Part 12

Mihihna, Mihihna, my heart is stone; The light is gone from my longing eyes; The wounded loon in the lake alone Her death-song sings to the moon and dies.

Mihihna, Mihihna, the path is long. The burden is heavy and hard to bear; I sink,--I die, and my dying song Is a song of joy to the false one's ear.

Mihihna, Mihihna, my young heart flew Far away with my brave to the bison-chase; To the battle it went with my warrior true, And never returned till I saw his face.

Mihihna, Mihihna, my brave was glad When he came from the chase of the roebuck fleet; Sweet were the words that my hunter said, As his trophies he laid at Anpétu's feet.

Mihihna, Mihihna, the boy I bore-- When the robin sang and my brave was true, I can bear to look on his face no more. For he looks, Mihihna, so much like you.

Mihihna, Mihihna, the Scarlet Leaf Has robbed my boy of his father's love; He sleeps in my arms--he will find no grief In the star-lit lodge in the land above.

Mihihna, Mihihna, my heart is stone, The light is gone from my longing eyes; The wounded loon in the lake alone, Her death-song sings to the moon and dies.

The Dakotas called the Jesuit priests "Black Robes" from the color of their vestments.

Wee tah Wah-stay--Beautiful Island,--the Dakota name for Nicollet Island just above the Falls.

Drapa, a Norse funeral wail in which the virtues of the deceased are recounted.

Mee heen-yah--My husband.

Swiftly down the turbid torrent, as she sung her song she flew; Like a swan upon the current, dancing rode the light canoe. Hunters hurry in the gloaming, all in vain Wanâta calls; Singing through the surges foaming, lo she plunges o'er the Falls.

Long they search the sullen river--searched for leagues along the shore, Bark or babe or mother never saw the sad Dakotas more; But at night or misty morning oft the hunters heard her song, Oft the maidens heard her warning in their mellow mother-tongue.

On the bluffs they sat enchanted till the blush of beamy dawn; Spirit Isle they say, is haunted, and they call the spot "Wakân." Many summers on the highland, in the full-moon's golden glow-- In the woods on Fairy Island, walked a snow white fawn and doe Spirits of the babe and mother sadly seeking evermore, For a father's love another turned with evil charm and power.

Pronounced Walk on--Sacred, inhabited by a Spirit.

Fairy Island--Wita Waste--Nicollet Island.

Sometimes still when moonbeams shimmer through the maples on the lawn, In the gloaming and the glimmer walk the silent doe and fawn; And on Spirit-Isle or near it, under midnight's misty moon, Oft is seen the mother's spirit, oft is heard her mournful tune.

THE SEAGULL.

THE LEGEND OF THE PICTURED ROCKS OF LAKE SUPERIOR. OJIBWAY.

IN THE MEASURE OF HIAWATHA

(The numerals 1 2 etc., refer to Notes to Sea-Gull in Appendix.)

On the shore of Gitchee Gumee-- Deep, mysterious, mighty waters--Where the mânitoes--the spirits-- Ride the storms and speak in thunder, In the days of Neme-Shómis, In the days that are forgotten, Dwelt a tall and tawny hunter-- Gitchee Péz-ze-ú--the panther, Son of Waub-Ojeeg, the warrior, Famous Waub-Ojeeg, the warrior. Strong was he and fleet as roebuck, Brave was he and very stealthy; On the deer crept like a panther; Grappled with Makwá, the monster, Grappled with the bear and conquered; Took his black claws for a necklet, Took his black hide for a blanket.

When the Panther wed the Sea-Gull, Young was he and very gladsome; Fair was she and full of laughter; Like the robin in the spring time, Sang from sunrise till the sunset; For she loved the handsome hunter. Deep as Gitchee Gumee's waters Was her love--as broad and boundless; And the wedded twain were happy-- Happy as the mated robins. When their first born saw the sunlight Joyful was the heart of Panther, Proud and joyful was the mother. All the days were full of sunshine; All the nights were full of star light. Nightly from the land of spirits On them smiled the starry faces,-- Faces of their friends departed. Little moccasins she made him, Feathered cap and belt of wampum; From the hide of fawn a blanket, Fringed with feathers soft as sable; Singing at her pleasant labor, By her side the tekenâgun And the little hunter in it. Oft the Panther smiled and fondled, Smiled upon the babe and mother, Frolicked with the boy and fondled. Tall he grew and like his father, And they called the boy the Raven-- Called him Kâk-kâh-gè--the Raven. Happy hunter was the Panther. From the woods he brought the pheasant, Brought the red deer and the rabbit, Brought the trout from Gitchee Gumee--

Brought the mallard from the marshes,-- Royal feast for boy and mother: Brought the hides of fox and beaver, Brought the skins of mink and otter, Lured the loon and took his blanket, Took his blanket for the Raven.

Winter swiftly followed winter,

And again the tekenâgun Held a babe--a tawny daughter, Held a dark-eyed, dimpled daughter; And they called her Waub-omeé-meé,-- Thus they named her--the White-Pigeon. But as winter followed winter Cold and sullen grew the Panther; Sat and smoked his pipe in silence; When he spoke he spoke in anger; In the forest often tarried Many days, and homeward turning, Brought no game unto his wigwam: Only brought his empty quiver, Brought his dark and sullen visage.

Sad at heart and very lonely Sat the Sea-Gull in the wigwam; Sat and swung the tekenâgun, Sat and sang to Waub-omeé-meé; Thus she sang to Waub-omeé-meé, Thus the lullaby she chanted:

Wâ-wa, wâ-wa, wâ-we-yeà; Kah-wéen, nee-zhéka kè-diaus-âi, Ke-gâh nau-wâi, ne-mé-go s'wéen, Ne-bâun, ne-bâun, ne-dâun-is-âis, Wâ-wa, wâ-wa, wâ-we-yeà;