in its calm and smooth repose, Like air the broad curved river lay. A brigantine was creeping round. With its one sail. Cape Diamond's bound ; By Orleans' Island a bateau Was, like a lazy spider, slow Crawling — the boatmen, spots of red. Pushing their poles of glimmering thread, While field, roof, forest filled his gaze. Till vanishing in the soft gray haze. We-an-dah. 133 VI. But nought was there to charm his eye, His mind lent darkness to the sky; A brooding shade was o'er the scene, So glorious in its summer mien. Again his gloomy room he sought. His brow o'erspread with drearier thought : — " Poor, poor Lavergne ! poor youth ! that he Should die, brave boy ! defending me ! And by that bloody demon too ! That Dawn of Morning ! " — Deeper hue Fell on his visage like a pall. " The sire, and now the son, to fall Beneath the tomahawk ! " — Again That dark deed of the distant past Was on his shuddering memory cast ! Lavergne's dead form — his harrowing pain — His loneliness — the evening gloom Darkening within this self-same room — The lost Lucille — that radiant child ! And she, the young, the perished mother. Loved with such depth of passion wild, Slain, slain, and, heaven ! by her own brother. And he an Iroquois ! That trick Of Dawn of Morning's too ! Thus mocked ! Cheated ! The Robin's cell unlocked Before his very eyes, and he Attacked by his fierce enemy In his own room. — " Without there, ho!" 134 Feontenac. A guard obeyed. " Tte Otter, quick ! " — The usual strides went to and fro Until the Huron runner came. " Brave Otter ! " — with an eye of flame — " Thy foot be now the eagle's wing ! Take the war-wampum ! my command Bear, that the hatchet through the land Unburied be against my foe, The Iroquois ! This arm shall bring At last these haughty nations low ! " The Otter vanished, and once more His tread he to the gallery bore. VII. At length in Mountain street he spied We-an-dah, with his sauntering stride. Across him seemed to flash a thought ; His room regained he. " Ho, Allaire!" Again the guardsman entered there. " Haste ! let We-an-dah here be brought ! " VIII. The Indian came — his flushed swoll'n face Of deep debauch showed wildest trace. His scalp-lock down neglected hung ; Round him a blanket soiled was flung ; His once rich leggings now were torn ; His moccasins to tatters worn ; Ah, forest chieftain ! noble brave ! Wert thou, indeed, so mean a thing ! We-an-dah. 135 Better have filled a warrior's grave, Thou eagle with a broken wing ! IX. ' Twas but one fleeting week ago That, capturing him in chase, Lavergne To Frontenao the chief had brought. Soaring in soul, unbowed in thought, Reared before Ton-non-de-yoh stern And fierce, a foe, a fearless foe ! Taunting him as a brave should taunt, A brave whom danger ne'er could daunt. Yea ! hurling scorn, as if he stood Within his native forest free, Frontenac captive at his side. Showing, through all, such glorious pride, That Dawn of Morning's self, had he Stood in his place, had not defied With sterner, higher, haughtier mood Or loftier wrath, his enemy. X. That very night, as with his wound Lavergne's sword gave him in the fray. Fainting within his cell he lay. The guardsman, as the hurt he bound. Offered, alas ! the fatal draught, Which for the first time now he quaffed. As the fell fire within him ran, 19 136 Feontbnac. He sank at once to less than man; He chattered in delirious glee Amid his feverish agony; And, as the first delicious glow He felt, first poison of the foe ! He thought the white man, that could make Such draught as this, his thirst to slake, Had greater power and skill to lift The soul on soaring wing, than even Great Hah-wen-ne-yo, who had given Only his tame and tasteless gift. Hour after hour he drank the flame ; More strong the horrid thirst became ; More eager did he grasp the bowl; Deeper and deeper sank his soul ; While Frontenac, with scornful smile. Marking by what a weapon he Could strike down his red enemy, One of the hated race, in guile Hour after hour the stream supplied. Then for a time withheld the tide. Until the brave ! the warrior proud ! The strong-winged eagle of the cloud ! An On-on-dah-gah ! — he that late Dared Yon-non-de-yoh in his state. And would have strode to fiery death With the stern war-song on his breath. He, he; oh, shame! oh, shame! subdued! Slave-like ! scourged hound-like ! lowly sued At the contemptuous guardsman's foot, That Yon-non-de-yoh still should give "We-an-dah. 137 The stream by wliicli he ceased to live, Save as an abject, groveling brute, Till Frontenacj in deep disdain, Yielded the devilish draught again, And, in pure scorn then made him free To roam Quebec at liberty, The mark — the sneer — the jest of all — How could an Iroquois so fall ! Ah, forest chieftain ! noble brave ! Wert thou, indeed so mean a thing ! Better have filled a warrior's grave, Thou eagle with a broken wing ! XI. But now before stern Frontenae, The chief seemed struggling sore to call • Some of his ancient spirit back ; He strove to lift his figure tall To its full height, and make his mien Show the pround warrior he had been ; But ah, in vain, in vain, his eye. From Frontenac's now lenient gaze. When he would seek its glance to raise, Cowering and dim, away would fly, And there he stood, an humbled slave, Not a Ho-de-no-sonne brave. XII. " We-an-dah ! " Up the chieftain rolled His eye at the commanding tone. 138 Frontbnac. " A sweeping cloud of midnight fold Wittin thy people's sky has grown And Yon-non-de-yoh's ; in the trail Between us, sharp thick briers prevail, And soon will Yon-non-de-yoh's tread Be on the war-path stern and dread ; But thou ! thou art my brother, brave ! We've buried in one common grave The hatchet, trodden it down deep, And still between us will we keep The chain of friendship ! thou wilt go. My friend and guide against my foe ! " XIII. " Hooh! " and the warrior reared his frame Proudly, while flashed his eye with flame, " Hooh ! " and he flung his arm on high. As if to soar up