Stephen Shannon 
 
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 COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT: 
 
'Pascagoula" ^-3f 
 
 Stephen Shannon 
 
 AUTHOR OF 
 "GOLDEN THOUGHTS" 
 
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 ry ^"-5, 
 
 Copyrighted December, 1910 
 Jno. W. Williams, Publisher 
 
 DAVIS, OKLAHOMA, U. S. A. 
 

 \^i^ 
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 On the Southern boundary of Jackson County, 
 Mississippi, is Pas-ca-goii-la Bay, which name is 
 of origin, meaning "Winning Maiden." Ancient 
 Indian legend has it, that back in the dim, 
 almost forgotten past, long before the inva- 
 sion of white settlers in that country, a weaker 
 tribe of Indians were being suppressed by a 
 stronger one. After being practically annihilated, 
 the remaining few assembled on the banks of the 
 beautiful Pas-ca-gou-la and made one more stand 
 for life and liberty; but rather than submit to 
 capture and torture, drowned themselves in tkis 
 bay. From this incident the legendary story 
 "Pas-ca-gou-la" is woven and dedicated to all 
 lovers of nature. 
 
 The Author. 
 
 f-- f'i ■ r. «> 7 8 '<: 
 
PAS-CA-GOU-LA 
 
 Pas-ca-gou-la lov'd the flowers 
 Growing wild on every hand, 
 
 Lov'd to hunt, to fish, to wander 
 Through the dismal timber'd land. 
 
Pascagoula 
 
 Pas-ca-gou-la: "Winning Maiden," 
 
 She was but a red man's child, 
 Dwelling on the Ocean's frontage 
 
 Where the winds blew fierce or mild; 
 Raven locks of dangling tresses, 
 
 Matted thick her comely head; 
 Features strong, yet kindly mellow'd; 
 
 Pouting lips of cherry red; 
 Form, as perfect as Agnora's; 
 
 Face, as fresh as morning's dew; 
 Eyes, that sparkled as the starling's, 
 
 Pillow'd in ethereal blue; 
 Voice, as sweet as falling waters; 
 
 Disposition, prone to mild, — 
 When arous'd, was like the tempest, 
 
 When at peace, was like a child. 
 
 Pas-ca-gou-la's aged Father, 
 Chief 0-si-ka, rul'd the tribe, 
 
 Rul'd it with an hand of iron 
 That not even fear could bribe. 
 
 Many moons with varied seasons. 
 
 Came in turn and pass'd away, 
 And his daughter, only daughter. 
 
 Grew more handsome day by day; 
 She to him was life and living. 
 
 And the children lov'd her so, 
 That they eager sought and watch'd her 
 
 As we watch the flowers grow; 
 Cautious, lest some lurking danger 
 
 Overtake her unaware; 
 For they scented — as their custom — 
 
 Danger brooding in the air; 
 While the warbucks vow'd by moonlight 
 
 She be fairer than the day. 
 Or the brilliant tropic flowers 
 
 Gently nodding by the way. 
 Even sunbeams seem'd to court her, 
 
 While the dreamy shades of night 
 Linger'd long as if to shield her 
 
 'Till the dawning of the light 
 Drove the dark plutonic shadows 
 
 In the sombre netherwhere, 
 Where a sunbeam held them pris'ners 
 
 Through the daylight foul or fair. 
 
Six 
 
 Pascagoula 
 
 Pas-ca-gou-la lov'd the flowers 
 
 Growing wild on every hand, 
 Lov'd to hunt, to fish, to wander, 
 
 Through the dismal timber'd land; 
 Lov'd to hear the fond dove cooing, 
 
 Lov'd to track the deer and bear, 
 Lov'd to feel the breezes surging 
 
 Through her strands of braided hair; 
 Lov'd to watch the dying sunbeams, 
 
 As they sank to peaceful rest, 
 Kiss the rosy, fleecy bosom 
 
 Of the cloudland of the west. 
 
 In the Cascade's gentle falling 
 
 There was music to her ear, 
 While the thunder's mighty rolling 
 
 Was devoid of every fear; 
 And when lightnings play'd around her 
 
 Leaving in their fiery trail 
 Heaps of wreck and devastation 
 
 At which weaker hearts would quail. 
 She was fearless, bright, and cheerful. 
 
 Trusting that the unseen power 
 Of the great and mighty spirit 
 
 Would protect her every hour. 
 
 To the North, amid the timber 
 
 Where the sands were deep and white, 
 Roam'd a tribe, rul'd by a Chieftain 
 
 Known to all as Raven Night. 
 He was young, and tall, and handsome, 
 
 With an eye as black as coal. 
 Which, when tum'd to scrutinize you, 
 
 Pierc'd you to your very soul. 
 But with features rightly painted. 
 
 And his headband feather strung, 
 He was admiration's picture 
 
 To the aged and the young. 
 Neither minded he the weather 
 
 Nor the wild beast crouching near; 
 He was courage — daring courage - 
 
 Minus every phase of fear. 
 
 In his tribe was Min-eo-la, 
 
 Who had lov'd him many years. 
 
 Lov'd him with a sweet devotion, 
 Lov'd him through foreboding fears; 
 
 But his heart belong'd another, 
 
Pascagoula 
 
 And he thus unsatisfied, 
 Tired of the fond affection 
 
 Of the one he chose as bride; 
 And his heart breath'd forth a longing 
 
 For some maiden yet unknown, 
 And amid the twilight's gloaming 
 
 Often ponder'd he alone. 
 
 One day in the budding springtime, 
 When the breeze was balmy mild, 
 And the vvarm congenial sunshine 
 
 Kiss'd to life the flowers wild, 
 Raven Night, betook him, straying 
 Far and southward from his tent, 
 Fill'd with restless fascination, 
 
 — On some unknown errand bent. 
 On he plodded, through the timber, 
 
 Cross'd the dells and valleys wide, 
 Fording streams whose undulations 
 
 Murmur'd as the ebbing tide. 
 In his life, there was a void, 
 
 And his heart was sad and sore, 
 And an impulse strange controll'd him 
 
 That had not controll'd before. 
 And it drove him, drove him, drove him. 
 
 On and on he knew not where, 
 
 'Mid the birds of brilliant plumage, 
 
 'Mid the flowers scented rare. 
 
 Raptur'd by the vernal scen'ry. 
 
 Little thought he that the day 
 Which was waning would but find him 
 
 From his wigwam far away. 
 Still the sun was slowly setting. 
 
 And the stars soon twinkling bright, 
 Shed their rays of consolation 
 
 On a prodigal that night. 
 
 Flower-strewn, the couch he lay on, 
 And the fairies had their say on, 
 (While the pale and mellow moonbeams 
 
 Wrapp'd him in a sheen of light); 
 And they told him in the morning 
 To be going, yet a warning 
 Vouch'd they of a southern maiden 
 
 Who would win his heart at sight. 
 
 Then they left him, sweetly sleeping. 
 Guarded by the starlings peeping 
 
Eight Pascagoula 
 
 Through the veil of fleecy cloudland 
 
 Floating in the arched blue. 
 He was dreaming, yes, was dreaming 
 Of an unknown face, which, seeming 
 Mirror'd back the fond emotions 
 
 Of his brave heart, staunch and true. 
 
 Soon, the faint grey of the dawning 
 
 Heralded the coming morning, 
 
 And the Chief refresh'd but yawning 
 
 Rous'd him from his nights repose. 
 Sunbeams only shone the brighter, 
 Zephyrs blew both soft and lighter, 
 And Chief Raven 'though a fighter, 
 
 On a trip with Cupid goes. 
 
 And he swam the river rushing. 
 Traveled through the marshes slushing. 
 Halted at the fountains gushing 
 
 To refresh his heated brow. 
 He was going! going!! going!!! 
 Why or where, was not his knowing, 
 And the silent zephyrs blowing 
 
 Fann'd him courage then and now. 
 To the south arose a hill, 
 Where the evening Whippo-will 
 Sang its most harmonious trill 
 
 In the twilight's purpling glow. 
 Here, the trees grew tail and straight; 
 Here, the sunbeams linger'd late; 
 Here, the dove coo'd to his mate. 
 
 Near the streamlet's silent flow. 
 
 Thither, Raven wound his way; 
 It was near the close of day, 
 And the sunset's genial ray 
 
 Mellow'd softer in the west. 
 Slow but sure with weary stride, 
 Climb'd he up the billet's side, 
 Full intending to confide 
 
 To its solitude for rest. 
 
 As he stood after his trip, 
 
 On the billet's utmost tip, 
 
 Viewing all the country 'round 
 
 From the hill range to the sound, 
 
 In the valley lying low 
 
 Where the denser cane-brakes grow, 
 
i^rni 
 
 ^- ' . I, 
 
 RAVEN NIGHT 
 
 But with features rightly painted, 
 And his headband feather strung. 
 
 He was admiration's picture 
 To the aged and the young. 
 
d 
 
 i 
 
Pascagoula 
 
 Nine 
 
 He espied the tented camp 
 
 Of 0-si-ka's tribe on tramp, 
 
 And he watch'd them, 'till the day, 
 
 Waning, pal'd, and died away; 
 
 Then he lay him down to sleep 
 
 In that woodland dense and deep 
 
 Yearning, longing, dreaming there 
 
 Of a maiden young and fair 
 
 With a wealth of raven hair 
 
 Waving in the balmy air 
 
 And whose face of beauty rare 
 
 Any heart-chords would ensnare 
 
 Ere the victim was aware 
 
 Of the how, or when, or where. 
 
 One by one the hours rolled 
 
 Slowly into yesterday; 
 One by one the moonbeams chas'd 
 
 Starbeams into mist away. 
 One by one the nightingales 
 
 Ceas'd their trills of yester yore 
 While a soothing, drowsy peace 
 
 Bath'd the earth from shore to shore. 
 
 Raven, sweetly dreaming there. 
 Was not in the least aware 
 He was being guarded then 
 By the fiercest, bravest men 
 Of O-si-ka's tribe of fight, 
 Who had spied him ere the night 
 Drap'd with sombre curtains grey 
 All the portals of the day. 
 After 'while the thunderheads 
 'Woke from out their slumber beds, 
 And went sailing through the sky 
 On some rampage far or nigh. 
 
 Stronger blew the rising breeze 
 Through the tall and sighing trees; 
 While the Ocean's moaning sound 
 Echoed all the country 'round. 
 Screaming sea gulls frantic flew 
 As the wind gusts stronger blew. 
 Darker grew the angry clouds 
 Draping all the sky like shrouds; 
 Then the lightning's vivid flash, 
 Follow'd by the thunder's crash 
 Shook from off the trembling earth 
 
Pascagoula 
 
 Every sound or phase of mirtti. 
 Trees were twisted by the gale, 
 Thresh'd and beat by rain and hail, 
 For an hurricane of power 
 Held in grasp that wretched hour, 
 All the tropic country near, 
 Freezing hearts with blighting fear. 
 Driving waves, destructive, grand, 
 Out upon the wooded land, 
 Which, retreating, left to view 
 All the havoc, they could do. 
 
 Timber falling here and there, 
 Scatter'd debris everywhere; 
 Fierce and fiercer wax'd the gale, 
 Large and larger grew the hail: 
 While the lightning's lurid flash 
 Popping as a driver's lash. 
 Struck the ground on every hand, 
 Moulding glass of melted sand; 
 And, the thunder's mighty roar 
 Was re-echoed o'er and o'er, 
 'Till at last it seem'd to be 
 Filling all immensity. 
 
 Raven, waken' d with a start, 
 Fear was gnawing at his heart; 
 And a limb of timber dead 
 In its falling struck his head, 
 Felling him upon the ground 
 With an ugly, painful wound, 
 Where he semi-conscious lay, 
 While the storm plough'd on its way, 
 Unoppos'd in all its might, 
 Through the darkness of the night, 
 Leaving in its fearful wake 
 Twisted trees it could not break, 
 Shredded leaves and shredded flowers 
 That bespoke its sovereign powers. 
 
 Summoning his waning powers 
 After some unconscious hours. 
 Raven thought to start his way 
 Ere should fully dawn the day, 
 O'er the hills and valleys wide. 
 Up the rolling mountain side. 
 Where the tribe he'd left behind, 
 In their leisure sweet reclin'd. 
 
Pascagoula 
 
 But, O-si-ka's warrior's bold 
 Seiz'd him with their mighty hold, 
 Seiz'd and held him as a clasp 
 In their unrelenting grasp. 
 
 He for lack of blood and food, 
 Fainted at their conduct rude. 
 And was borne by warriors bold 
 To O-si-ka's wigwam old, 
 Where the Chief in cheerful glee 
 Sentenc'd him, without a plea. 
 To a death by arrow's dart 
 Piercing midway through his heart. 
 
