🧚 The Feast of the Virgins., part 3 · page 2

In the land of the heathen he died, meekly following the voice of his Master, One mourner alone by his side --Ta-té-psin's compassionate daughter.48 She wailed the dead father with tears, and his bones by her kindred she buried.49 Then winter followed winter.50 The years sprinkled frost on the head of her father; And three weary winters she dreamed of the fearless and fair-bearded Frenchmen; In her sweet sleep their swift paddles gleamed on the breast of the broad Mississippi, And the eyes of the brave strangers beamed on the maid in the midst of her slumber.51

She lacked not admirers; the light of the lover oft burned in her teepee-- At her couch in the midst of the night, --but she never extinguished the flambeau.52 The son of Chief Wazi-kuté --a fearless and eagle plumed warrior-- Long sighed for Winona, and he --was the pride of the band of Isántees.53 Three times, in the night, at her bed, had the brave held the torch of the lover, [75]And thrice had she covered her head and rejected the handsome Tamdóka.54 [a]55

[a] Tah-mdo-kah--literally the buck deer.56

'Twas Summer.57 The merry voiced birds trilled and warbled in woodland and meadow; And abroad on the prairies the herds cropped the grass in the land of the lilies,-- And sweet was the odor of rose wide-wafted from hillside and heather; In the leaf-shaded lap of repose lay the bright, blue eyed babes of the summer; And low was the murmur of brooks and low was the laugh of the Ha-Ha; [76] And asleep in the eddies and nooks lay the broods of magá [60] and the mallard. '58 Twas the moon of Wasúnpa.59 [71] The band lay at rest in the tees at Ka-thá-ga, And abroad o'er the beautiful land walked the spirits of Peace and of Plenty-- Twin sisters, with bountiful hand, wide scatt'ring wild rice and the lilies.60 An-pé-tu-wee [70] walked in the west --to his lodge in the midst of the mountains, And the war eagle flew to her nest in the oak on the Isle of the Spirit.61 [a] And now at the end of the day, by the shore of the Beautiful Island, [b] A score of fair maidens and gay made joy in the midst of the waters.62 Half-robed in their dark, flowing hair, and limbed like the fair Aphroditè, They played in the waters, and there they dived and they swam like the beavers,-- Loud-laughing like loons on the lake when the moon is a round shield of silver, And the songs of the whippowils wake on the shore in the midst of the maples.63

[a] The Dakotas say that for many years in olden times a war-eagle made her nest in an oak tree on Spirit island--Wanagi-wita just below the Falls till frightened away by the advent of white men.64

[b] The Dakotas called Nicollet Island "Wi-ta Waste"--the Beautiful Island.65

But hark!--on the river a song, --strange voices commingled in chorus; On the current a boat swept along with DuLuth and his hardy companions; To the stroke of their paddles they sung, and this the refrain that they chanted:66

"Dans mon chemin j'ai recontré Deux cavaliers bien monteés.67 Lon, lon, laridon daine, Lon, lon, laridon dai."68

"Deux cavaliers bien monteés; L'un a cheval, et l'autre a pied.69 Lon, lon, laridon daine, Lon, lon, laridon dai."70 [a]71

Like the red, dappled deer in the glade, alarmed by the footsteps of hunters, Discovered, disordered, dismayed, the nude nymphs fled forth from the waters, And scampered away to the shade, and peered from the screen of the lindens.72

[a] A part of one of the favorite songs of the French _voyageurs_.73

A bold and and adventuresome man was DuLuth, and a dauntless in danger, And straight to Kathága he ran, and boldly advanced to the warriors, Now gathering, a cloud, on the strand, and gazing amazed on the strangers; And straightway he offered his hand unto Wázi-kuté, the Itáncan.74 To the Lodge of the Stranger were led DuLuth and his hardy companions; Robes of beaver and bison were spread, and the Peace pipe [23] was smoked with the Frenchman.75

There was dancing and feasting at night, and joy at the presents he lavished.76 All the maidens were wild with delight with the flaming red robes and the ribbons, With the beads and the trinkets untold, and the fair, bearded face of the giver; And glad were they all to behold the friends from the Land of the Sunrise.77 But one stood apart from the rest --the queenly and peerless Winona, Intently regarding the guest --hardly heeding the robes and the ribbons, Whom the White Chief beholding admired, and straightway he spread on her shoulders A lily-red robe and attired, with necklet and ribbons, the maiden.78 The red lilies bloomed in her face, and her glad eyes gave thanks to the giver, And forth from her teepee apace she brought him the robe and the missal Of the father--poor Renè Menard; and related the tale of the "Black Robe."79 She spoke of the sacred regard he inspired in the hearts of Dakotas; That she buried his bones with her kin, in the mound by the Cave of the Council; That she treasured and wrapt in the skin of the red-deer his robe and his prayer-book-- "Till his brothers should come from the East --from the land of the far Hochelága, To smoke with the braves at the feast, on the shores of the Loud-laughing Waters.80 [76] For the "Black Robe" spake much of his youth and his friends in the Land of the Sunrise; It was then as a dream, now in truth, I behold them, and not in a vision."81 But more spake her blushes, I ween, and her eyes full of language unspoken, As she turned with the grace of a queen, and carried her gifts to the teepee.82

Far away from his beautiful France --from his home in the city of Lyons, A noble youth full of romance, with a Norman heart big with adventure, In the new world a wanderer, by chance, DuLuth sought the wild Huron forests.83 But afar by the vale of the Rhone, the winding and musical river, And the vine-covered hills of the Saône, the heart of the wanderer lingered,-- 'Mid the vineyards and mulberry trees, and the fair fields of corn and of clover That rippled and waved in the breeze, while the honey-bees hummed in the blossoms For there, where the impetuous Rhone, leaping down from the Switzerland mountains, And the silver-lipped soft flowing Saône, meeting, kiss and commingle together, Down-winding by vineyards and leas, by the orchards of fig trees and olives, To the island-gemmed, sapphire-blue seas of the glorious Greeks and the Romans; Aye, there, on the vine covered shore, 'mid the mulberry trees and the olives, Dwelt his blue-eyed and beautiful Flore, with her hair like a wheat field at harvest, All rippled and tossed by the breeze, and her cheeks like the glow of the morning, Far away o'er the emerald seas, ere the sun lifts his brow from the billows, Or the red-clover fields when the bees, singing sip the sweet cups of the blossoms.84 Wherever he wandered --alone in the heart of the wild Huron forests, Or cruising the rivers unknown to the land of the Crees or Dakotas-- His heart lingered still on the Rhone, 'mid the mulberry-trees and the vineyards, Fast-fettered and bound by the zone that girdled the robes of his darling.85