to the sky, " Does Yon-non-de-yoh " — and his look Was lofty and sublime, as down On Frontenac it wildly flashed, Then changed it to a mighty frown, His lip with rage impetuous shook. And on the floor his foot he dashed — " Think that We-an-dah is a dog ! " He clutched his knife with fury, " Kather"- Grated his teeth — " my Canada father " Back to his cell the brave shall flog. Than he will lift the hatchet red Against his tribe or League ! " And dread "We-an-dah. 139 Eang his shrill whoop, so loudly pealed, It seemed all objects round him reeled. XIV. Frontenac started as at first This fierce defiance on him burst, Then, smiling in derision grim, Signed to Allaire close by, who took A cup and flagon from a nook. And filled the goblet to the brim ; The Indian threw one eager glance On it, in proud restraint then turned. And with majestic aspect stood ; Then viewing it again askance, He clutched it, whilst his features burned. And drank it as a wolf drinks blood. Another draught then down he flung. And then another, still another. Then reeling up, with stammering tongue. Said, " Yes ! We-an-dah is the brother Of Ton-non-de-yoh ! whitemen all His brothers are ! the brave feels tall ! His heart feels big ! fire-water's good ! It fills his veins with leaping blood ! He goes where Yon-non-de-yoh goes ! His foes shall be We-an-dah's foes ! Whoop ! whoop ! fire-water's good ! more, more ! " And down he pitched upon the floor. Ah, forest chieftain ! noble brave ! Wert thou, indeed, so mean a thing ! 140 Fkontenac. Better liave filled a warrior's grave, Thou eagle with a broken wing ! THE SUMMONS. XV. Ho ! ho ! to the war-path ! with high lifted head, The Huron unburied the tomahawk red; The bowed Adirondack looked up with the knife Clutched keen in his hand for the pitiless strife; The Ot-ta-wa's wild war-paint glowed fresh on his cheek As he came the fierce hatred of ages to wreak; The rough hardy boatmen left river and lake ; The trapper the beaver; the woodman the brake ; The noble clasped corselet of steel on his breast, For the glory that gave to existence its zest ; The artizan closed his dim workshop, and took His arquebuse rusting for years in its nook ; The soldier, who followed on Hungary's plain Carignan's spread flag, grasped his musket again ; The husbandman, singing gay Normandy's songs In Canada's grain-fields, rose too with the throngs ; The axe in the stumps of the clearing was flung ; No longer the hunter's sharp rifle-crack rung ; The village was empty; deserted the glade; All came where the banner of France was displayed ; Ho, ho, to the war-path ! stern Frontenac's tread Will dash to the earth the leagued enemy's head. The Encampment. 141 THE ENCAMPMENT. XVI. Tte summer sun was sinking bright Behind the woods of Isle Perrot; Back Lake St. Louis gleamed the light In rich and mingled glow ; The slanting radiance at Lachine Shone on an animated scene. Beside the beach upon the swell Scores of canoes were lightly dancing, With many a long bateau, where fell The sun, on pole and drag-rope glancing. Throngs were upon the graTelly beach Bustling with haste, and loud in speech ; Some were placing in rocky bateaux Cannon and mortars and piles of grenades; Some were refitting their arrows and bows. Others were scanning their muskets and blades; Some were kindling their bivouac fire, Others were blending Their voices in song ; While others, contending With utterance strong. Scarce kept from blows in their reckless ire. XVII. Scabbard touched hatchet, and scalp-lock plume ; Wheeling platoons here and there forced room; 142 Trontenac. The Indian with girdle and knife was here ; There was the buff-ooated musketeer ; The pikeman's steel breastplate here flashed in the sun, By the swarthy Canadian's rude halberd and gun ; The noble's gay mantle and sabre passed there, By the hunter's rough deerskin and long shaggy hair ; Couriers de bois and bateaumen, made gay By their sashes and caps, swell'd the mingled array ; While guttural accents and laughter loud, Blent with the tones of stern command ; Loudly arose upon every hand From the quick, busy, and eager crowd. XVIII. O'er a fur trader's cabin, spread broadly on high, France's white standard saluted the eye ; Below were the griffins of Frontenac gleaming In gold, on the breast of a pennon outstreaming. Before the threshold the sentries went, Two of the guardsmen grim and tall ; There were the steps of the leaders bent, In and out of the audience-hall. XXX. The sunset tints from the lake withdrew, And now on the broad expanse were seen Here, rough Ot-ta-wa's tawny hue. There Cat-a-ra-qui's splendid green. Onward flowing, disdaining to mingle, Either color distinct and single ; The Encampment. 143 And not till league on league were passed, Did the hues, so separate, blend at last. XX. As the twilight darkened round. Flame on flame existence found ; Stir and bustle ceased, and all Welcomed night's slow gathering pall. XXI. Circling a fire up merrily streaming, A group of pikemen and musketeers Sat with their corselets and weapons gleaming E.ed in the light. " 'Tis a sight that cheers My bosom, to see this warlike host Cooped so long in one dreary post ! " Said old Allaire. " Yes ! well sayest thou, " Answered La Croix. " I've vowed a vow To holy St. Ursula, that this pike Shall ten of the whooping demons strike ! " " Ten, sayest thou ! should there be but one. And he Dawn of Morning, thy prowess were done ! " " What know' St thou of my prowess ! " " Naught. But if thou the Iroquois often hadst met. Less wouldst thou boast ! De Nonville sought Our Seneca foemen ! I cannot forget The combat we waged in the thickets and trees, 20 144 Ekontenac. With our creeping and serpent-like enemies. Their bullets pattered like hail about; And then their hideous battle shout. It cleaves the brain like a fiery dart : In many a battle I've borne a part, I followed Turenne and great Cond6, but ne'er Strove I before with empty air, And death all about me !" ''Allaire was in fear, Methinks!" said the pikeman, around with a sneer. " In fear ! base hound ! ' ''Nay, nay!" outbroke The others, " La Croix was but in joke ! Men should not act like thoughtless boys ; Sing us, Allaire, the soldier's joys I" XXII. Allaire had started to his feet, Clenching his hand, while the other stood Smiling, yet holding his arm, as though To intercept a threatened blow ; But quickly calmed the old guardsman's blood. And again on the grass he took his seat ; And clearing his voice with an effort, sang In tones that aloud o'er the bivouac rang. 1. " Banners all around us flying ! Trumpets all around us ringing ! The Encampment. 