 Chief O-si-ka's tribe was small, 
 Scarce two hundred all in all, 
 While the band of Raven Night 
 Was an awe-inspiring sight; 
 For his men were large and straight. 
 And from morn 'till evening late, 
 Tramp'd the hills and plains for game 
 (And they brought it when they came) 
 Bent the bow and forceful shot, 
 Missing seldomly the spot; 
 Playing games that Indians play, 
 Saying things that Indians say. 
 
 Grudges long have sway'd the heart. 
 
 And from them man won't depart, 
 
 'Till he opens to that love 
 
 Ruling all the spheres above. 
 
 That alone, can save his soul 
 
 From their devastating goal; 
 
 And, O-si-ka, strong of mind, 
 
 Yielded to his thoughts unkind, 
 
 Letting his malicious heart 
 
 Unrestrained, act its part; 
 
 For in years not distant born, 
 
 On a chill December mom, 
 
 Chief O-si-ka thought to spy 
 
 The adjacent country nigh; 
 
 And he ventur'd far away, 
 
 Much too far for just a day. 
 
 And a band of warriors bold 
 
 Saw and chas'd him through the cold, 
 
 Up the billet's timber'd side, 
 
 Down and through the valleys wide. 
 
 In the streams and then across, 
 
 Through festooning Spanish moss. 
 
Twelve 
 
 Pascagoula 
 
 Through palmetto, vine and weed, 
 Gallop'd he on foaming steed 
 'Till he reach'd the bottom land, 
 Growing reed-cane tall and grand; 
 There, he hid him out of sight 
 'Till the brooding folds of night 
 Shielded him and bade him go 
 On his journey safe but slow. 
 
 It was Raven's fighting men | 
 
 Who had chas'd him thus, and, when ] 
 
 Chief O-si-ka held their Chief j 
 
 It afforded him relief j 
 
 To condemn him quick to die 'j 
 
 Ere the moon forsook the sky, — ] 
 
 For an Indian ne'er forgives \ 
 Any enemy that lives. 
 
 Raven thought he plainly saw, j 
 
 As he lay upon the straw ■ 
 
 That his days were near an end, i 
 
 And he long'd to make amend,— ■ 
 
 For, a tender heart benight'd, j 
 
 For a fair young life he'd blight'd, ^ 
 For the vows of love he'd plight'd 
 
 To his Min-e-o-la fair. ! 
 
 He, of heart love, cold had theft her j 
 And his action had bereft her 
 Of her reason; thus, he left her 
 
 On the brink of grim despair. ] 
 
 Min-e-o-la lov'd Chief Raven 
 
 With a heart as true as steel, j 
 
 But he only thought he lov'd her, I 
 
 Never truly did he feel i 
 At her heart's shrine he could worship. 
 
 And at others never kneel. i 
 
 Raven lay upon the ground, 
 
 He was most securely bound, j 
 
 And his fever flushed cheek j 
 
 Plainly told him growing weak. 
 
 And, his tired weary brain 
 
 Dream'd of mountain, hill, and plain; 
 
 Dream'd of Min-e-o-la who i 
 
 To his love had proven true; j 
 
 Dream'd of streamlets rushing by | 
 
 From their source in Mountain high; ! 
 
 Dream'd he saw the cascades fall | 
 
 From the rocky ledges tall; l 
 
RAVEN'S DREAM 
 
 He was dreaming, yes, was dreaming 
 Of an unknown face, which seeming 
 Mirror'd back the fond emotions 
 
 Of his brave heart, staunch and true. 
 
Pascagoula 
 
 Thirteen 
 
 Dream'd he saw the murm'ring stream 
 
 Flowing gently as a dream; 
 
 Dream'd he saw his own canoe 
 
 Sprinkled with the morning's dew, 
 
 Floating in the waters blue, 
 
 Hidden for the time from view 
 
 By the underbrush which grew, 
 
 From the river's caving edge 
 
 Back upon the sandy ledge; 
 
 Dream'd he drank from bubbling spring; 
 
 Dream'd he heard the bluebirds sing; 
 
 He of thirst was parching there. 
 
 Dreaming dreams of beauty rare. 
 
 Dreaming life was but a play 
 
 From the dawning of the day 
 
 Until nighthood's shades of deep 
 
 Lull'd the weary ones to sleep. 
 
 Pas-ca-gou-la, passing near, 
 Chanc'd his feeble groan to hear, 
 Saw him lying, bleeding there 
 In the noon day's sunny glare, 
 And she knew he was to die, 
 Ere the May moon left the sky, 
 By a rough and jagged dart 
 Piercing deep into his heart; 
 And she said with bated breath, 
 "I must save him from this death." 
 For she lov'd him then and there; 
 Strok'd his tangled raven hair; 
 Sooth'd the tired, fever'd brow; 
 Cool'd by zephyrs then and now; 
 Bath'd his lips with water cool 
 From the clear, fresh, mossy pool; 
 Sought at once her father dear, 
 With a quaking heart of fear, 
 And besought him on her knees 
 That he once his daughter please; 
 And let Raven live until 
 He could once express his will. 
 Maybe he had run away 
 From his tribe and meant to stay; 
 Maybe he would then decide 
 With 0-si-ka to reside; 
 But 0-si-ka shook his head 
 And these meaning words he said, 
 "I will never cease to dread 
 Until Raven Night is dead." 
 
Pascagoula 
 
 Pas-ca-gou-la that May day 
 Did not take her father's nay! 
 But she took him by the hands, 
 Saying, "Father, thy commands 
 I have ever sought to do, 
 And you know that I love you, 
 I your life, with joy do fill, 
 Never have I cross'd your will, 
 But dear father once for me 
 Show a little sympathy. 
 And let Raven live a week. 
 That he chance a word to speak. 
 Guard him by our trusted men, 
 
 That he cannot get away; 
 Double guard him through the night, 
 
 Single guard him through the day.' 
 Then she took her leave to go, 
 In her usual manner slow. 
 Saying, "Father, let me know. 
 As the day will older grow. 
 Raven Night may live a week, 
 That he have a chance to speak." 
 
 Then, she left him standing where 
 Gusts of balmy, flagrant air 
 Sway'd his locks of braided hair 
 In the sunlight warm and fair. 
 He was wondering if he 
 Should revoke severity. 
 And let Pas-ca-gou-la's whim 
 Take advantage full of him. 
 All she ask'd for, was a week, 
 "That he have a chance to speak," 
 And with warbucks guarding near, 
 There was not slightest fear 
 He could chance to steal away 
 'Twix'd the sunset and the day. 
 And he reason'd in his mind 
 That for once, he would be kind 
 And would grant the slight request 
 Of the one he lov'd the best. 
 Yet, he felt "I'll always dread 
 Until Raven Night is dead, 
 For I feel I'll some day be 
 Punish'd by his treachery." 
 
 In O-si-ka's tribe full small, 
 Dwelt a handsome warbuck tall. 
 
Pascagoula 
 
 Fifteen 
 
 He of fearless father came; 
 Os-ce-o-la was his name. 
 He had won renown and fame, 
 As a slayer of the game 
 And a faithful hunter who 
 Never miss'd a mark he knew. 
 Often he would bend his bow,. 
 Twang the string and let it go. 
 And his arrows, forceful shot, 
 Always hit a vital spot. 
 Much of game, and bear, and deer, 
 Fell with Os-ce-o-la near; 
 And he knew the country 'round 
 From the hill range to the sound, 
 Knew where brambles thickest grew, 
 Knew where berries cluster'd blue. 
 Knew where Raven's mighty men 
 Came and dwelt, and went again, 
 Knew where game did much abound. 
 Knew where fishes could be found 
 In profusion, great and small, 
 From the Springtime 'till the Fall; 
 Knew where varmint, beast and bird 
 Chose the wintry months to herd. 
 
 If he found a squirrel spry 
 Oft' he shot it through the eye: 
 He could hit a blue bird small 
 In its quick descending fall. 
 Once to show what he could do, 
 In his tribal comrades view, 
 Shot a blushing berry red 
 Off an Indian Maiden's head; 
 Whereupon 0-si-ka old, 
 Gave to him a ring of gold; 
 Rais'd his hand and firmly said, 
 "He's your chief when I am dead" 
 "And my only child," said he, 
 "Willingly I give to thee, 
 As a faithful loving wife. 
 To abide you through this life. 
 You may take her on the day 
 I, in dying, pass away." 
 
 Os-ce-o-la from that hour 
 Exercis'd his every power 
 Pas-ca-gou-la's hand to claim, 
 For to wed her was his aim, 
 
Sixteen Pascagoula 
 
 And he dream'd of her by night, \ 
 
 'Neath the twinkling heaven's bright, 
 
 And his thoughts of her by day j 
 
 Drove all other thoughts away; 1 
 
 But she never seem'd to care ] 
 
 For his pledges plighted fair. 
 
 He could unmistaking see, ! 
 
 She sought not his company, 
 
 And her actions fiU'd his heart 
 
 With a lover's jealous dart. 
 
 Scarce left she her Father's tent 
 Unless on some mission bent, 
 Or to wander 'mid the ilowers 
 Through the scent'd leafy bowers, 
 Where the whistling mocking bird, 
 In his sweetest notes was heard; 
 Yet, through all, he lov'd her still. 
 As a man so often will, 
 For he saw her in the rill, 
 And when twilight's whippo-will 
 Sang its farewell evening trill 
 From across the wooded hill, 
 In its notes of melody 
 He could sense a sympathy. 
 For it seem'd sometimes to say, 
 "You will live to see the day 
 When sweet Pas-ca-gou-la fair, 
 With her wealth of raven hair, 
 Will not with disdainful air 
 Fill your life with deep dispair. 
 But cloth'd in her beauty rare 
 She will lift all blighting care 
 From your heart, and bid you live 
 In the lovelight she can give." 
 Then, alas! The spell would break, 
 
 Then, his fearful heart would quake, ; 
 
 And distressing dreams would roll 
 Surging through his longing soul. 
 Then, the future painted he 
 
 Fill'd with lonesome misery. I 
 
 \ 
 
 Once he gather'd roses wild, 
 Growing where the breezes mild 
 Fann'd their cheeks from early mom 
 
 Until evening dewdrop born ! 
 
 Kiss'd the sand and dust away, 
 
 From their petals pink and gay, i 
 
 I 
 
Pascagoula 
 
 And he tied them with a bow 
 Of Palmettoes white, which grow^ 
 All the plains and valleys o'er, 
 In the swamps and on the shore, 
 And with twinkle in his eye 
 Pass'd he Pas-ca-gou-Ia by, 
 And with a smile as sweetly giv'n 
 As if newly born from heaven, 
 Plac'd the boquet on the breast 
 Of the one he lov'd the best, 
 She receiv'd them in her style 
 With a smile, — a modest smile. 
 
 Once, he took the ring of gold 
 
 That O-si-ka gave to him. 
 And in manner suave, but bold 
 Plac'd it on her finger slim; 
 But she in a manner cold 
 
 Slipp'd it off her finger trim, 
 Handing it right back to him. 
 Then, she turning quickly went 
 To her father's welcome tent. 
 Where with light'd kindling wood 
 She prepar'd their evening food. 
 
 Os-ce-o-la's longing heart 
 Never ceas'd its wooing part; 
 Many times he cast his eye 
 T'ward the blue etherial sky. 
 And in visions of the air 
 Painted Pas-ca-gou-la there, 
 Seated on a rosy cloud, 
 Cloth'd in beauty's fairest shroud, 
 With a radiant, smiling face 
 — Angel of his waning race; 
 And when Os-ce-o-la heard 
 Pas-ca-gou-la spoke a word 
 In behalf of Raven Night, 
 All his soul was in a fright, 
 And he jealous grew at sight, 
 And he long'd for blood, and fight. 
 With Chief Raven ere the night 
 Blotted out the fading light. 
 
 And he rush'd to warbucks grim 
 Saying, "Let's away with him. 
 For when he will stronger feel. 
 He away from us will steal, 
 
Eiehtcen Pascogoula 
 
 And with all his mighty men 
 Will return to us again, 
 Kill or carry one and all 
 To his land of timber tall, 
 Pas-ea-gou-la will go too 
 Home with him, his will to do, 
 For I feel she loves to day 
 Raven in her cunning way. 
 And will love him all the more 
 When the summer days are o'er. 
 I will someday be your chief, 
 And 'twill be to her relief, 
 As she does not love me here, 
 To go with him over there. 
 And be chief-sqiiaw of a tribe 
 I for numbers can't describe. 
 Chief 0-si-ka, said that she. 
 Mine in future was to be. 
 She is mine, and cannot go 
 To his land, for well I know 
 I will surely Raven kill 
 Ere the sun sets o'er the hill. 
 Whoop! The day is growing late. 
 Why should we the longer wait? 
 Raven Night shall surely die 
 E'er the moon climbs up the sky; 
 Will you stand warbucks with me 
 I your future Chief to be?" 
 
