hat northern wild, no spot
So fit for ambush was as this
Unbeaten, shrub-grown path of rock
To which the Chippeways' impulse
Led them; and none so ill-secure
From ambuscading foe as this
Same barren bowlder, upon whose
O'erhanging height, the Sioux reclined.

His prelude, played on flageolet,
In clear and clarion tones, broke through
The still of dawn and fell on ears
Of foes, who crept upon him, the while
He softly sang:

"Oh, my Dove's Eye,
Thou dear one, hearest thou not
My voice? Thou lingerest far from me.
I am the Water Medicine. Rocks
Flow living streams if I but call.
Thou sharest my secrets, wee one;
Thou, too, hast quaffed of Immortal
Waters. Why linger far from me?
When the fever was upon me,
Then wast thou near me, thou Sunbeam.
Now, I am strong. To-morrow will
I journey toward the setting sun.
But I will come back again for thee.
My people shall be thine, my own.
Hearken to the voice of my song.

[Illustration]

My love is like the shining sun
Upon the pure snow of the mount--
It would blush upon thy cheek, but
It would not destroy thee. Hear me,
Gentle one; fear me not. Thou didst
Not love the Chief Guteba. Thy
Lips have confessed it to me, and
My lance drank his heart dry. Now, thou
Sleepest upon thy mother's tomb."

As like the lightning of the storm
Forensic message on the walls
Of heaven writes, to fill the earth
With pause of tragic dread, so did
Guteba's name, on alien tongue
For one brief moment holden stay
The stealthy steps that stole about
The Sioux and closed escaping path
Around him. And as thunder lends
Unto the tempest's roar a voice
More awful because of that but
Momentary respite, so with
The next succeeding breath, the air
Was curdled with the Chippeway cry
Of vengeance. Before the Sioux could
Change within his grasp the place
Of joyous flute for battle-ax
He was surrounded by them and made
Their royal captive.

In thongs bound
Down and tortured, Janishkisgan
Next beheld him. But love, like theirs,
Which hath preserved itself through test
In purity, knows not despair.
Nor can it hush itself to ease
If it can find the chance to act
In the beloved one's behalf.
So while the maid, well-honored guard
Of sacred fires, passed freely round,
From friend, to friend, with greetings kind,
In measure full returned, her thoughts
Were busy with the night.

When all
Was still beneath the stars, she left
He