145 Weapons gleaming ! chargers springing ! Comrades ! who's afraid of dying ! Forward march ! quick on we go, Gladly, freely, breast to foe ; Forward, forward, on we go, Such the joys we soldiers know. Honor bright to fleeting breath, Give us victory or death ; With our bosoms to the foe, Such the joys we soldiers know ! 2. " When is past the conflict gory. And our veins have ceased their leaping. Then the watch-fire redly heaping. Round fly merry song and story; Frowning care behind we throw As our gleaming glasses glow ; Backward march we bid it go ! Such the joys we soldiers know ! Ever ready for the field, Ever ready life to yield ; Onward, onward, breast to foe, Such the joys we soldiers know ! " XXIII. In the room of a lonely roof that stood Beside the rapid and sounding flood. Around a board with glasses set, A joyous company were met; The noble leaders of the array 146 rEONTBNAC. Speeding a few bright tours away. Here sat De Gras and Vaudreuil ; there Calli^res and Bekancourt mocking at care. Sparkling jest and witty gleam Shot o'er the winecup's ruddy stream ; And story, debate, and legend old, With frequent song time onward rolled. Hark ! a voice sounds merrily ; 'Tis Bekancourt singing in light-hearted glee. 1. " Lovely France ! my native France ! At thy name my bosom bounds ! To my eye sweet visions dance ! In my ear soft music sounds ! Hail ! thy purple vineyards flowing ! Hail ! thy bright-eyed daughters glowing ! Of my life thou seem'st a part. Lovely France ! Ah, la belle France, Glorious France, how dear thou art ! 2. " Lovely France ! my native France ! Famous are thy battle-fields ; And where points thy glittering lance. Victory there her trophy yields. Hail ! thy high historic story ! Hail ! thy legends rife with glory ! Shrine, where bends my willing heart ! Lovely France ! ah, la belle France ! Glorious France ! how dear thou art ! " The Encampment. 147 XXIV. As sinks the voice upon the applauding throng, The young De Gras takes up the thread of song 1. "What thought makes my heart with most tenderness swell ? 'Tis the thought of thy beauty, my sweet Gabrielle ! To the soft wind of summer swings lightly the tree, But the glide of thy step is far lighter to me. 2. ' ' Oh ! the breeze when it meets thee takes sweeter its flight ! And the sun glows more warmly when rising thy sight ! The nightingale chants her melodious glee, But the sound of thy voice is far sweeter to me. 3. " Thou hast circled thy chain — thou hast woven thy spell For aye round this bosom, my own G-abrielle ! The star of the evening is brilliant to see. But the glance of thy eye is far brighter to me. 4. " In life, my loved angel, when struggling in death. Thy dear name will dwell on my last ebbing breath. Heaven's bliss would be clouded and dark without thee. The step, voice and eye, that make heaven to me." 148 Fkontenac. THE MAKCH. XXV. Day after day, on Cat-a-ra-qui's breast, The embattled bost their upward pathway pressed. All the noblest of the land Mingled in that warlike band ; Gallant men, whose blood had poured Where'er France had drawn the sword. XXVI. In the bright midst was gray-haired Frontenac, His fiery soul in arms for the attack. Long had he burned his vengeful hate to shower On the wild foes so scornful of his power ; To crush and whelm them in one doom of dread, Of blood and flame, and now the hour had sped. XXVII. On the flotilla passed — sword, pike, and gun Traced on the wave, and glittering in the sun. XXVIII. Now by green islands, where the feeding deer Looked, and was gone ere arquebuse could bear j Now by still coves, upon whose mirrors clear The glossy duck seemed gliding through the air j Now o'er some lake, whose broad expanded breast, As came the breeze, to white-capped waves was driven. The Makch. 149 And on whose distant flood appeared to rest The hazy softness of the summer heaven ; Athwart the mouth of some fierce river, now Hurling its foaming, tumbling tribute in, And marking with its stain its conqueror's brow, Beheld for hours before the spot they win. Merrily now some basin o'er, Borne with paddle and oar quick dashing : Turning now to the tangled shore. Where the cataract down came crashing ; And while a part, with weary struggling care. Across the portage wild the burthens bear, The rest, waist-deep, in whirling foam, drag slow, Thus lightened of their loads, canoe and huge bateau. XXIX. Now by smooth banks where, stretched beneath the shade. The Indian hunter gazed with curious eye ; Now catching glimpses of some grassy glade. Rich with the sunshine of the open sky ; Now by the vista of some creek, where stood The moose mid-leg, and tossing high his crown Hazy with gnats, and vanishing in the wood, Waking to showers of white the shallows brown. Thus on they passed by day — at night they made Their bivouac-fires amid the forest shade. Scaring the wolf and panther, till the reign Of morning bade them launch upon the flood again. END OF CANTO FIFTH. CANTO SIXTH. THE WAE-HATCHET. THE WILDERNESS. THE CATARACT. THE SENECAS. LEAPING PANTHER. CAYUGA LAKE. THE CAYUGAS. THE ONEIDAS. THE STRAWBERRY DANCE. THE CANOE VOYAGE. THE MOHAWK'S SCALP DANCE. 