Who worship the dead corpse of old king Custom, With a man's palm, and making even the truth "Deem me not fond; but in my warmer youth, And so I cherish them, for they were lots, Now will I draw them, since a man's right hand, From out a thousand blanks. What men call luck The fealty life pays its rightful kings. The helm is shaking now, and I will stay So they two turned together; one to die, And far within old Darkness' hostile lines 1843. SONG. : O, MOONLIGHT deep and tender, O, elm-leaves dark and dewy, O, river, dim with distance, O, stars, ye saw our meeting, O, happy night, deliver Her kisses back to me, Or keep them all, and give her A CHIPPEWA LEGEND.* ἀλγεινὰ μέν μοι καὶ λέγειν ἐστὶν τάδε ἄλγος δὲ σιγᾷν. Eschylus, Prom. Vinct. 197. THE old Chief, feeling now well-nigh his end, Called his two eldest children to his side, And gave them, in few words, his parting charge! My son and daughter, me ye see no more; 66 The happy hunting-grounds await me, green With change of spring and summer through the year: But, for remembrance, after I am gone, Be kind to little Sheemah for my sake: Alone, beside a lake, their wigwam stood, * For the leading incidents in this tale, I am indebted to the very valuable "Algic Researches" of Henry R. Schoolcraft, Esq. 66 Why should I dwell here all alone, shut out From the free, natural joys that fit my age ? Lo, I am tall and strong, well skilled to hunt, Patient of toil and hunger, and not yet Have seen the danger which I dared not look Full in the face; what hinders me to be A mighty Brave and Chief among my kin ?” So, taking up his arrows and his bow, As if to hunt, he journeyed swiftly on, Until he gained the wigwams of his tribe, Where, choosing out a bride, he soon forgot, In all the fret and bustle of new life, The little Sheemah and his father's charge. Now when the sister found her brother gone, And that, for many days, he came not back, She wept for Sheemah more than for herself; For Love bides longest in a woman's heart, And flutters many times before he flies, And then doth perch so nearly, that a word May lure him back, as swift and glad as light; And Duty lingers even when Love is gone Oft looking out in hope of his return; And, after Duty hath been driven forth, Then Selfishness creeps in the last of all, Warming her lean hands at the lonely hearth, And crouching o'er the embers, to shut out Whatever paltry warmth and light are left, With avaricious greed, from all beside. So, for long months, the sister hunted wide, And cared for little Sheemah tenderly; But, daily more and more, the loneliness Grew wearisome, and to herself she sighed, "Am I not fair? at least the glassy pool, That hath no cause to flatter, tells me so; But, O, how flat and meaningless the tale, Unless it tremble on a lover's tongue! |