 And they all did loud acclaim 
 
 "Raven's death, shall be our aim." 
 
 And to Chief O-si-ka's tent 
 
 Ran they on their mission bent; 
 
 How the young bloods caught the fire! 
 
 Rais'd their voices high and higher 
 
 'Till the woods for miles around 
 
 Rank with warwhoop's weird sound; 
 
 How they thirsted for the breath. 
 
 For the life, and for the death 
 
 Of a wounded Indian wild 
 
 Lying helpless as a child! 
 
 And they push'd into the tent, 
 
 Ask'd O-si-ka to relent, 
 
 And bring forth Chief Raven Night, 
 
 That he have a chance to fight 
 
 With a rough and flinty knife 
 
 Os-ce-o-la for his life; 
 
 Raven lay upon the ground. 
 
 Weak and bleeding from his wound, 
 
Pascagoula 
 
 Nineteen 
 
 And could scarcely lift a hand, 
 
 Much less walk, or fight, or stand; 
 
 And 0-si-ka's ruling word 
 
 At this moment firm was heard: 
 
 "I have promis'd her a week, 
 
 That he have a chance to speak." 
 
 "But," said they, "Our Chieftain, you 
 
 Know what Raven Night will do 
 
 Should he chance to get away 
 
 'Twixt the twilight and the day; 
 
 He would surely come again 
 
 With his eager fighting men, 
 
 And would kill you with his knife. 
 
 Claim your daughter as his wife, 
 
 Butcher men, and capture all 
 
 Of the squaws and papoose small." 
 
 When 0-si-ka heard their reason, 
 Arguments were out of season, 
 So he said, "My daughter, I 
 Must your one request deny, 
 For my men have shown to me 
 What the fearful cost might be 
 Should this pris'ner get away 
 As the moonbeams tender play; 
 And, you know in seasons past 
 As a damp and chilling blast 
 Swept the land from shore to shore, 
 Turning many wigwams o'er 
 I was riding through the sand, 
 Spying out a better land 
 When the band of Raven Night 
 Coming, gave me such a fright 
 Chasing me for many miles 
 Through the thick, untroden wilds, 
 And if they had caught me there. 
 You would never known the where 
 Or the how your father died 
 In those marshes wild and wide. 
 Will he die? why, yes, he'll die. 
 Ere the stars shine out on high. 
 By a sharp and flinty dart 
 Piercing midway through his heart. 
 
 Who will now perform the task, 
 Is a question I will ask? 
 I'm too old to shoot a dart 
 Strong enough to reach his heart." 
 
Twenty 
 
 Pascagoula 
 
 All the warbucks answer'd, "I," 
 Each with each did strongly vie 
 For the honor pending nigh. 
 
 Chief 0-si-ka caught a bee, 
 
 Went and pinn'd it on a tree. 
 
 "Take your bows and shoot," said he, 
 
 "And whoever kills the bee 
 
 May shoot Raven through the heart 
 
 With a new made flinty dart." 
 
 Many shot and many miss'd 
 
 Some applauded, others hiss'd, 
 
 But when Os-ce-o-la shot, 
 
 He as usual hit the spot, 
 
 Cut the buzzing bee in half. 
 
 Causing loud and boistrous laugh. 
 
 And he claim'd the right to kill 
 
 Raven Night to suit his will. 
 
 While the warbucks shot the mark, 
 
 Pas-ca-gou-la, pull'd the bark 
 
 Off a tough old Elm tree 
 
 Dead and standing near the sea, 
 
 And she hid it, 'neath the fold 
 
 Of her garment, so I'm told. 
 
 Raven Night was carried out 
 By the warbucks young and stout; 
 Then they tied him to a tree, 
 (He was weak as he could be), 
 And could hardly stand alone, 
 (Though to do so he was prone). 
 
 Pas-ca-gou-la coming near 
 Seem'd his fainting heart to cheer. 
 And she stood there while the Chief 
 Pinn'd upon his chest a leaf, 
 That hung in a manner smart 
 O'er the region of his heart. 
 And if struck by arrow shot 
 Would but prove the vital spot. 
 
 Soon the tribe all circled 'round, 
 Soon the arrow new was found. 
 And the victor quick began 
 For the killing of his man, 
 Pas-ca-gou-la, all the while 
 Stood by Raven with a smile 
 
mmu- 
 
 EXECUTION 
 
 Pas-ca-gou-la. all the while 
 Stood hy Raven with a smile 
 With her hand, so I am told, 
 On the rough bark, dry and mold. 
 
Pascagoula 
 
 Twenty-one 
 
 Playing o'er her features mild 
 In those tangled regions wild, 
 With her hand, so I am told, 
 On the rough bark, dry and mold, 
 Hidden 'neath the hiding fold 
 Of her garment loose and old. 
 
 As a mocker faintly sang, 
 
 Sharp she heard the bow-string twang, 
 
 And before they scarce could see 
 
 She impulsive, instantly 
 
 Drew the bark from out the fold 
 
 Of her roomy garment old, 
 
 Which she thrust o'er Raven's heart 
 
 And caught firm the flinty dart. 
 
 Which sank deep into the bark. 
 
 Missing once its fatal mark. 
 
 Quick she seiz'd the arrow's staff 
 
 Chuckling to herself a laugh. 
 
 Held it in defiant way, 
 
 Holding all the crowd at bay. 
 
 And she stood by Raven Night 
 
 Full determin'd there to fight. 
 
 And to plunge the flinty dart 
 
 Into Os-ce-o-la's heart 
 
 And he dar'd to harm a hair 
 
 Of the pris'ner fainting there; 
 
 Chief O-si-ka knew full well 
 He'd be wasting time to tell 
 Pas-ca-gou-Ia she could go 
 From the man she worshipp'd so. 
 So he call'd the warbucks 'round, 
 Bade them sit upon the ground. 
 Told them what he had to say 
 In a straight, commanding way; 
 Saying Raven Night could live 
 Just one week, and then he'd give 
 Os-ce-o-la leave to kill 
 Raven Night to suit his will. 
 
 Os-ce-o-la said that he 
 
 Would abide the Chief's decree, 
 
 But a guard must guard him right, 
 
 Two by day and three by night; 
 
 And they guarded him that way 
 
 Through the night and through the day. 
 
Twenty-two 
 
 Pascaguola 
 
 Pas-ca-gou-la frequent there 
 
 Manifested patient care, 
 
 In the wounded pris'ner who 
 
 Knew not what to say or do; 
 
 Fed him many times a day 
 
 In her own peculiar way 
 
 On what food she could command 
 
 Dress'd by her own cautious hand. 
 
 Os-ce-o-la's jealous heart 
 Made him doubly play his part, 
 For he wanted Raven Night 
 Out of camp and out of sight, 
 And he car'd not how he died. 
 So he deadly poison tried. 
 
 Out he strode into the wood, 
 Kiil'd a deer large, fat, and good, 
 Dress'd the juicy, tender meat 
 In a tempting manner neat. 
 Then he went and cut a pole 
 Growing near the fishing hole, 
 Tied to it the choicest steak. 
 Hunted till he found a snake, 
 And he often pok'd the steak 
 In the face of hissing snake. 
 Until deadly rattlesnake 
 Many times had bit the steak. 
 Then the steak he broiled rare, 
 Brought it to the maiden fair, 
 And requested that she feed 
 Raven Night as was his need; 
 "For it be against his will 
 Any hungry man to kill." 
 
 Pas-ca-gou-la took the broil. 
 
 Laid it gently on the soil, 
 
 And remark'd, "that she would feed 
 
 Raven Night as was his need." 
 
 In her heart she seem'd to know 
 
 Os-ce-o-la as a foe. 
 
 And she knew, that, jealous, he 
 
 Would resort to treachery. 
 
 So she said, "I first must eat 
 
 Of this choicest bit of meat," 
 
 And with knife of flinty stone 
 
 Cut a slice from near the bone, 
 
 And was just about to eat. 
 
 Of the tempting, juicy meat 
 
Pascaguola 
 
 Twenty-three 
 
 When, though young in point of age, 
 Os-ce-o-la, full of rage, 
 Snatch' d the meat from out her hand. 
 Threw it down upon the sand, 
 For a while upon it stood. 
 Then he kick'd it in the wood, 
 For he knew that he was caught 
 And his plans had come to naught. 
 So he boldly strode around. 
 Stamping firmly on the ground, 
 Then toward Raven bent his walk. 
 In his hand his tomahawk; 
 He was boiling o'er with rage. 
 Much too much for one his age. 
 
 Pas-ca-gou-la knew that he, 
 Fill'd with lover's jealousy, 
 Would kill Raven, if he could. 
 So she ran to where he stood. 
 Took her bow and took her stand, 
 With an arrow in her hand, 
 While her meaning, flashing eye 
 Spoke no act she would deny 
 To award the pris'ner there 
 Personal protecting care. 
 
 Os-ce-o-la knew that she 
 Was a shot as well as he, 
 And determin'd as could be 
 When arous'd through jealousy; 
 So he paus'd his onward walk, 
 Plac'd his stony tomahawk, 
 Underneath the rawhide pelt. 
 Feather-strung he used as belt. 
 Morn and evening died away, 
 Then was born another day. 
 And with each succeeding dew 
 Raven Night t!ie stronger grew. 
 
 Soon would pass the week away, 
 Soon would come the fatal day 
 When the soul of Raven Night 
 Would take its eternal flight 
 Where the game did much abound. 
 And were tame and easy found. 
 Where the winds were never cold. 
 Where the natives grew not old. 
 Where the flowers never die. 
 Where the storm-clouds of the sky 
 
Twenty-four 
 
 Pascagoula 
 
 Never came, but sunbeams fair 
 Drove disorders far from there. 
 And the blossoms fill'd the air 
 With their redolescence rare. 
 
 Chief O-si-ka ask'd if he 
 One of them would constant be, 
 But he simply shook his head 
 Speaking not a word instead. 
 "Well, then," said O-si-ka nigh, 
 "On the morrow you shall die. 
 I have given you a week 
 That you have a chance to speak, 
 And I ask you once again. 
 In the presence of these men, 
 Will you stay or will you go? 
 Speak and tell us, yes or no!" 
 But he only look'd away 
 At the sun's declining ray. 
 Seeming, not the least to care 
 Who was speaking to him there; 
 Heeded not 0-si-ka's voice, 
 Who had given him his choice. 
 And was seeking then, to please 
 Pas-ca-gou-la on her knees. 
 
 Pas-ca-gou-la sought to save 
 Raven from a captive's grave. 
 Well she knew, O-si-ka old. 
 With his heart of stony mold 
 Never would consent to give 
 Raven Night a chance to live; 
 Unless he would join their band 
 In their own fair native land. 
 
 Something must be quickly done 
 
 If the vict'ry would be won. 
 
 For in just another day, 
 
 Ere the sunbeams died away. 
 
 Raven Night would surely die 
 
 Shot by Os-ce-o-la nigh. 
 
 As the eve was passing by, 
 
 Pas-ca-gou-la with a sigh, 
 
 Rambled far into the wood 
 
 Searching there as best she could 
 
 For a wanted herbage green 
 
 Which was scarce and seldom seen. 
 
 Not another of the tribe 
 
 Could this slumber plant describe, 
 
Pascagoula 
 
 Twenty-five 
 
 But a squaw of olden days 
 
 Had reveal'd to her its ways, 
 
 And remark'd in thoughtless chat 
 
 Of its virtues, saying that, 
 
 "Once a victim of its powers 
 
 One would pleasant sleep for hours. 
 
 Pas-ca-gou-la waded through 
 Underbrush and brambles too, 
 Searching 'round for weary hours, 
 'Mid the thick festooning bowers, 
 "Till at last she found a weed 
 Laden'd with a pod of seed 
 Which she gather'd and away, 
 Near the closing of the day. 
 
 After long and tedious tramp 
 Pas-ca-gou-la reach'd the camp. 
 But the weed was hidden well, 
 (Where she hid it none can tell), 
 But she hid it, so I'm told, 
 'Neath the well secluding fold 
 Of her garment neat but old, 
 Worth to her its weight in gold, 
 As a place to hide the weed 
 And its sleep producing seed. 
 
 Soon the sun sank in the west; 
 Soon the song-birds went to rest ; 
 Soon the twinkling stars of night. 
 Shed their soft'ning rays of light 
 O'er the hills and valleys wide 
 And upon the Ocean's tide. 
 