21 CAE'TO SIXTH. THE WAK-HATCHET. PON a gorgeous woodland scene, Whose limits mocked the eagle's sight, A billowy sea of differing green, The sun looked downward from its height. Along an Indian trail, that traced Its seam amid these forests vast, A narrow furrow, through the waste. Swiftly the At-o-ta-ho passed. The war-paint's black and crimson streaks Grleamed fiercely on his brow and cheeks; Upon his customed robe were spread His battle deeds in tints of red; Hatchet, fusee, and knife he wore. His shaven head the war-tuft bore ; While a roused spirit, fierce yet high. Sat, like couched flame, within his eye. II. With a red girdle round his frame. Behind the tall pipe-bearer came. 154 rRONTENAO. Nodded a crimsoned eagle plume Over a brow of crimsoned gloom ; No weapon bore he, save on high A hatchet of vermilion dye. THE WILDERNESS. III. Innumerable vistas far Extended, myriad trunks between, Eye-tangling and irregular, Till closed by hillock or ravine. Trees, trees, a verdant world, were round. Straight, crooked, slant, each seeking light; With some all splintered, bare and white. Telling the lightning's blasting bound. And now and then was seen a path Of prostrate trunks in chaos cast. With upturned roots, dark circles vast, Signs of the fierce tornado's wrath. IV. Pines met the eye all tasseled o'er; Hemlocks that fringy cones upbore; Oaks with their scalloped verdure; beeches Whose moss the northward pathway teaches; Poplars, light-hued and sensitive. The "Wilderness. 155 To every air-breatli all alive; Maples, their red-stemmed foliage flickering To downiest winds like streamlets bickering; Striped dog-woods, birches sweet, that stood The incense bearers of the wood; Grrim lurching firs and laurels green. Showing the swamp's wet, clustered scene. V. Through this gigantic roof, the light Here, made some natural opening bright; Here, down a narrow vista swept; Here underneath dense thickets crept; Here, broken, struggling being found, Sprinkled like fire-flies on the ground. But scarce these colors few the sway Broke off the general hue of gray. That filled, subdued and soft, the air, Making a solemn twilight there. VI. This glorious sylvan scene showed rife Each stage of vegetable life. The downy sprout, the ground-bird trod Elastic to the downy sod ; The sapling with faint verdure crowned. Low bending to the squirrel's bound; The tree, that towering strong and high Spread its green standard to the sky ; 156 Frontbnac. Then the dead top witli lichens dressed ; Then the dark hollow in the breast ; At last the dead prone log, with moss Flung like a shroud, its form across. VII. As by the Indians passed, its lay The robin ceased and shot away ; Off, like a flash the red-bird flew ; Its gambol scared, the rabbit threw ; The crackling of the under-brush Told of the deer's retreating rush ; With heavy wing, and croaking hoarse. The mountain raven urged its course; While now and then the eagle gray Pointed his beak and soared away. VIII. O'er some green glade now went their tread. Spotted with strawberries pouting red ; Now by a fountain clear as dew Trickling its mossy channel through ; Now in a broad and sweeping aisle ; Now in a deep and dark defile ; And now across the jagged bridge Of some tree fall'n from ridge to ridge, Forming between the hollow black. Where crept the sedgy streamlet's track. The Cataract. 157 THE CATAKACT. IX. A steady sound, wiose rumble deep Had long been mingling with the air, More loud and stern commenced to sweep, Till on the ear it seemed to bear A mighty load ; the woods it filled With its grand volume of stern sound ; Nature's most secret heart seemed thrilled, And every other tone was drowned. To the light wind the branches shook, Down sparkled on its way the brook. Flew in and out each merry bird, But not a sigh, dash, chirp, was heard. X. Over the trees a form of snow Was towering, by the sunny glow Kissed into flashing diamonds ; bright That silvery shape of glancing light. Seeming as changing, quivering, there. Some hovering spirit of the air. XI. Well, well the At-o-ta-ho knew That shape, thus glittering to his view; Oft had he stood and on it gazed, As in its noontide pomp it blazed ; 158 Frontbnac. And when the moonlight o'er it threw Its delicate robe of silvery hue ; In contrast sweet and bright, to where The crashing, flashing, plunging form Of floods rush'd down in fearful storm. One mighty curve upon the air. The first seemed telling him to rise, Until his fame should reach the skies ; The last in thunder seemed to say, Kneel, At-o-ta-ho ! kneel and pray ! Forget thy deeds, and with low brow. Think of the Hah-wen-ne-yo now ! XII. 'Twas 0-ni-ah-ga-rah there that hurled Its awful grandeur down its rock ; Dim sign of that dread shape a world Reeling, shall see, when with fierce shock He plants His tread on sea and shore. And swears that Time shall be no more. Farther my harp is mute to tell Of the Sublime — the Terrible. THE SENEGAS. XIII. The westering sun shot slanting beam Along a narrow winding stream, Bathing the basswoods of the bank. Bending in interlacing fold. Leaping Panther. 159 Whose rich and pendent clusters drank The light, till seemed they wrought of gold. XIV. An Indian castle clustered by, Girdled with palisadoes high. Within a grassy space that lay Next to the forest, an array Of warriors in a circle sat. Each crouched upon his bear-skin mat. Solemnly passed the wreathing pipe Adorned with many a blazoned type ; While each fixed eye and rigid face Of deep abstracted thought bore trace. LEAPING PANTHER. XV. At length a warrior rose, his breast Bearing a snake, tattooed, its crest And forked tongue ready — with a brow Where care had driven its furrowing plough. And with a keen heart-searching eye That flew around, each point to spy, As if some danger near to find Lurking beside him or behind. 22 160 Fkontbnac. XVI. ' Twas Leaping Panther, chieftain famed ! Who mid the League's stern warriors, claimed To Dawn of Morning next, the meed Of honor and authority By the fierce nations yielded free To wisdom and to valorous deed. XVII. Yet though in council eloquent And wise, and on the war-path brave, To venomed envy's thraldom bent Dark Leaping Panther, veriest slave j And hatred fierce with envy came, Kindling his breast with blended flame. 