me on tip-toe tripped
The stately minuet of the passing years,
Until the horologe of Time struck _One_.
Black Thunder growled and from his throne of gloom
Fire-flashed the night with hissing bolt, and lo,
Heart-split, the giant of a thousand years
Uttered one voice and like a Titan fell,
Crashing one hammer-clang, and passed away.

THE LEGEND OF THE FALLS[CG]

[CG] _An-pe-tu Sa-pa_--Clouded Day--was the name of the Dakota mother
who committed suicide, as related in this legend, by plunging over the
Falls of St. Anthony. Schoolcraft calls her "_Ampata Sapa_." _Ampata_ is
not Dakota. There are several versions of this legend, all agreeing in
the main points.

[Read at the Celebration of the Old Settlers of Hennepin County, at the
Academy of Music, Minneapolis, July 4, 1879.]

[_The Numerals refer to Notes in Appendix._]

On the Spirit-Island [CH] sitting under midnight's misty moon,
Lo I see the spirits flitting o'er the waters one by one!
Slumber wraps the silent city, and the droning mills are dumb;
One lone whippowil's shrill ditty calls her mate that ne'er will come.
Sadly moans the mighty river, foaming down the fettered falls,
Where of old he thundered ever o'er abrupt and lofty walls.
Great _Unktehee_--god of waters--lifts no more his mighty head;
Fled he with the timid otters?--lies he in the cavern dead?
Hark!--the waters hush their sighing and the whippowil her call,
Through the moon-lit mists are flying dusky shadows silent all.
Lo from out the waters foaming--from the cavern deep and dread--
Through the glamour and the gloaming comes a spirit of the dead.
Sad she seems; her tresses raven on her tawny shoulders rest;
Sorrow on her brow is graven, in her arms a babe is pressed.
Hark!--she chants the solemn story--sings the legend sad and old,
And the river wrapt in glory listens while the tale is told.
Would you hear the legend olden hearken while I tell the tale--
Shorn, alas, of many a golden, weird Dakota chant and wail.

[CH] The small island of rock a few rods below the Falls, was called by
the Dakotas _Wanagee We-ta_--Spirit-Island. They say the spirit of
_Anpetu Sapa_ sits upon that island at night and pours forth her sorrow
in song. They also say that from time out of mind, war-eagles nested on
that island, until the advent of white men frightened them away. This
seems to be true. See _Carver's Travels_ (London, 1778), p. 71.

THE LEGEND

Tall was young Wanata, stronger tha