 Pas-ca-gou-la all the while. 
 Smiling to herself a smile, 
 Made a most delicious potion 
 Made entirely to her notion. 
 And into this potion mild, 
 Mix'd her seed of herbage wild, 
 Pour'd it into earthern bowls, 
 Hung it o'er the glowing coals 
 Where she let it cook until 
 All the sleeping camp was still 
 
 Near the center of the night, 
 By the moonbeam's mellow light. 
 
Twenty-six 
 
 Pascagoula 
 
 Pas-ca-gou-la rose to feed 
 Raven Night on Oola* feed, 
 Which contain'd the herb and seed 
 Of the soothing "Slumber Weed." 
 It was tasteless, none could tell 
 It was there by taste or smell. 
 But the Oola she had made 
 In the twilight's lulling shade 
 Was perfum'd by leaves of Bay, 
 Gather'd in the month of May, 
 And it 'woke the appetite 
 Of the guards that balmy night 
 As its odor fill'd the air 
 With its perfume rich and rare 
 Which made hunger hungry grow 
 As they smell'd it once or so. 
 
 Raven Night had been well told 
 Just to take the bowl and hold 
 To his lips, till guards would think 
 He had ample time to drink; 
 Then, to let his drink bowl fall 
 As if weakness caus'd it all. 
 When the Oola would be spill'd 
 As his nurse had full well will'd, 
 
 After she had Raven fed. 
 Lying on his grassy bed, 
 She went to the guards and said, 
 "I have Oola left for you 
 If you'd like a drink or two, 
 And she brought and set it down 
 'Mid the three, all sitting 'round, 
 Smoking pipes and sniffing air 
 Perfum'd by the Oola rare. 
 
 They had many times before 
 Drank the Oola she did pour. 
 And they saw the pris'ner there 
 Quaff it with a trustful air. 
 And they reason'd, "If he drink, 
 It is healthful, do we think 
 Pas-ca-gou-la fair to sight, 
 Would do harm to Raven Night?" 
 So they drank it, — every drop — 
 Ere they did their drinking stop — 
 
 * The potion made by Pas-ca-gou-la. 
 
Pascagoula 
 
 Twenty-seven 
 
 And they relish'd with delight 
 Every drop they drank that night. 
 
 Soon, they all most pleasant grew, 
 As the winged moments flew; 
 Soon, they felt a lulling peace 
 Bid their present sorrows cease, 
 Each one felt his being fill 
 With a sweet benumbing 'till 
 All was but a land of dreams, — 
 Airy, fairy, blissful dreams, — 
 Where a man, though kept for aye 
 Would but long another day, 
 That he dream a little more 
 Ere his blissful dreams were o'er. 
 
 Raven Night with wakeful care 
 Feign'd asleep and resting there; 
 For he thought to steal away 
 Ere was born his fatal day; 
 
 While the guards in slumber lay, 
 
 Pas-ca-gou-la went her way 
 
 Up the valley slightly rais'd 
 
 Where the ponies nightly graz'd 
 
 And she rop'd the fastest two, 
 
 Those whose speed she'd tried and knew. 
 
 Then she brought and tied them well 
 
 In the thicket in the dell. 
 
 Then she went to Raven bound, 
 
 Lying helpless on the ground, 
 
 Rent asunder all his bands 
 
 With her small but nimble hands. 
 
 Then, she help'd him to his feet, 
 
 Bidding him with her retreat 
 
 To the dell where horses stood 
 
 Tied with bark of Elm wood. 
 
 There, she help'd him in his need 
 Mount his restless vv^aiting steed. 
 Then she nimbly jump'd astride 
 Of her pony, "Silverside" 
 Riding off through dismal wood 
 Just as quickly as she could, 
 While the steed which Raven rode 
 Right behind her pacing strode. 
 In her hand, she held the bow 
 And the arrow which you know 
 
Twenty-eight 
 
 Pascagoula 
 
 Os-ce-o-la shot to kill , 
 
 Raven Night as was his will; 
 
 While the sleeping guards behind 
 
 Dream'd their dreams with peaceful mind. ; 
 
 On and on throughout the night ,; 
 
 Rode they, 'till the dawning light I 
 
 Found them many miles away i 
 
 From the scenes of yesterday: | 
 
 Found them in a forest old ' 
 
 Carpeted with leafy mould; 
 
 Found them where the brambles green ; 
 
 Wrapp'd them in their hiding sheen, i 
 
 Wrapp'd, and kept them out of sight i 
 
 'Till the coming of the night i 
 
 Bade them on their journey go | 
 
 Through a land she did not know; ^ 
 
 But she trusted Raven Night i 
 
 In the guiding of their flight. 
 
 And directed he the way i 
 
 Where his tribe in leisure lay. 
 
 In the tribe of Raven Night, 
 
 Min-e-o-la dream'd aright; i 
 
 That her lover, wounded lay 
 
 In a land near by the Bay, 
 
 And she dreamed an Indian maid >\ 
 
 Of a most entrancng shade, j 
 
 Tender nurs'd him back to life, • 
 
 Whom he loving sought as wife. 
 
 It was such a vivid dream, 
 
 That she woke with piercing scream 
 
 That awoke the squaws, and men, [ 
 
 Who rush'd 'round her quick, and then : 
 
 Dipp'd her in the chilling creek 
 
 That the evil spirit speak 
 
 Who they thought seiz'd on her tight i 
 
 In the denser folds of night. \ 
 
 On they rode another night 
 
 In their unarrest'd flight, ; 
 
 Rode while tender moonbeams pale j 
 
 Softly lighted hill and dale, : 
 
 Rode while starbeams fondly kiss'd 
 
 In the blue etherial mist, , 
 
 Rode the hours slow away, 
 
 And the cool grey streaks of day 
 
 Found them, 'Mid Chief Raven't tribe, j 
 
 Which no pen can .lust describe. j 
 
Pascagoula 
 
 Twenty-nine 
 
 Quick, the tribe all gather'd 'round, 
 
 Squatting down upon the ground, 
 
 They were glad, yes, wildly glad, 
 
 Yet was Min-e-o-la sad; 
 
 For she knew the dream she had 
 
 — That which almost drove her mad, — 
 
 Was the truth, for standing there 
 
 Was the maiden young and fair. 
 
 Who had won Chief Raven's heart, 
 
 Won and kept it from the start. 
 
 Yet she never cried a cry. 
 
 Neither sigh'd she once a sigh, 
 
 Yet within her inmost soul 
 
 Did an impulse, mighty, roll, 
 
 And she felt the stinging thrash 
 
 Of her ruling passion's lash; 
 
 Yet controll'd herself so well, 
 
 No one could her feelings tell. 
 
 She was jealous as could be. 
 Almost to insanity, 
 But no one this truth could tell 
 She behav'd herself so well; 
 Yet, her heart died then and there, 
 And her soul fill'd with despair. 
 When she saw the maiden come, 
 Bringing wounded Raven home; 
 And from thence her greatest joy 
 Was the thought, "I will destroy 
 Raven Night whose love for me, 
 Growing less, has ceas'd to be, 
 And his life I constant crave, 
 'Till he lies within the grave." 
 
 Pas-ca-gou-la spent the day 
 
 In a most unpleasant way. 
 
 Though the warbucks and the squaws 
 
 Minister'd her every cause 
 
 Still she knew what awful fate 
 
 Did for her at home await. 
 
 So she ate as best she could 
 
 Game fresh slaughtered in the wood. 
 
 And agreed with Raven Night 
 
 To defer her homeward flight 
 
 'Till the rosy gates of morn 
 
 Spoke another day just born. 
 
 As the evening shades drew nigh 
 Pas-ca-gou-la heav'd a sigh. 
 
Thirty Pascagoula 
 
 Shading shadows fast did roll 
 In upon her inmost soul 
 'Till she felt she must away 
 Ere the dawning of the day. 
 So when nighthood kiss'd the hill, 
 And the sleeping camp was still 
 Pas-ca-gou-la 'rose and crept 
 S'oftly by where sentries slept 
 Down to where her Silverside 
 And O-te-ka both were tied. 
 
 Loosing them, she leap'd astride 
 Of her pony Silverside, 
 Making off as best she could 
 Through the tangled, pathless wood; 
 And O-te-ka — though untied — 
 Pac'd behind her Silverside. 
 
 On she rode throughout the night, 
 Through the long entire night. 
 Rode with all her haste and might, 
 Swerving neither left nor right, 
 And when sunbeams warm and bright 
 Fill'd the earth with living light, 
 She was many miles away 
 From the camp of yesterday. 
 And was lost, yes, hopeless lost, 
 As a ship tempestuous toss'd 
 On a rough and trackless sea 
 Bounded by immensity. 
 
 Halting in a valley wide, 
 For a rest, after her ride. 
 She dismounted to the groimd. 
 Left her horses grazing 'round, 
 And betook her to a pool 
 Drinking of its waters cool. 
 There she stay'd a little long 
 List'ning to a mocker's song, 
 That to her own great surprise 
 Seem'd with her to sympathize; 
 And returning late, she found 
 Silverside was no where round, 
 And O-te-ka too had gone 
 With him leaving her alone; 
 Lost, and helpless as a child 
 In those pathless regions wild, 
 With no friends near, save the bird 
 Whose entrancing song she heard; 
 
Pascagoula 
 
 Thirty-one 
 
 And the clear spring, bubbling cool. 
 From the bottom of the pool. 
 
 Sitting down to meditate 
 
 In a manner most sedate, 
 
 She began to realize 
 
 How her acts look to the eyes 
 
 Of her Father, and the tribe 
 
 Whose grave thoughts I can't describe. 
 
 As the day grew on apace, 
 
 Tears bedew'd her anxious face. 
 
 "They will only think of me 
 
 In this manner," slow said she, 
 
 "That I left my father's home. 
 
 With another chief to roam 
 
 That I violated laws 
 
 Of the tribe, without a cause 
 
 Save the cause of love for him 
 
 Whom, they hate with venom's vim," 
 
 And she knew the penalty 
 
 For her grievous perfidy 
 
 Was. — "Each foot be firmly tied 
 
 To a horse, then pull'd astride 
 
 Of a flint 'till split in two 
 
 By the horses tried and true; 
 
 Then deserted — left to die — 
 
 Victim of the ant and fly." 
 
 Meditating on this theme, 
 Life became a senseless dream; 
 Men and women seem'd to be 
 Creatures all of misery; 
 Singing birds and blooming flowers 
 Were mere mockers of the hours; 
 All was chaos, all was strife, 
 Without love or hope of life. 
 Eagerly she pull'd her hair 
 Gnash'd her teeth in wild despair, 
 While protruding eyeballs peer'd 
 At the forms which at her jeer'd 
 And the nails of clenched hands 
 Cut her flesh as iron bands. 
 
 In her heart she felt desire. 
 To destroy with flaming fire 
 Everything, — both man and beast, — 
 From the greatest to the least; 
 
Thirty-two 
 
 Pascagoula 
 
 Felt desire to flee and scream, 
 Plunge beneath the surging stream, 
 Snatch the boughs from growing trees, 
 Beat to pulp the rising breeze; 
 Cut and kill and drink the blood, 
 As a most delicious food, — 
 Felt her brain all in a whirl, 
 With her thoughts all in a twirl, 
 How she longing, long'd to die, 
 Yet death hover'd no where nigh. 
 She was mad, insanely mad, 
 With enraged temper bad. 
 And she wander'd seven days 
 Through the woods in unknown ways 
 Without tasting drink or food 
 As she rambled through the wood; 
 Night to her lost every fear. 
 Daylight lost its every care, 
 Life was but a listless dream, 
 — Just a vague, uncertain dream. 
 
 When the ponies trotted home, 
 
 After days of ceaseless roam; 
 
 Chief 0-si-ka knew that she 
 
 Must returning homeward be. 
 
 So he sent his fleetest men 
 
 That they search for her again. 
 
 And if found, they bind her well, 
 
 Bear her home that he might tell 
 
 Her the tribe will have her die 
 
 Ere the moon fulls in the sky. 
 
 And they left at early morn, 
 
 — Ere the day was hardly born. 
 
 And they rambled far and near, 
 
 List'ning with attentive ear, 
 
 For a sigh or other sound 
 
 That the winds might whisper 'round. 
 
 But no trace of her was found 
 
 'Till they reach'd a timber'd mound; 
 
 There from elevation high 
 
 Os-ce-o-la saw her nigh. 
 
 Mad, and raving as a beast 
 
 On a plain just lying East, 
 
 And the company of three 
 
 Stole upon her silently. 
 
 Caught, and bound with rawhide bands 
 
 Both her feet, and both her hands. 
 