'Twas Dawn of Morning's fame that fraught With venom foul his every thought ; His power and sway within his heart Eankled in sleepless, ceaseless ire, But yet, so matchless was his art. He veiled from all the fiendish fire. Oft in the Union Feast would sneer Or gesture of disdain appear When Dawn of Morning met his eye ; But with such quickness passed they by That scarcely could the sight descry. He seemed a shadowy scorn to throw Upon the At-o-ta-ho's state By quick grimace — eye's sidewise glow, Leaping Panther. 161 Or tone's sligtt sarcasm — yet tis hate Was ne'er displayed in open word ; And all these signs so slightly stirred The mind, none heeded at the time ; And still, so lurking was the slime, That memory by unwitting spell On those strange shrugs and smiles would dwell, But then some action high and proud Of the young At-o-ta-ho fax Swept every doubt as from a star The strong blast sweeps the transient cloud. XVIII. For a brief instant silently Like a tall form of bronze stood he. Then rearing more erect his head And stretching out his arm, he said : — XIX. " Sachems and warriors ! each his eye Cast round ; the sun about to die Once more, sends out his loveliest blaze Lighting our lodges, graves, and maize. Where these stand now, ye oft have heard, Brothers ! this heart holds every word, In time of snows our old men tell. How by our sires the Kah-kwahs fell ; Their sons will ne'er then slumber long De-o-se-o-wah's huts within ; Kouse warriors ; to the war-path throng ! 162 Fkontenac. Here, glory braves can never win ! Our tomahawks are thirsty ! see How bright they are ! we'll let them drink Deep of the blood of Illini ! Will any of my young men shrink ? No ! Nun-do-wah-gahs never fail When points Agreskoufi * the trail. Never the war-path did they shun I Sachems and warriors ! I have done ! " XX. A loud " yo-hah !" burst out, but e'er Another could his mind declare, A form strode in with lofty tread, A crimson hatchet in his cling, Glanced for a moment round the ring. Then waved the weapon o'er his head. XXI. " The At^o-ta-ho ! " pealed on highj Each brave leaped upward with the cry ; " The A<>o-ta-ho ! " every head Was bent ; again arose the shout " The At-o-ta-ho ! " quick it spread Till every quarter pealed it out ; " The At-o-ta-ho ! " matrons, maids. Children, old men, youths, warriors, all * The war-god of the Iroquois. Leaping Panthek. 163 Came rushing from the palisades, Boused by that loved and well known call. While the lean dogs that glanced about Joined their loud barkings to the shout. XXII. Grim Leaping Panther's eye flashed fire, As Dawn of Morning first strode in And burst on high the joyful din. Then lost his brow all trace of ire, And, bowing, he stood waiting till He heard the At-o-ta^ho's will. XXIII. Slow Dawn of Morning swayed around The hatchet, hushing every sound. While every eye to his was turned ; And, by the crimson hatchet woke To flame anticipating, burned Flashing more fierce as now he spoke : " Braves ! Yon-non-de-yoh comes to slay And burn ! hooh ! Nun-do-wah-gah braves ! To On-on-dah-gah ! up ! away ! Fly warriors ! for your fathers' graves ! Let every young man seek the trail ! " Out burst the warwhoop's quavering wail, Forth knives and hatchets flashed, once more The whoop, keen echoing, trembled o'er, Lodges and palisadoes rung, Each tree seemed gifted with a tongue, 164 Frontenac. Eact face grew wild, the very air Gleamed with the weapons wielded there, Till twilight, soft and gentle, drew Across the scene its shimmering hue. CAYUGA LAKE. XXIV. Another lovely sunset beamed Upon Gwe-u-gwe's glassy breast, Which in responsive lustre gleamed As if there glowed a second west. The forests on the Eastern shore Half robes of golden radiance bore ; Harsh sights and sounds with melting day Had from the lovely scene been driven, Nature seemed kneeling down to pray In praise and gratitude to Heaven. XXV. Sweet sylvan lake ! in memory's gold Is set the time, when first my eye From thy green shore beheld thee hold Thy mirror to the sunset sky ! No ripple brushed its delicate air. Rich silken tints alone were there ; The far opposing shore displayed. Mingling its hues, a tender shade ; Cayuqa Lake. 165 A sail scarce seeming to the sight To move, spread there its pinion white, Like some pure spirit stealing on Down from its realm, by beauty won. Oh, who could view the scene nor feel Its gentle peace within him steal, Nor in his inmost bosom bless Its pure and radiant loveliness ! My heart bent down its willing knee Before the glorious Deity; Beauty led up my heart to Him, Beauty, though cold, and poor, and dim Before His radiance, beauty still That made my bosom deeply thrill ; To higher life my being wrought. And purified my every thought, Crept like soft music through my mind, Each feeling of my soul refined. And lifted me that lovely even One precious moment up to heaven. XXVI. Then, contrast wild, I saw the cloud The next day rear its sable crest. And heard with awe the thunder loud Come crashing o'er thy blackening breast. Down swooped the eagle of the blast, One mass of foam was tossing high. While the red lightnings, fierce and fast. Shot from the wild and scowling sky, 166 Feontenac. And burst in dark and mighty train A tumbling cataract, the rain. I saw within the driying mist Dim writhing stooping shapes — the trees That the last eve so softly kissed, And birds so filled with melodies. Still swept the wind with keener shriek, The tossing waters higher rolled. Still fiercer flashed the lightning's streak, Still gloomier frowned the tempest's fold. XXVII. Ah such, ah such is Life, I sighed, That lovely yester-eve and this ! Now it reflects the radiant pride Of youth and hope and promised bliss ; — Earth's future track and Eden seems, Brighter than even our brightest dreams, Again, the tempest rushes o'er, The sky's blue smile is seen no more, The placid deep to foam is tossed, All