a glorious feast was ordered,
To receive the forest guest;
While the sweet reunion lighted,
Joy in every beating breast.

Broad the feasting board was covered,
The high starry group to bind;
When the star chief rose to utter
His congratulations kind.

"List, my guests--the Spirit wills it,
Earth to earth, and sky to sky;
Choose ye each a claw or pinion,
Such as ye may wish to try."

Wondrous change! by arts' transformance,
At the typic heavenly feast;
Each who chose a wing a bird was,
Each who chose a claw, a beast.

Off they ran on plains of silver,
Squirrel, rabbit, elk, or deer;
White Hawk chose a wing, descending
Down again to forests here,

Where the Waupees are still noted
For their high essays of wing;
And their noble deeds of bravery,
In the forest, mount, and ring.

SONG OP THE WOLF-BROTHER.

Nesia, my elder brother,
Bones have been my forest meal,
Shared with wolves the long, long winter,
And their nature now I feel.

Nesia, my elder brother,
Now my fate is near its close;
Soon my state shall cease to press me,
Soon shall cease my day of woes.

Left by friends I loved the dearest,
All who knew and loved me most;
Woes the darkest and severest,
Bide me on this barren coast.

Pity! ah, that manly feeling,
Fled from hearts where once it grew,
Now in wolfish forms revealing,
Glows more warmly than in you.

Stony hearts! that saw me languish,
Deaf to all a father said,
Deaf to all a mother's anguish,
All a brother's feelings fled.

Ah, ye wolves, in all your ranging,
I have found you kind and true;
More than man--and now I'm changing,
And will soon be one of you.

Lodge of kindred once respected,
Now my heart abhors your plan;
Hated, shunned, disowned, neglected,
Wolves are truer far than man.

And like them, I'll be a rover,
With an honesty of bite
That feigns not to be a lover,
When the heart o'erflows with spite.

Go, ye traitors, to my lodge-fire;
Go, ye serpents, swift to flee,
War with kinds that have your natures,
I am disenthrall'd and free.

ABBINOCHI.

A MOTHER'S CHANT TO HER SICK INFANT.

Abbinochi,[123] baby dear,
Leave me not--ah, leave me not;
I have nursed with love sincere,
Nursed thee in my forest cot--
Tied thee in thy cradle trim
Kind adjusting every limb;
With the fairest beads and bands
Deck'd thy cradle with my hands,
And with sweetest corn panaed
From my little kettle f