Pascagoula 
 
 Thirty-three 
 
 How she fought them then and there! 
 How she scream'd in her despair! 
 While her tangled raven hair 
 Show'd its lack of usual care. 
 Hard she fought as best she could, 
 While the v/arbucks 'round her stood. 
 Holding her a pris'ner there 
 Subject to their ruthless care, 
 All her struggles were in vain, 
 As her strength was on the wane. 
 And she faint'd to the ground, 
 Near the thickly timber'd mound. 
 There she all unconscious lay 
 At the closing of the day. 
 
 Soon the warbucks, three, astir, 
 In their strength, quick lifted her 
 On the back of S'ilverside 
 There they bound her, firmly tied, 
 With their new cut rawhide bands, 
 Cut in strong but narrow strands 
 And began their homeward tramp 
 Through the evening twilight damp. 
 
 Long and rough their journey lay 
 O'er the rambling, winding way. 
 Through the brush and brambles green, 
 Through the tallest timber seen. 
 Through the darkness of the night. 
 Without aid of guiding light. 
 
 And they travel'd in this way 
 'Till the dawning of the day. 
 Os-ce-o-la rode ahead 
 While a second, firmly led 
 Silverside; and, number three 
 Rode behind, a guard to be. 
 
 Through the long and dreary night 
 Pas-ca-gou-la scream'd with fright. 
 For she seem'd to realize 
 She was in the hands of spies 
 Who would love to see her die 
 On the feast day drawing nigh. 
 Then she'd seem to nothing know. 
 Then, she'd try her boat to row, 
 Then she'd laugh, and then she'd cry. 
 Then she'd long again to die. 
 
Tliirty-four 
 
 Pascagoula 
 
 Then she'd sing this little song, 
 Through the dreary moments long: 
 "I love him who loveth me 
 Dwelling northward from the sea," 
 After which, she'd quiet grow 
 Half way seeming things to know, 
 Then she'd quick begin to hum. 
 Wild in her delirium. 
 
 Os-ce-o-la heard her song, 
 As they journey'd slow along. 
 And he knew she sang of him 
 Whom he hated with such vim, 
 And who yet he hop'd to kill 
 In a way to suit his will; 
 And he all the madder grew 
 As they homeward nearer drew; 
 And he vow'd by might and main. 
 If he ever saw again, 
 Raven Night, he'd "Shoot a dart 
 Deep into his hated heart." 
 
 Careful rode they through the night. 
 And the dawning of the light 
 Found them near the tented camp 
 Of 0-si-ka's tribe on tramp; 
 Found them near their Chieftain old, 
 With a heart of stony mold, 
 Who had never, never known 
 What it was to weep or mourn; 
 Who could shoot a flinty dart 
 Deep into a human heart, 
 And if need be drink their blood 
 As it gush'd in crimson flood. 
 
 In his heart, there was no fear. 
 In his life there was no care. 
 And he only sought to live 
 That in living he might give 
 To the one who crossed his way 
 Trouble both by night and day. 
 
 When the Chief look'd on the face 
 Of that remnant of his race. 
 And saw eyes protruding stare 
 At some object in the air. 
 Heard her faint cry of alarm 
 At imaginary harm. 
 
Pascagoula 
 
 Thirty-five 
 
 Saw her form so waste and thin, 
 
 With a faint smile now and then, 
 
 Playing o'er the features wild 
 
 Of his now dement'd child; 
 
 Just for once he felt his heart 
 
 From its nature cold depart; 
 
 And he order'd she be fed. 
 
 Given drink and put to bed, 
 
 — 'Though the first impulse he felt 
 
 Was to take from out his belt 
 
 His much trusted hunting knife 
 
 And bleed out her waning life; 
 
 For he knew the tribe would claim 
 
 She had forfeited her name 
 
 And the custom long had been. 
 
 From beginning, down to then, 
 
 That when either squaw or man 
 
 Quit the tribe or from it ran. 
 
 And was captur'd, quick should be 
 
 Tortur'd most severely; 
 
 Then each foot be firmly tied. 
 
 To a horse, then, pulled astride 
 
 Of a flint 'till cut in two 
 
 By the horses one and two. 
 
 And he knew his daughter there. 
 
 Still to him all that v/as fair. 
 
 Would be call'd upon to go 
 
 Through his painful torture slo\r, 
 
 And as chief, he must uphold 
 
 Tribal law in manner bold. 
 
 So he call'd to council then. 
 
 All the squaws as well as men, 
 
 And before them laid her case, 
 
 Hiding every tinge or trace 
 
 Of emotion's saving grace 
 
 Finding in his heart a place. 
 
 Os-ce-o-la, young and brave, 
 
 Was destin'd her life to save; 
 
 So he pleaded with the men, 
 
 With the Chief, the squaws, and then 
 
 Pleaded that at least they give 
 
 Her another moon to live; 
 
 "For," said he, 'twill be too kind 
 
 If we kill her out of mind 
 
 She has violated laws 
 
 And must suffer, for this cause. 
 
 And to suffer she must be 
 
 In her conscious mind," said he; 
 
Pascagoula 
 
 For he lov'd yes, loVd her still 
 And. a5 loTers al^rays tstIL 
 
 He detenniii'd ihere to are 
 Pas-ca-goa-la rrom ite grave. 
 If TO sare her te musi kill 
 ETery one ^to cross' d Ms vilL 
 
 So by wori of srraie^y- , 
 
 He preraHe-f. entirely, \ 
 
 And iJie tribe did cc-nseni riTe 
 TzSiZ sle have a il:»c- "o live." 
 
 Ai tie cajs ^en: slowly by. ' 
 
 Os-ce— c-la sGn.£iii zo szj , 
 
 TliroiLgli the trTZ'e. ani fni o^: ^ho 
 
 Woiild be -virillijig :: 
 
 For one time, iheir - r-~^ 
 
 ?^s-ca-goi2-la leare to iiTe: 
 
 Fcr her acts gave eTldence 
 
 Of renzmine to her sense; 
 
 And their la »- coold not he changd 
 
 While a Toice against it rang-'d 
 
 And throigh years niichaiig'd it siixvi 
 
 They c-3'zld change it if they wo:ild: 
 
 For all they wonii hare t-o c: 
 
 Was to slay a deer :r — ^: 
 
 And each sip a sir 
 
 As it fIo*rd in ciini; _ _ :i 
 
 And acclaim "with one Si.c-Z'OTt 
 
 "That a new law we record. 
 
 And the old shall pass away 
 
 With the passing of this day"' 
 
 And if no one answerd •"nay."' 
 
 Thez ".he ill law pzss'd awaj. 
 
 Chief O-si-Va c:-„i =.:: i^h | 
 
 .Any one to do his tas^:: | 
 
 Though it broke his aged heart i 
 
 With his only chili to part, j 
 
 StUL as Chief he r-nst obey ? 
 
 All the laws and name the day \ 
 
 On which Pas-ca-goti-la yonng J 
 
 Was to dwell the c.^^1 among: 
 
 So he namd :i ~ -r 
 
 Jnst before tl. - z_: :z 
 
 "Tor/" said he. When todies die 
 
 When the mocn inll in -h= sky 
 
 Spirits go wl-i 
 
 To the happy -^ ^-i^ii. 
 
Pascagoula 
 
 Thirty-seven 
 
 So I heard a great Chief say, 
 When as but a child I lay 
 Sick and wasting day by day 
 In a land, across the bay." 
 
 Os-ce-o-la artful talk'd. 
 
 As among the tribe he walk'd; 
 
 And he found out all but two 
 
 Would be willing to undo 
 
 Tribal custom, and to give 
 
 Pas-ca-gou-la leave to live, 
 
 If she'd swear by the rising moon, 
 
 Which would having its fulling soon. 
 
 That she never, day or night 
 
 Would elope with Raven Night, 
 
 But would wed the coming Fall 
 
 Os-ce-o-la blithe and tall. 
 
 Who would be the reigning Chief 
 
 After just a season, brief; 
 
 But the two who claim'd that she 
 
 Pay in full the penalty 
 
 Were 0-le-ka, short and spry. 
 
 And 0-le-pa, slim and high; 
 
 They had lov'd her, it is said. 
 
 But she lov'd someone instead, 
 
 And they felt it was their time 
 
 Her to punish for this crime. 
 
 So, they oft' together walk'd. 
 
 And together long, they talk'd; 
 
 And the tribe all knew that they 
 
 Look'd in glee, upon the day, 
 
 When the moon would make its full. 
 
 And the horses make their pull 
 
 That would slowly cut in two 
 
 Pas-ca-gou-la, young and true. 
 
 Os-ce-o-la tried, to find. 
 He could never change their mind. 
 And his words did not avail, 
 Nor his pleadings once prevail, 
 And his pleadings to them there 
 Was as to the empty air. 
 
 Os-ce-o-la saw that he 
 Driven to extremity, 
 Must another plan evolve. 
 If he would this problem solve; 
 And save her, who v/as to him 
 More than law or tribal whim. 
 
Thirty-eight 
 
 Pascagoula 
 
 So resolv'd he, there and then 
 To destroy both of these men. 
 
 Pas-ca-gou-la coming too 
 
 From her madness, scarcely knew 
 
 Even Os-ce-o-la who f 
 
 Loved her with devotion true. | 
 
 Some things she appear'd to know, | 
 
 Then her mind would quickly go, | 
 
 And she'd lapse into a dream, , 
 
 And just for a moment seem ! 
 
 To be living in delight j 
 
 In the realm of Raven Night. ] 
 
 For she'd sing "I'll happy be ij 
 
 With my Chief north of the sea." | 
 
 Then she'd laugh and then she'd cry, j 
 
 Then her soul would heave a sigh, { 
 
 That spoke words of grief to those | 
 
 Who in pity, felt her woes. i 
 
 Then her mind would wander through ■ 
 
 Gorgeous fields where beauties grew I 
 
 In the sunset's golden glow ' 
 
 In a land she did not know, '] 
 
 In that mystic sweet somewhere | 
 
 Quite unlike this world of care. ! 
 
 One eve as the twilight's shade I 
 
 Mellow'd in the nearby glade, , 
 And the twinkling evening star 
 
 Shed his rays of light afar, ; 
 
 Pas-ca-gou-la seemed to be - 
 
 Pas-ca-gou-la mentally. \ 
 
 Os-ce-o-la did await I 
 
 Until night, threw wide her gate, ; 
 
 Then he softly stole around, I 
 
 Sat beside her on the ground; 1 
 
 Looked into those sparkling eyes, ; 
 
 Brilliant as the starry skies. ' 
 
 Told her of his ardent love I 
 
 Brooding o'er her as a dove i 
 
 Brooding o'er his nesting mate | 
 
 Through the morn and evening late; j 
 Told her how his anxious heart, 
 
 From her love would ne'er depart; i 
 
 Whisper'd in her list'ning ear ^ 
 V/ords, that lovers love to hear; 
 
 Promising her life to save, \ 
 
 As a ransome from the grave, ; 
 
Pascagoula 
 
 Thirty-line 
 
 If She'd be his faithful wife 
 Through the evening of his life. 
 Ail of which she answer'd, "She 
 Would be his enternally." 
 
 He was happy as could be, 
 
 Fiil'd with trustful ecstacy. 
 
 He would neither eat nor sleep, 
 
 Neither could he mourn nor weep, 
 
 And he felt his body fill 
 
 With a strange but tender thrill. 
 
 And he seem'd to constant be. 
 
 Floating on some mystic sea, 
 
 Where fantastic ships with sails 
 
 Caught the impulse of love's gales; 
 
 And a life unfolded fair 
 
 To his inner vision there; 
 
 And he saw his future years, 
 
 Fiil'd with hopes, and lacking fears. 
 
 He was just in love they say, 
 As a man gets now-a-day; 
 Yet the love for her he lov'd 
 'Gainst his brother plotting mov'd. 
 And his heart devis'd a plan 
 To destroy his fellow man. 
 
 Oh! Deceitful, sinning heart. 
 You have play'd a willing part. 
 In the sorrows and the strife 
 Of this struggling, moral life; 
 You are plotting, plotting still, 
 Always have been, always will. 
 To attain some selfish end. 
 And beneath your feet to send 
 All who dare to raise their voice 
 'Gainst the object of your choice; 
 You are vile, deceptive, evil. 
 Home of sin, and crime, and devil. 
 
 Next day when the balmy breeze 
 Sway'd the boughs of leafy trees, 
 Os-ce-o-la thought to go 
 Hunting on the plains below; 
 And O-le-pa said that he 
 Would go, too, if he'd agree. 
 And then, Os-ce-o-la thought 
 "This the very chance I've sought.' 
 