trace of beauty, peace, is lost, Despair is hovering, dark and wild, Ah ! what can save earth's stricken child ! XXVIII. Sweet sylvan lake ! beside thee now, Villages point their spires to heaven, Rich meadows wave, broad grain-fields bow, The axe resounds, the plough is driven ; Cayuga Lake. 167 Down verdant points come herds to drink, Flocks strew, like spots of snow, thy brink; The frequent farm-house meets the sight, Mid failing harvests scythes are bright, The watch-dog's bark comes faint from far, Shakes on the ear the saw-mill's jar, The steamer like a darting bird Parts the rich emerald of thy wave, And the gay song and laugh are heard, But all is o'er the Indian's grave. Pause, white man ! check thy onward stride ! Cease o'er the flood thy prow to guide ! Until is given one sigh sincere For those who once were monarchs here. And prayer is made beseeching God To spare us his avenging rod For all the wrongs upon the head Of the poor helpless savage shed ; Who, strong when we were weak, did not Trample us down upon the spot, But weak when we were strong, were cast Like leaves upon the rushing blast. XXIX. Sweet sylvan lake ! one single gem Shines in thy liquid diadem. No sister claims this little isle To yield its beauty smile for smile ; With it to hear the blue-bird sing ; " Wake leaves and flowers ! here comes the Spring ! " 23 168 Erontenac. ■With it to weave for Summer's tread Mosses below and bowers o'erhead; With it to flash to gorgeeus skies The opal pomp of Autumn dies ; And when stern Winter's tempests blow To shrink beneath his robes of snow. XXX. Back to the evening of my strain ! Back to the sunset hour again ! THE CAYUGAS. XXXI. Amid the lake's rich jeweled hues Moves a flotilla of canoes Toward the green shore ; the sinking light Paints Ko-lan-ne-kah's lodges low; Makes clustered apple-orchards bright, And maize-flelds bathes with rosy glow. XXXII. From the pure grass-green depths all day The young men had been drawing prey; The Oayugas. 169 The greedy pike in mottled Test, The perch, in golden armor drest, The trout in bronze and crimson dight, The bass in streaks of blue and white, And now, as homeward course they take, They raise their anthem to the lake. 1. Gwe-u-gwe the lovely ! Gwe-u-gwe the bright ! Our bosoms rejoice in thy beautiful sight j Thou bear'st our kah-we-yahs, we bathe in thy flow, And when we are hungered thy bounties we know. 3. In peace now is spread the pure plain of thy waves. Like the maidens that east their kind looks on their braves ; But when the black tempest comes o'er with its sweep. Like the braves on their war-path fierce rages thy deep. 3. Thou art lovely, when morning breaks forth from the sky, Thou art lovely, when noon hurls his darts from on high. Thou art lovely, when sunset paints brightly thy brow, And in moonlight and starlight still lovely art thou. 4. Gwe-u-gwe ! Gwe-u-gwe ! how sad would we be Were the gloom of our forests not brightened by thee; 17Q Frontbnac. Hah-wen-ne-yo would seem from his sons turned away ; Gwe-u-gwe ! Gwe-u-gwe ! then list to our lay. XXXIII. As the kah-we-yahs touched the shore, A band of other warriors came From the thick rank of woods before, Bending beneath their forest game ; The slender deer, soft, ebon-eyed, As if in sorrow he had died ; The long-eared rabbit dangling down, The partridge in its mottled brown. The shaggy bear in sable coat Gaping with white-fanged crimson throat, The wild-cat with its eyes' green gleam, And wolf with jaws one foamy stream. XXXIV. Pausing upon a little glade That edged with grassy stripe the shade, In one great pile their game they threw. Around it in a circle drew. Then in wild dance their forms they flung. While one, the ring that headed sung : The Catugas. 171 1. " Kind Kah-hah-goh ! * Our glad praise to thee we send, Thou art the Gwe-u-gwes' friend, Saying, ' Warrior, bend thy bow ! Look, brave, look ! the bear is low ! ' Saying, ' Warrior, aim thy gun ! Look ! the deer's swift course is run ! ' Kind Kah-hah-goh ! Thus our praise to thee we send. Thou art the Gwe-u-gwes' friend. 3 " Kind Kah-hah-goh ! In thy robe of summer green Thou dost o'er our ambush lean. Saying, ' Warrior, grasp thy axe. Hush ! the foe is on thy tracks ! ' Hush ! hooh ! now in blood he lies ! Wave his scalp before his eyes ! Kind Kah-hah-goh ! Thus our praise to thee we send, Thou art the Gwe-u-gwes ' friend ! " XXXV. Ceases the deep and droning strain, The hunters claim their loads again, * The spirit of the forest, in the Cayuga language. 172 Frontenac. Joining the braves then from the lake, All to the castle, pathway take. XXXVI. But words that told surprise and awe, Burst from the front, and each one saw Upon a naked mound that stood Like a green bastion from the wood, Against the background rich and warm, In posture of supreme command Reared to full height — a warrior form, A hatchet lifted in his hand. Red as the blushing clouds that threw Upon the lake their gorgeous hue. XXXVII. A moment's silence fell about, 'Twas broke by Breath of Tempest's shout, "The At-o-ta-ho ! " one quick yell Burst then from every warrior there — "The At-o-ta-ho!" far the swell Rolled on the soft and slumbering air ; " The A(>o-ta-ho ! " deep the woods Thrilled to their inner solitudes; " The At-o-ta-ho ! " e'en the lake Seemed into that one sound to break ; Then the shout fell, as, flashing, sped The comer's eye across the cloud, The Oneidas. 