me life,
To take it from me. Thou lily heart,
Thou art my own, my other self:
Thy god declares it unto thee,
And mine to me."

"And over all
Is the Great Spirit. Farewell."

"Thou wilt not go?"

"Farewell."

"Farewell."

Sad fate, by human standard judged,
The Indian maiden brought upon
Herself. Given to eat with dogs,
Clothed in rags, disgraced, driven from
Her father's door, the power of love
Sustained her. Magic Power, Great
Architect, Superb Chemist Love!
The heart that entertains thee
Grows lofty in spirit gentleness,
E'en tho' thou deignst to make it but
Thy workshop. So Janishkisgan
Knew thee. Fearing only to prove
Unworthy of her august guest,
She walked in the midst of scorn,
Contempt, contumely, sneers and stern
Displeasure, with that forbearance
And kindly dignity, which re-won
Her friends, despite themselves; so that
At last they gave her pitying peace,
And listened with their heart-strings tuned
To life's better part, while she sang
Her farewell song, each eve beneath
The tree.

After a time the plague
Broke out and lamentations rose
On every hand. Old women made
Their teas and plied their healing arts;
The Great Medicine Men implored
Gezha Manitou's aid, and all
The vibrant air was resonant
With invoking incantations.--
Death marched on. Then Janishkisgan
Bethought her of her lover's cure;
Gathered the balsam root and mixed
Therefrom the potent draught, as he
Had taught her. Great Medicine
It was, that brought the glow of health
Into the faded, hollow cheeks,
And all the people blessed the maid;
Called her, "Mahnusatia," which means
The balm that heals. Surrounded by
The dread disease, she came and went
Unscathed, as if by unseen hands
Protected. Where her gentle tones
Were heard or where her light step fell,
It was as if an angel passed.--
Wan faces smiled, and hearts felt hope,
And trembling lips found voice to cry:
"Mahnusatia! Mahnusatia!"

Thus in love was she renamed.
Reinstated and reintrenched
Deeper then ever in hearts which
Had once renounced her, still she lived
As one apart. The seasons came
And passed, and as they did, the tribe
Changed camp, from place to place, with each
Recurring Autumn to return
To Wey-do-dosh-she-ma-de-nog;
But "Mahnusatia" never left
The silent village. There she kept
Her vigil, night by night, under
The old oak tree. Her form became
Wasted; her eyes lustrous; her limbs
Grew to tremble, but