F^ty Pascagoula 
 
 So he answer'd "Yes," and they 
 Forthwith started t'ward the bay; 
 Where they hunted many hours 
 Through the cane and leafy bowers. 
 But no game they found to kill. 
 And for pass time climb'd a hill, 
 Lying down to take a rest 
 On the billet's topmost crest. 
 As they lay in restful mood, 
 'Neath a log of rotting wood, 
 Lying near a cany brake; 
 Os-ce-o-la spied a snake, 
 But he never spoke a word 
 'Bout it that 0-le-pa heard. 
 
 Os-ce-o-la long had talk'd 
 With 0-le-pa as they walk'd, 
 And he saw he ne'er would give 
 Pas-ca-gou-la leave to live, 
 And his heart grew very sad, 
 And his brain waxed raving mad, 
 When 0-le-pa said that: "He 
 With O-le-ka did agree, 
 Pas-ca-gou-la sure must die 
 Ere the moon full'd in the sky." 
 
 Os-ce-o-la feign'd asleep 
 On the billet slightly steep. 
 And 0-le-pa drowsy grew 
 As he'd nothing else to do, 
 Drowsey grew, and, soon was he 
 Sound asleep as he could be, 
 Snoring loud and lying still 
 On the summit of the hill. 
 
 Os-ce-o-la saw that he 
 Was asleeping peacefully: 
 So he rose and strode around, 
 Went until the snake he found, 
 Took a stick and broke its back 
 With one well directed whack. 
 It was wounded, but, could bite, 
 And was eager for a fight; 
 So he took it on a stick 
 From among the grasses thick, 
 And he laid it on the ground, 
 By O-le-pa sleeping sound. 
 As it could not crawl away. 
 It beside the sleeper lay. 
 
Pascagoula 
 
 Forty-one 
 
 Then, he call'd "O-le-pa, 'wake, 
 And our journey let us make!" 
 And 0-le-pa did awake, 
 But in rousing press'd the snake 
 Which in anger hit him twice, — 
 (Some say once, and others thrice). 
 
 Os-ce-o-la saw the snake 
 Bite 0-le-pa, half awake. 
 And he took an arrow new, 
 Shot and cut the snake in two, 
 Then he kick'd it far away 
 From where young 0-le-pa lay; 
 And he dress'd 0-le-pa's wound 
 With a remedy he found, 
 Did for him all that he could, 
 'Way out in the distant wood; 
 
 All was done in human power 
 For 0-le-pa from that hour. 
 Who was swelling, and who knew 
 His remaining hours were few. 
 As his limb the larger grew. 
 All the less 0-le-pa knew, 
 And he seem'd at times to be 
 Roaming in a strange country. 
 Where the flowers blossom'd fair. 
 And their perfume, rich and rare. 
 Floated on the balmy air; 
 Lulling every sense of care. 
 Welcoming with sweet repose, 
 He who to that country goes. 
 
 He was constant growing weak. 
 And with effort did he speak. 
 As the poison from its work 
 Did not for a moment shirk; 
 And he sens'd the end was near 
 But he harbored not a fear; 
 For he felt that he would go 
 To a land of mellow glow, 
 Where the sun did ever shine, 
 Where the deer was fat and fine, 
 And more tame than ever found 
 In the cane-brakes growing 'round. 
 And where goose, and duck, and bear. 
 Lived in plenty everywhere. 
 
 Os-ce-o-la stood by, too. 
 Doing all that he could do 
 
Forty-two 
 
 Pascagoula 
 
 To relieve his suff'ring friend 
 As he fast approach'd the end; 
 And he linger'd through the night. 
 But his soul, with dawning light, 
 Wing'd its flight out on the sea 
 Of unknown immensity. 
 
 It was sad, the way he died 
 In the flower of his pride; 
 Died, and never thought nor knew 
 Of his death, the reason true; 
 Died believing to the end 
 Os-ce-o-la was his friend. 
 
 Ignorance thou blanket kind. 
 To the unenlighten'd mind, 
 What a magnitude of crime 
 Thou, dost hide from time to time, 
 And, since life on earth began. 
 Thou hast been the foe of man. 
 
 When the sun had risen high. 
 
 In the cloudless, tropic sky. 
 
 All went out into the wood, 
 
 Gather'd logs as best they could, 
 
 Which they pil'd in one great pile, 
 
 From the camp perhaps a mile; 
 
 Then they fetch'd, so it is said. 
 
 Young 0-le-pa's body dead. 
 
 And they laid it on the wood 
 
 They had piled as best they could. 
 
 And, as sun set in the west 
 
 Signal'd of aproaching rest, 
 
 Os-ce-o-la, young and glad. 
 
 With O-si-ka old and sad. 
 
 Took a flame, and going nigher 
 
 Set the funeral pile afire; 
 
 And for hours through the night, 
 
 By the fire's lurid light 
 
 Squaws and warbucks sat around, 
 
 Undisturb'd by sight or sound, 
 
 Until near the break of day, 
 
 When the fire died away. 
 
 Then they homeward went their way 
 
 Through the dawning soft and grey. 
 
 Pas-ca-gou-la seem'd to grow 
 Slowly better and to know 
 
Pascagoula 
 
 Forty-three 
 
 That the chances were, that she, 
 Was to pay the penalty 
 With a forfeit of her life 
 Or be Os-ce-o-la's wife; 
 And she thought she scarcely knew 
 Which she would the rather do, 
 "But the love of life," thought she, 
 "Forces me his squaw to be." 
 
 On about the first of June, 
 In the waxing of the moon. 
 Young O-le-ka said that he 
 Would go hunting near the sea. 
 Where a herd of wildest hogs 
 Fed at leisure in the bogs; 
 And he ask'd in manner slow 
 Os-ce-o-la, too, to go; 
 For he lov'd him as a shot 
 Who could hit a vital spot; 
 And whose arrows, night or day 
 Seldom ever went astray. 
 
 Os-ce-o-la feign'd that he 
 Did not care to hunting be. 
 But he took his strongest bow, 
 And decided he would go; 
 For good luck to him had brought. 
 Just the very chance he'd sought. 
 With O-le-ka young to talk 
 As they took their rambling walk. 
 Of his willingness to give 
 Pas-ca-gou-la leave to live. 
 And together as they walk'd 
 They on general topics talk'd, 
 Spoke of Pas-ca-gou-la soon 
 To be tried near fulling moon, 
 When, Alas! O-le-ka said, 
 "He and young 0-le-pa dead. 
 Had agreed, that they would stand 
 For the custom of their land. 
 And in pow-wow both demand 
 That her life blood stain the sand; 
 And as young 0-le-pa died 
 Ere the case was to be tried. 
 He would stand to what he said 
 To his friend, O-le-pa dead." 
 
 Os-ce-o-la knew that there 
 Was no use in fighting fair; 
 
Forty-four 
 
 Pascagoula 
 
 For if young 0-le-ka stood 
 By what he had said he would. 
 He could never hope to save 
 Pas-ca-gou-la from her grave. 
 
 Young 0-le-ka saw the frown. 
 Weighing hard his features down; 
 So he smil'd a little smile 
 To himself, once in a while, 
 And unthoughtedly he said, 
 "In a moon she will be dead, 
 
 Os-ce-o-la heard what he 
 Had spoken, unthoughtedly; 
 But he never spoke a word 
 In regard to what he'd heard. 
 
 After while they reach'd the bogs, 
 Where they often hunted hogs; 
 And they saw 'neath underbrush 
 On the highlands, 'cross the slush, 
 Quite a herd, who, sleeping lay, 
 Neath the shade of scented Bay. 
 Os-ce-o-la took his stand 
 On a little knoll of land, 
 For he aim'd to kill his hog 
 As they made off to the bog, 
 After young 0-le-ka's shot 
 Had arous'd them from the spot 
 Where they long had sleeping lay 
 In the burning heat of day. 
 
 Young 0-le-ka without fear 
 Slipp'd upon them very near; 
 Took and arrow sharp and new 
 From his quiver holding few; 
 Plac'd it in his cedar bow 
 Twang'd the string and let it go. 
 Aiming at the time to kill 
 Just the hog to suit his will. 
 But the rising ocean breeze, 
 Swaying all the shrubs and trees. 
 Blew his arrow from its way 
 Just a little, so they say, 
 And it struck a full grown boar, 
 Feeding near the boggy shore; 
 Struck him light, but fill'd his heart 
 With a devil's firey dart; 
 And he madly sniff'd the air. 
 Bristled up his bristling hair; 
 
Pascagoula 
 
 Forty- five 
 
 And without the least delay 
 Charg'd O-le-ka for a fray, 
 An<l was right upon him there 
 Ere he hardly was aware; 
 And he scar'd O-le-ka so 
 That he somehow dropp'd his bow 
 And was forc'd to turn and flee, 
 Or in pieces rended be; 
 So no time lost he in flight. 
 And in fleeing fled to right 
 T'ward where Os-ce-o-la stood 
 Near a tree of limby wood, 
 With an arrow and his bow 
 Ready for the coming foe. 
 
 It was Os-ce-o-la's fun 
 To see young O-le-ka run, 
 And he only wish'd the hog 
 Would but rend him in the bog; 
 For to see him dead and burn'd 
 Oft' his jealous heart had yearn'd. 
 
 Os-ce-ola thought to shoot 
 
 At the swift approaching brute, 
 
 And to sink an arrow rough 
 
 Deep into its forehead tough; 
 
 But when he pull'd on the string 
 
 (Though a quite uncommon thing), 
 
 Quick it snapp'd itself in twain 
 
 And could not be tied again; 
 
 So the only thing to do 
 
 V/as to run the marsh grass through 
 
 'Till he reach'd a live oak tree 
 
 Not so distant from the sea. 
 
 And to quickly climb this tree, 
 
 That he might in safety be; 
 
 For O-le-ka and the hogs 
 
 Ran straight for him from the bogs. 
 
 And would reach the place he stood 
 
 In the shortest time they could, 
 
 And with rawhide bow-string broke 
 
 Fighting hogs was not a joke. 
 
 So he ran straight for the tree, 
 Reach'd and climb'd it hurriedly, 
 And in moments just a few 
 Young O-le-ka reach'd it too. 
 
Forty-si > 
 
 Pascagoula 
 
 With the hogs behind his heels 
 Mad, and grunting angry squeals. 
 And he climb'd the live oak tree, 
 That he might in saftey be; 
 And the hogs all gather'd round, 
 Fiercely rooting up the ground, 
 As if they but meant to see 
 If they could uproot the tree; 
 And they root'd many hours, 
 To the limit of their powers. 
 
 As the hogs went not away, 
 
 Young 0-le-ka thought to play. 
 
 And to tantalize the boar 
 
 Which had chas'd him through and o'er 
 
 Bogs, and sea-marsh until he 
 
 Reach'd that lonely live oak tree, 
 
 So he cut a rawhide string 
 
 (It was just a little thing,) 
 
 And he dropp'd it till he found 
 
 It was touching on the ground; 
 
 Then he swiftly trail'd it 'round, 
 
 'Mongst the hogs upon the ground. 
 
 When the boar saw it there, 
 Swinging wildly in the air. 
 He made at it with a rush. 
 As if to its vitals crush. 
 And such speed attained he 
 That he ran against the tree. 
 And 0-le-ka laugh'd to see 
 His collision with the tree. 
 
 As the hogs more tired grew, 
 O-le-ka more daring grew, 
 And to satisfy a whim 
 Once lean'd low upon his limb. 
 And he gave the boar a whack 
 With a stick across his back. 
 Os-ce-o-la all the while 
 Sat above him, with a smile 
 Forc'd upon his features strong. 
 Through the weary moments long. 
 In his brain he held a thought. 
 Held a viscious murderous thought. 
 But if it would count for aught. 
 It with danger great was fraught; 
 
Pascagoula 
 
 Forty-seven 
 
 If he fail'd, it cost his life, 
 If he won, he sav'd the life 
 Of the one, he long'd as wife 
 In this vale toil and strife. 
 Then said he, "0-le-ka you 
 Dare the hogs, and I will too; 
 And whatever you will do, 
 I will do, and better, too; 
 I can reach down and not fail 
 To catch boar by the tail." 
 
 Young O-le-ka thought that he 
 Must in jesting humor be; 
 So he slowly scratch'd his head 
 While these daring words he said; 
 "I will watch and see you fail 
 To catch boar by the tail.." 
 
 Os-ce-o-Ia could not take 
 
 Such a dare while wide awake. 
 
 So he reach'd his hand down low 
 
 S'wung it frantic to and fro, 
 
 And, when boar as his habit. 
 
 Made an eager dash to grab it, 
 
 Os-ce-o-la without fail 
 
 Let him pass and caught his tail. 
 