173 And with his hatchet o'er his head, He spoke in tones that rang aloud To every bosom, " Ho, ye braves ! The bloody Yon-non-de-yoh comes To seek us in our forest-homes ! Warriors ! love ye your fathers' graves ? To On-on-dah-gah, braves 1 haste ! haste ! Each foot upon the trail be placed, Gwe-u-gwes, rouse ! like eagles go ! Warriors, all haste ! all meet the foe 1 " THE 0NEIDA8. XXXVIII. Morning had winged its radiance down. Bathing one half the hemlock's head. Tipping the dogwood's lowlier crown, The laurels then beneath it spread. The mist had furled its plumes on high. Blue robed the late flushed, varied sky. And the glad birds their chorus gay Had ceased, to flit from spray to spray ; The deer had left the grassy glade And crouched again within the shade. And the whole forest realm once more A summer day's rich lustre wore. XXXIX. Ku-na-wa-lo-ah's lodges too Were glittering in the golden hue ; 174 Frontenac. The circling palisades were bright And the short lanes were streaked with light. XL. As the great orb on tiptoe stood Upon a neighboring knoll of wood, The prophet, a black bearskin spread Around his form, with solemn tread Came to the council house, reared low And long amidst the trodden square ; Pealed out a cry drawn shrill and slow, And as the echo died in air, Warriors in pomp of paint and plume. Sires in bright robes that decked their gloom. Matrons and maids displaying bead And crimson skirt, round every head Thick strawberry-leaves in garlands spread The rich ripe fruit amongst, with speed The narrow ways came thronging through, And in the square their pumbers drew. XLI. There the young Koll of Thunder proud, Whose deeds were on the war-path loud, Stood in his plumaged, painted pride. With the grim prophet at his side. The Stkawberkt Dance. 175 THE STRAWBEKRY DANCE. xtii. Now must the Council square's expanse Echo the usual Strawberry dance, And thanks each bosom render there To Fire and Water, Earth and Air. XLIII. The file, the council house around "Was ranged : — first. Roll of Thunder high. Looking the brave, his actions showed ; The bear-robed prophet next him frowned, Upon the Orient fixed his eye ; And then, with sight that eager glowed, The stalwart warriors ; then the sires, Burning with all their manhood's fires ; And last the women, every glance Flashing impatient for the dance. XLIV. Beside the council building's door The rude bowl-drum a patriarch bore. While took a youth beside him stand. With the gourd-rattle* in his hand. * GUB-ta-we-sa, a gonrd filled with dry beans. 24 176 Feontbnac. XLV. Upon them, from tlie eastern sky, Looked Hah-wen-ne-yo's blazing eye ; His azure breast was o'er tbem gleaming Witb clouds in wreatbs of spotless hue, A band of his good genii seeming The coming grateful rite to view. XL VI. The soft yet brilliant sunshine streamed On round-topped lodge and palisade ; In rising quick pulsations gleamed O'er the domed maize-fields next arrayed. And flashed upon the leafy dress Of the encircling wilderness. XL VII. First, Roll of Thunder bowed his head To where the sun its splendor shed. Then waved his arm — the drum awoke, The rattle into clatterings broke ; And forward, with his rocking feet, The chief began the ground to beat, Swelling his guttural anthem strain. Followed by all the stamping train, Each joining in at every close Where Hah-wen-ne-yo's praise arose ; While the long ring the square around. Like a slow coiling serpent wound. The Steawbbrry Dance. 177 1. " Earth, we thank thee ! thy great frame Bears the stone from whence we came, And the boundless sweeping gloom, Of our glorious League the home ; Thou the strawberry's seed dost fold, Thou its little roots dost hold. First of all the fruits that raise Grifts for us in summer days. Thanks, too, thanks we give thee, lowly, Hah-wen-ne-yo great and holy ! Maker, wise ! of all the sire, Earth and Water, Air and Fire ! " Water, thanks ! we safely glide On thy bosom long and wide ; In thy rills their way that take Through sweet flowers our thirst we slake ; Thou dost give the strawberry-vine Drink, when hot the sunbeams shine, Till its leaves spread fresh and bright. And its buds burst forth in white. Thanks, too, thanks we give thee, lowly, Hah-wen-ne-yo, great and holy ! Maker, wise ! of all the sire, Earth and Water, Air and Fire ! 178 Frontenac. 3. " Air, we thank thee ! for the breeze Sweeping off the dire disease; Thou dost bring the gentle rains; Thou dost cool our feverish veins ; Thou dost kiss the strawberry-flower Nestling in its grassy bower, Till its little-wreath of snow Swings its fragrance to and fro. Thanks, too, thanks we give thee, lowly, Hah-wen-ne-yo, great and holy ! Maker wise ! of all the sire. Earth and Water, Air and Fire ! 4. " Fire, we thank thee ! for thy ball With its glory brightening all, And the blaze which warms our blood, Lights our weed and cooks our food. To thy glance the strawberry swells With its ripening particles, Till the fruit is at our tread In its beauty rich and red. Thanks, too, thanks we give thee, lowly, Hah-wen-ne-yo, great and holy ! Maker, wise ! of all the sire. Earth and Water, Air and Fire ! " The Oanob Voyage. 179 XLVIII. Tie last loud strain had scarcely died, When a light form, with hurried tread, Strode to the panting chieftain's side, Uplifting high a hatchet red, A look — a pause of silence brief. And then " The At-o-ta^ho !" rung In voice of thunder from the chief — Forth, warrior, sire, maid, matron, sprung; " The At-o-ta-ho ! " echoed high ; It filled the woods, it filled the sky. With manhood's shout, and woman's cry, XLIX. " Hark, Oneotas ! " * loud and clear Now swelled on every listening ear The At-o-ta-ho's clarion tones — " Hark ! Yon-non-de-yoh comes to tread Into the dust your father's bones ; Up, warriors ! ere the day be sped ! To On-on-dah-gah as for life, Agreskou6 calls out for strife ! " THE CANOE VOYAGE. L. Two Indians in a bark canoe, Went skimming up a rapid stream * The OneidaB. 180 Frontenac. That lay in many a winding gleam, Tte dark primeval forest through, Here on the brushwood-tangled banks. Rose the tall trees in column'd ranks ; While slanting, there, they closely wove A thick and bowery roof above. Frequent some great elm, undermined. Within the wave its boughs inclined, Causing the water, sliding dark. To wheel and fret in flashing spark. Dead jagged logs lay all about, Black from the shores protruding out ; The tips light tilting as the furrow Caused by the paddles, oh them bore, Or, as the musk-rat scampered o'er. Scared by the dashing to its burrow. Now the stream slumbered in a mass Of shade, like polished sable glass : And now it fluttered o'er its stones. In hollow and aeolian tones. LI. The Tall Pipe-bearer's paddles wide, With rapid dips the waters spurn. While with his usual look of pride. Sits Dawn of Morning at the stern. Each side the climbing laurels spread Their pink-tinged chalices o'erhead ; And now and then the thickets fling So low across their sylvan bowers. The Canoe Voyage. 