 Young O-le-ka with a frown 
 Reach'd as far as he could down. 
 Waving fast his hand to dare 
 The old boar waiting there, 
 Which came darting at his hand 
 In a frantic manner grand. 
 
 Quick almost as lightning's flash, 
 Os-ce-o-la, wild and rash, 
 Leap'd upon O-le-ka there 
 Hanging midway in the air. 
 And he struck him with such vim 
 As to knock him from the limb. 
 And he fell to earth below, 
 Fell'd by his aggressive foe; 
 But he grab'd himself, the limb, 
 And held to it with a vim. 
 And intently watch'd the boar 
 Gnash O-le-ka o'er and o'er, 
 Until life had ceas'd to be 
 In his body 'neath the tree; 
 
Forty-eight 
 
 Pascagoula 
 
 And he long view'd with delight 
 This repulsive, sickning sight, 
 Of the boar, man and mud, 
 Crimson dyed with human blood. 
 
 Young 0-le-ka did not live 
 Long enough to battle give; 
 For just as he struck the ground 
 All the mad hogs ranting 'round 
 Gnash'd and tore him as the gales 
 Tear to shreds unfurled sails. 
 Then they laid them one by one, 
 Down to rest, as setting sun 
 Kiss'd the tree tops of the west 
 With a benediction blest. 
 
 Soon the twiligth's cooling shade 
 Freshen'd hill and plain and glade; 
 While the dewdrop's moist'ning kiss 
 Met the flowers, not amiss; 
 And the wild hogs lying round, 
 Seem'd to all be sleeping sound; 
 But the pris'ner in the tree 
 Long'd a longing to be free, 
 Long'd to eager run and tell 
 Pas-ca-gou-la, all was well; 
 For the warbucks both were dead 
 Who demanded and who said, 
 "Pas-ca-gou-la young must die 
 Ere the moon fulls in the sky," 
 Dead and none would ever know 
 It was he, who plan'd it so. 
 
 As the hogs went not away, 
 
 In the tree he had to stay, 
 
 And as darkness came along 
 
 With the nightbird's doleful song. 
 
 Heavy grew his eye lids there. 
 
 In the balmy, vernal air; 
 
 And with scanty comfort he 
 
 Soon was sleeping in the tree, 
 
 And was dreaming all the time, 
 
 Of a maiden quite sublime. 
 
 Whom he some day hop'd to wed. 
 
 As his rivals both were dead; 
 
 And he dream'd on through the night, 
 
 Until morning dawning light. 
 
 Woke him, to but find the hogs 
 
 Had retreated to the bogs, 
 
Pascagoula 
 
 Forty-ni«e 
 
 And as soon as lie could see 
 
 Os-ce-o-la left his tree, 
 
 And went to 0-le-ka who, 
 
 Cold in death, and wet with dew. 
 
 Lay asleep — like on the ground. 
 
 With an ugly gaping wound 
 
 In his temple, from which blood 
 
 Oozing trickled to the mud. 
 
 Then, he took his lonely tramp 
 
 Through the swamps back to the camp, 
 
 Told how young 0-le-ka died 
 
 In the yester-evening tide, 
 
 And with warbucks and O-let-chim 
 
 (Rough made bier, on which to fetch him), 
 
 Went and fetch'd 0-le-ka dead 
 
 To his home, so it is said, 
 
 And they burn'd him as the sun 
 
 Set upon his day's work done, 
 
 As they had done o'er and o'er 
 
 To the warbucks gone before. 
 
 Pas-ca-gou-la better grew. 
 
 With each day, and more knew. 
 
 And she seemed to realize 
 
 All the past to the surprise 
 
 Of the tribe, who thought that, "she 
 
 Would for years an insane be." 
 
 Os-ce-o-la's anxious heart 
 That had lov'd her from the start. 
 Grew more loving as the days 
 Opened up the means and ways 
 Of convincing her that he 
 Lov'd her as devotedly, 
 As a loving human heart 
 Could but love its better part. 
 
 Now the fulling of the moon. 
 
 Rounded out in rosy June, 
 
 And O-si-ka, Chief, must call; 
 
 Not a few, but one and all. 
 
 To a pow-wow of the tribe 
 
 That each one his thoughts describe 
 
 And say, if, they will'd to give 
 
 Pas-ca-gou-la leave to live, 
 
 And if not, demand that she 
 
 Pay in full the penalty. 
 
F«tv Pascagoula 
 
 So the pow-wow met at noon 
 On the day near fulling moon, 
 And they voted one and all, 
 Squaws and warbucks young and tali. 
 And they slay'd a fatted deer 
 They had captur'd grazing near, 
 And they sipp'd the heated blood 
 As it flow'd in pulsing flood. 
 Saying "We consent to give 
 Pas-ca-gou-la leave to live;" 
 And, she did, they say, declare 
 To her father, and all there 
 She would never, never wed 
 Raven Night, though they be dead. 
 Whereupon 0-si-ka old. 
 Did her slender form enfold, 
 Plac'd his hands upon the hair 
 Of his only daughter fair, 
 Saying, "Child, I know that you 
 Stand for all that's good and true, 
 And for treaty take your word 
 By the tribe so plainly heard, 
 I revoke the law, and give 
 You my child the right to live. 
 
 Os-ce-o-la's heart was gay 
 
 As the birds of balmy May; 
 
 Though his task was hard and slow. 
 
 He had conquer'd every foe; 
 
 And he more than conquer'r stood 
 
 Just an Indian of the wood. 
 
 Pas-ca-gou-la rapid grew 
 
 Better, as the hours flew; 
 
 And began again to be 
 
 Quite herself entirely. 
 
 And whenever chance was found, 
 
 Os-ce-o-la came around 
 
 With his love to eager talk. 
 
 Or if chance to take a walk; 
 
 Thus the Spring, and summer, all 
 
 Pass'd away into the Fall. 
 
 It was now late in the Fall, 
 And the robin's well known call 
 Could be heard on every hand. 
 In that balmy, Southern land; 
 And the time drew on a pace 
 For the wedding to take place. 
 
Pascagoula 
 
 Fifty-one 
 
 Os-ce-0-la's heart was glad, 
 Pas-ca-gou-la's heart was sad, 
 For some how she felt a feeling 
 Of despondency was stealing 
 O'er her from the early morn. 
 Until twilight shades were born. 
 And approaching sorrows fast 
 Their impingings o'er her cast, 
 And a dark foreboding fear 
 Constantly was ling'ring near. 
 
 Just before his wedding day 
 Os-ce-o-la went away 
 To the north, in search of game. 
 But at nightfall, homeward came, 
 Empty handed, all afright 
 As the band of Raven Night 
 Were not many miles away 
 With the closing of the day, 
 And were scouting in the way 
 Of their camp, near by the bay. 
 And would reach it ere the sun 
 Rose upon a day begun. 
 
 Chief 0-si-ka, being told 
 Of this move of Raven bold. 
 Rightly guess'd that Autumn night 
 He had come to bitter fight. 
 Or to claim his daughter's hand 
 As the Chief — squaw of his land; 
 And he said, "My daughter, dear. 
 Will you promise to me here 
 You will never, never wed 
 Raven Night, though I be dead"? 
 And she promis'd there that night. 
 In the moonbeam's mellow light. 
 That her promise she would keep. 
 Though it led to lifeless sleep. 
 
 Chief 0-si-ka, knew to fight 
 
 With the band of Raven Night 
 
 Was to lose, but what could he 
 
 Do in his extremity! 
 
 To the south, he could not flee, 
 
 As before him lay the sea. 
 
 To the north, and left, and right 
 
 Were the men of Raven Night. 
 
 "So", said he with quickn'd breath, 
 
 "We well fight unto our death; 
 
Fiffy-two 
 
 Pascagoula 
 
 And if we should chance to lose, 
 We have but one thing to choose; 
 That is drowning in the sea 
 As we'll never captur'd be!" 
 
 As the daybreak faint was born 
 On that chill December morn, 
 Chief 0-si-ka took his men 
 And retreated once again 
 To the south a little way 
 To get nearer to the bay; 
 And the squaws and children they 
 Put between them and the bay, 
 While the warbucks hid around. 
 Lying flat upon the ground. 
 
 With the rising of the sun 
 Came the Indians, one by one, 
 Anxious to surprise the camp 
 Of 0-si-ka's tribe on tramp; 
 And when they came to the spot. 
 Where the camp was, but was not; 
 They grew anxious all the more 
 To push southward to the shore. 
 Where they knew the tribe must be. 
 As they could not cross the sea. 
 And they hurried one and all 
 Through the reed-cane large and tall, 
 'Till at length they came in sight 
 Of the tribe they long'd to fight. 
 Then they shot an arrow o'er 
 Chief 0-sa-ki's wigwam door, 
 
 Which was answer'd by a shot 
 From the bow of 0-le-tot, 
 And which pass'd just to the right 
 Of their leader. Raven Night, 
 Piercing deep into the brain 
 Of a warbuck, "Silverstain," 
 Who sank quickly to the ground, 
 Dying of a mortal wound. 
 
 When Chief Raven saw the shot 
 From the bow of O-le-tot 
 Strike and sink deep in the brain 
 Of his comrade, "Silverstain," 
 All his soul sank in despair. 
 And he leap'd high in the air. 
 And he warhoop'd loud and clear. 
 That his warriors far and near 
 
Pascagoula 
 
 Fifty-three 
 
 Might come to him with a rush 
 From their hiding in tlie brush; 
 And they came with mad'ning rush 
 From among the underbrush. 
 And he pointed to the head 
 Of his comrade lying dead; 
 And led off without delay 
 T'ward the enemy at bay. 
 
 On they came in silent way 
 Where O-si-ka's warriors lay 
 Well conceal'd among the brush 
 Waiting their attacking rush, 
 And as Raven came up nigh 
 Arrows thick began to fly, 
 And his men began to fall 
 'Mid the grasses thick and tall, 
 And they fought this way for hours, 
 To the utmost of their pow'rs. 
 And the band of Raven Night 
 Suffer'd greatly in the fight. 
 And he knew it would not do. 
 To fight thus, — expos'd to view- 
 While O-si-ka's warring men 
 Sliot, and hid themselves again. 
 
 It was now the time to choose, 
 Would he win or would he lose? 
 He would have to charge the band, 
 If he drove them from their stand, 
 Or if he would capture there 
 Pas-ca-gou-la young and fair. 
 
 He had men, yes, men to spare. 
 In a battle royal there; 
 So he signal'd all his men 
 That they follow him again, 
 And he made a charging rush 
 Through the vines, and underbrush, 
 Follow'd by his warbucks who 
 Eager long'd his will to do. 
 
 As they came on near the bay 
 Where O-si-ka's fighters lay. 
 Quick they rose and fought them there, 
 Fought them foul or fought them fair; 
 And the band of Raven Night 
 Suffer'd mostly in this fight; 
 
Fifty-four 
 
 Pascagoula 
 
 And he said "Twill never do 
 
 To stand full expos'd to view. 
 
 And allow those hidden men 
 
 To shoot us and hide again. 
 
 We must either win or lose, 
 
 And to win, I hereby choose!" 
 
 "And we too will follow you," 
 
 Cri'd his warbucks tri'd and true. 
 
 So they rush'd a headlong rush 
 
 Through the tangled vines and brush, 
 
 'Till they came unto a place 
 
 They could view each others face; 
 
 Here they fought, and fought, and fought, 
 
 And their arrows havoc wrought, 
 
 'Till there lay upon the ground 
 
 Many men with mortal wound. 
 
 Os-ce-la did command 
 The maneuvers of his band, 
 And they fiercely fought 'till they 
 Were compell'd to give away, 
 By the rush of Raven Night 
 And his mighty men of fight. 
 Then they fell back toward the bay 
 Where the squaws and children lay, 
 There they made a final stand. 
 To defend their native land. 
 But his band was very small. 
 Just a dozen all in all. 
 
 When 0-si-ka v/eak and old 
 
 Saw the dash of Raven Bold, 
 
 He had not a word to say. 
 
 But he strode down near the bay, 
 
 And his daughter young and fair 
 
 Stood beside him, waiting there. 
 
 In her hand she held her bow. 
 
 And the arrow, which you know 
 
 Os-ce-o-la shot to kill 
 
 Raven Night as was his will; 
 
 While the squaws and children, all 
 
 That were large and that were small, 
 
 Congregated on a ledge 
 
 Near the briny water's edge. 
 
 And they eager watch'd to see 
 
 How the next attack would be. 
 
 Raven and his fighting men 
 Rush'd upon them once again. 
 
Pascagoula 
 
 And surrounded all the band 
 Fighting for their home and land ; 
 Then they threw their bows away 
 That their tomahawks might play 
 In a short and bloody fray, 
 On that most eventful day. 
 
 When Chief Raven saw that he 
 Fac'd again his enemy 
 Who had tri'd to shoot a dart 
 Midway through his pulsing heart, 
 All the hatred of his soul 
 Through his brain did surging roll. 
 And he rush'd upon him there, 
 Fighting with insane despair; 
 And they fought as never men 
 Fought before, or will again. 
 With their tomahawks of stone 
 Tied to handles made of bone. 
 How they pounded each on each 
 As they came within their reach! 
 How they fought like demons there, 
 In the cool Autumnal air! 
 Each one trying on his foe 
 To effect the fatal blow. 
 
 Fifty-fire 
 
 Fighting they were growing weak! 
 Fighting still they dare not speak. 
 As each needed all his strength 
 To prolong their duel's length; 
 And the band of Raven Night 
 Clos'd around to watch the fight; 
 For they'd nothing else to do 
 But to watch the duel through. 
 As they'd done their deadly work; 
 And, not one life did they shirk, 
 'Till their foes lay thick around. 
 Dead and scalp'd upon the ground. 
 
 Os-ce-o-la saw that he 
 Soon would overcomed be, 
 So he wav'd his left hand high 
 As a signal he must die. 
 
 Just then by a well aim'd blow 
 Raven fell'd his bitter foe 
 With a thud upon the ground. 
 Bleeding from a mortal wound; 
 
Fifcy-six 
 
 Pascagoula 
 
 And lie scalp'd him lying there, 
 Strung his scalp of raven hair 
 On his rawhide string, and say, 
 It made seven for the day 
 
 When 0-si-ka saw the men 
 Of Chief Raven halt, and then 
 Start their running t'ward the bay, 
 Well he knew he'd lost the day, 
 And with scalp cut from the head 
 Of his loyal leader dead. 
 Only this remain'd to say, 
 "Leap, my children, in the bay!" 
 And the tribe that roam'd its shore, 
 Would be seen on earth no more. 
 So he spoke the fatal word 
 And as soon as it was heard, 
 Without having aught to say, 
 Leap'd they all into the bay. 
 Children young, and maidens fair 
 Sank beneath the waters there; 
 Aged squaws, and mothers true 
 Sank beneath the waters, blue. 
 Only two, — there was no more — 
 Stood remaining on the shore. 
 They were Pas-ca-gou-la bold 
 And 0-si-ka very old; 
 And they ready stood to leap 
 Out into the briny deep 
 Should the band of Raven Night 
 Come to capture or to fight. 
 
 Raven border'd on despair 
 
 As he saw them standing there; 
 
 He had seen the others leap 
 
 Out into the silent deep, 
 
 And he fear'd they'd do the same, 
 
 If he nearer to them came; 
 
 So he stood in silence there, 
 
 Meditating on the fair. 
 
 Pas-ca-gou-la held her bow 
 And the famous rough ar-row 
 Os-ce-o-la pick'd to kill 
 Raven Night beneath the hill. 
 And she stood, a picture, there, 
 In the cool autumnal air 
 With her raven tresses rare 
 Kiss'd by fading sunbeams fair. 
 
Pascagoula 
 
 Fifty-seven 
 
 Holding to her father's arm. 
 Well protecting him from harm. 
 
 Raven had his men retreat 
 To the rear a thousand feet, 
 Held his hands in pleading way, 
 As if just one word to say. 
 And went slowly to the bay 
 On that most eventful day. 
 
 As he closer came their way. 
 They retreated in the bay. 
 And he saw she soon would be 
 Lost to him eternally; 
 So he ran down from the ledge 
 To the water's laping edge. 
 And he motion'd them to come; 
 And go with him to his home; 
 But she faintly smil'd a smile 
 Sinking deeper, all the while. 
 
 As she slowly sank from view, 
 He then more determin'd grew. 
 And he plung'd into the bay. 
 Wading t'ward them quite away, 
 Anxious to but quickly save, 
 Pas-ca-gou-la from her grave. 
 And to offer them a home, 
 Or in safety let him roam, 
 Hoping when 0-si-ka died 
 S'he'd consent to be his bride; 
 Hard he tri'd to reach her hand 
 That he lead her back to land; 
 But her sharp and flinty dart, 
 Pointed straightway at his heart. 
 Held him motionless, they say, 
 'Mid the waters of the bay. 
 
 As they further backward drew, 
 
 — More and more they sank from view- 
 
 'Till at length the waters rose 
 
 To the region of their nose. 
 
 Still she held her bow and dart, 
 
 Well directed t'ward his heart. 
 
 But he pleaded with her there 
 
 To relinquish every care. 
 
 And with Chief 0-si-ka old 
 
 Come from out the waters cold. 
 
Fifty-eight 
 
 Pascagoula 
 
 And go with him to his home 
 With his tribe to ever. roam; 
 But 0-si-ka firmly said:. 
 "I would rather far be dead, 
 And be in the hunting ground, 
 With my tribe all gather'd 'round; 
 Than live with an enemy, 
 Trusting to his treachery." 
 This, was all he ever said, 
 And with haughty shake of head, 
 Backward still he further drew, 
 Where the waters deeper grew. 
 
 Raven, with a broken heart, 
 Disregarded flinty dart 
 And one mighty effort gave 
 That his idol he might save, 
 And her face of beauty rare 
 Met his face of grim despair. 
 And her smile of loveliness 
 Paralized his deep distress, 
 And for just a moment he 
 Liv'd in love's own ecstacy. 
 
 And he summon'd in that hour 
 All the remnant of his pow'r, 
 With one hand he clutch'd the bow 
 And refus'd to let it go; 
 With the other grasp'd her hair 
 Floating on the waters there, 
 And against her pleading will 
 Drew her from those waters chiil 
 But ere he could realize. 
 Within reach, before his eyes, 
 Sank 0-si-ka to his grave 
 'Neath the billow and the wave, 
 And a little gurgling sound 
 Audible a few feet round; 
 Was all Raven ever heard 
 For 0-si-ka spoke no word. 
 
 With 0-si-ka now no more, 
 Waded they back to the shore 
 Where they sat throughout the night; 
 And the dawning of the light 
 Found them sitting, sitting still, 
 In the penetrating chill 
 Of the damp December fog 
 Seated on an oaken log. 
 
BURIED AFFECTIONS 
 
 So, they dug a shallow grave 
 Like unto an ancient cave, 
 And in this O-si-ka old, 
 Sleeps with Os-ce-o-la bold. 
 
Pascagoula 
 
 Fifty-nine 
 
 Neither would she eat nor drink, 
 Neither did she seem to think, 
 Of herself, but only he 
 Buried in the silent sea. 
 
 And she sat thus through the day 
 In a half distracted way. 
 And another night sat she 
 Dreamingly beside the sea. 
 But the breaking of the morn 
 Rous'd her from the dream forlorn. 
 And at sunrise of the day 
 StroU'd she quite a pace away 
 Where the men and women lay. 
 Who were drown'd within the bay 
 And were cast by ebbing tide 
 On the beach's sandy side. 
 There 0-si-ka, chief was found 
 With the others strewn around; 
 And the band of Raven Night 
 With a keen sense of delight 
 Pick'd the body from the sand 
 Bearing it to higher land, 
 Where they dug a shallow grave 
 Like unto an ancient cave, 
 And in this 0-si-ka old 
 Sleeps with Os-ce-o-la bold. 
 
 Raven Night the coming day 
 Took his bride to be, away; 
 Starting for his native land 
 Through the reed-cane and the sand. 
 
 Pas-ca-gou-la in a way 
 Grew more reconcil'd each day. 
 As the old love of her heart 
 Soon began to play its part, 
 And she felt each glad to-morrow 
 More of joy and less of sorrow. 
 
 After hours of ceaseless roam 
 Raven Night arriv'd at home 
 With his band and bride to be. 
 From the land near by the sea, 
 And when Min-e-o-la knew 
 All her fears had proven true 
 Heart and soul both wilted there, 
 And she fled in grim despair 
 
Sixty 
 
 Pascagoula 
 
 And she perish'd, I am told, 
 From the winter's blighting cold. 
 
 Pas-ca-gou-la happy grew 
 
 As their nuptials closer drew, 
 
 For their wedding to take place 
 
 When the moon-man show'd his face. 
 
 In the fulling of the moon 
 
 Due in just a season soon, 
 
 For their wedding to take place 
 
 When the moon-man show'd his face. 
 
 Happy liv'd they day by day 
 
 In their own accustom'd way, 
 
 Raven hunting far and wide, 
 
 Pas-ca-gou-la by his side. 
 
 And she always took the bow 
 
 And the same sharp flint ar-row 
 
 Os-ce-o-la shot to kill 
 
 Raven Night as was his will. 
 
 And one eve as twilight shades 
 
 Mellow'd softer in the glades, 
 
 After long and weary tramp 
 
 As they longing sought their camp; 
 
 When she was suspecting least, 
 
 Pas-ca-gou-la saw a beast 
 
 Spring from limb and leap through air 
 
 T'ward Chief Raven unaware. 
 
 And she deftly shot a dart 
 
 Deep into its beastly heart. 
 
 Whence it fell to earth and died 
 
 Slain by Raven's watchful bride. 
 
 Thus they liv'd throughout the years, 
 
 Undisturb'd by foe or fears. 
 
 And their days swift went to be 
 
 Number'd with eternity. 
 
 'Till at length old age drew nigh 
 
 And they met him, — with a sigh. 
 
 In the tribe of Raven Night 
 Dwelt a warbuck "Eaglesight" 
 Who was longing then for pow'r, 
 (As the foolish do this hour) 
 And he long'd to rule instead 
 When Chief Raven should be dead. 
 So he stole the flinty dart 
 That was shot at Raven's heart. 
 And he poison'd it one day 
 In the flowery month of May. 
 
Pascagoula 
 
 Sixty-one 
 
 So when Raven without harm 
 Slightly cut his aged arm, 
 To commemorate the way 
 Pas-ca-gou-la sav'd the day 
 Risking all she had to give 
 That a wounded pris'ner live, 
 He imbib'd the poison rife 
 That dispatch'd him from this life. 
 
 Pas-ca-gou-la left alone, 
 
 Of her life became forlorn 
 
 And she pined away and died. 
 
 In life's autumn evening tide. 
 
 And they laid her when she died. 
 
 In the valley by the side 
 
 Of Chief Raven, where, you may 
 
 Find their graves, perhaps, — some day. 
 
 Sometimes in the waning fall 
 
 When the robins plaintive call. 
 
 After Indian summer days 
 
 Have pass'd with their dreamy haze, 
 
 And the full autumnal moon 
 
 Beams as in the month of June; 
 
 On the anniversary 
 
 Of their battle by the sea. 
 
 When the bay begins to moan 
 
 And the sighing trees to groan, 
 
 And the sea gulls circle high 
 
 In the angry lowering sky. 
 
 Which is but the first alarm 
 
 Of a brooding wintry storm. 
 
 Indian spirits, so I'm told. 
 
 Come from Ocean caverns old; 
 
 Where they are a time confin'd 
 
 For their suicide unkind. 
 
 And they gather on the sand 
 
 Of their once beloved land. 
 
 And, if you clairvoyant be, 
 
 And you watch attentively 
 
 You will see 0-si-ka old. 
 
 Facing Raven strong and bold. 
 
 Then this scene without delay 
 
 Comes up in the tragic play. 
 
Sixty-two 
 
 Pascagoula 
 
 And you'll see chief Raven Night 
 Clasping long his heart's delight, 
 Pas-ca-gou-la young and fair, 
 Showing not a trace of care. 
 
 Now the last scene you will see 
 As the winds howl angrily, 
 And the distant lightning's flash 
 Antedates the thunder's crash 
 Is 0-si-ka, very old, 
 Thinly clad against the cold. 
 Seeking aimless on the beach 
 Some object beyond his reach, 
 And in meditative mood 
 Prone o'er sorrow long to brood. 
 Then, you'll see him silent stand 
 Just a moment on the sand, 
 Then resume his ambling pace 
 With a stoic upturn'd face, 
 Saying to himself alone 
 In a spectral monotone, 
 "I will never cease to dread 
 Until Raven Night is dead," 
 Then departure quickly takes 
 As the storm in fury breaks. 
 On the shore and on the bay, 
 In a most tempesteous way — 
 
 I am told that people say, 
 Oft while bathing in the bay. 
 They sweet music plainly hear 
 Such as soothes the tired ear. 
 And they think this singing noise 
 Is made by the girls and boys 
 Of the tribe who leap'd and died, 
 In the bay at flooding tide. 
 
DEC 16 19!0