181 Tie Tall Pipe-bearer's feathers bring The spangled dogwood's creamy flowers Showered, like a sudden fall of snow, Upon the wrinkled glass below ; While in some sweeping aisle of green. The tasseled chesnut on their sight, Where a long sunbeam casts its sheen. Sends flashes quick of golden light. The broken, glancing rift from out, At the white moth low quivering o'er. Leaps like a flying-fish the trout, Then falls with echoing plash before : As threads the prow some channel narrow. The snipe darts from it like an arrow ; To his deep den of knotted roots The otter, a swift shadow, shoots ; Startled from his o'erhanging limb. The blue kingfisher leaves the flood ; Wades from the marge the heron slim, The gorgeous sheldrake seeks the wood. LII. But thickets, spotted all around, Dividing into threads the course. Till scarce a struggling way is found. Proclaim them near the river's source ; And scarce the shallow waters now Float e'en their bubble of a prow, They seek the marge, the bark they lift 182 Frontenac. O'er Deo-wain-sta * tread they swift, Threading the solemn trees that rise In shapes majestic to the skies j And in the stooping light they glide Down wild 0-wah-nah-dah-gah's f tide, That steals, with hroader breast, between The same close wilderness of green. Over this wild magnificence, Laced by the bright meandering streak, Solitude broods nnbroke, intense, Save when some speeding eagle's shriek Startles the air, or howl of wolf Issues from some black bordering gulf. LIII. Now liquid alleys pass they through, Mid sylvan islets set so near That, frighted by the swift canoe. From one another leaps the deer. From tree-top to its opposite They see the flying-squirrel flit Slant on its membrane wings across The narrowed strip of ruffled gloss, Then, down the sparkling frothing rift. The quivering bark shoots free and swift. The Tall Pipe-bearer's ready skill * The Iroquois name for the portage between Wood creek and the Mo- hawk river. + The Iroquois name for the Mohawk river. The Canoe Voyage. 183 Wielding the frail light thing at will ; The pointed rook avoiding now, Toam, like some angry hear's tusk, churning. In its blind pathway, then the prow, As if by instinct, safely turning. iiv. As sunset flushed the sky with red, They came to where a lakelet spread, With domes of clay 'twas spotted o'er. Where beavers plunged and skimmed the wave, Whilst others, busily on the shore, The sapling gnawed, or dragging, gave Its leafy honors to the tide. Towards the twined dam their prize to guide; But as the bark amidst them passed, The sentry struck his blow, and fast Amid a shower of strokes all vanished, Till every sight and sound were banished Of the late bustling scene to tell. With silence settling like a spell. While passed the prow the lakelet calm, And, bowing, crossed the crashing dam. LV. Then, as the night its shadows wrought, The dim tree-slanted brink they sought. Where some wide spruce above them bent Its bristling branches for a tent; 25 184 Frontbnac, And slumbered till the morning came Firing tte heavens with cheerful flame, And sent them once more on their way, With woods and waters glittering gay. THE MOHAWK'S SCALP DANCE. , IiVI. At last, as in the glowing west The sun once more rolled down its crest. They came to where a creek laid down, At the broad stream, its subject crown. Upon the bank, with maizefields green, An Indian palisade was seen ; Between it and the brink, a ring Of painted braves e'en now was forming; As sought the bark a bush — the swing Began, the dance each moment warming; Till, while the drum gave measured stroke, The scalp-song of the warriors woke. 1. " Whoop the whoop ! dance the dance ! Let the knife and hatchet glance ! Peal aloud, aloud, the strain ! Pequod dogs ! they mourn their slain ! Mourn their slain ! the Pequod dogs. How they seek the clustered bogs ! The Mohawk's Scalp Dance. 185 Wave their bloody scalps on higli ! Pequod dogs ! how low they lie ! Low they lie ! the ground is red ! Pequod dogs ! they mourn their dead ! Great Agreskou^ ! to thee Swells our song of victory ! 3. " See our war-path ! far it winds, Pequod hunting-grounds it finds ; Scarce our mark on earth we make ; Now we glide as glides the snake. Pequod dogs are slumbering deep, Near, still near, more near we creep : Now we climb the palisades ; Not a sound the air invades. Not a sound ! crash, crash ! In the lodges now we dash ! Now we dash ! our hatchets fly, Grleam our knives ! They die ! They die ! Grleam our knives ! their scalps we wrench ! Blood in streams their castle drench ! Pequod dogs, like leaves around — See ! they pile the very ground ! See ! they bend like women now ! Whoop ! our foot is on their brow ! Great Agreskou^ ! to thee Swells our song of victory ! 186 Frontbnac. LVII. Ere tlie last shrill-toned echo sank, A figure climbed the shelving bank, Holding a tomahawk on high. Gleaming in deepest vermeil dye, "The At-o-ta-ho!" loudly sounded From every lip, and toward him bounded The Knotted War Club. * " Mohawks, hear ! " The At-o-ta-ho, uttered shrill — " Your battle-whoops peal louder stillj To red Agreskou6 so dear. Braves ! Yon-non-de-yoh comes ! His feet Are on the war-path ! Men of blood ! To On-on-dah-gah like a flood This Matchi-Manitou f to meet ! Away ! stern Bears ! in all your might, Ere on ye dawns again the light ! * Ye-an-te-ka-no in Mohawk. tllatcM-manlton, tad spirit. END OF CANTO SIXTH. CAi;rTO SEVENTH. THE MARCH. THE WAR DANCE. THE COXWeiL. THE QUARREL. THE PRIESTESS. THE SACRED FLAME. OAJSTTO SEVEK'TH. THE MAKCH. AYS sped along, the ru