Fair was the chief as the morning-star;
His eyes were mild and his words were low,
But his heart was stouter than lance or bow;
And her young heart flew to her love afar
O'er his trail long covered with drifted snow.
She heard a warrior's stealthy tread,
And the tall Wakawa appeared, and said:
"Is Wiwaste afraid of the spirit dread
That fires the sky in the fatal north?[26]
Behold the mysterious lights. Come forth:
Some evil threatens, some danger nears,
For the skies are pierced by the burning spears."
The warriors rally beneath the moon;
They shoot their shafts at the evil spirit.
The spirit is slain and the flame is gone,
But his blood lies red on the snow-fields near it;
And again from the dead will the spirit rise,
And flash his spears in the northern skies.
Then the chief and the queenly Wiwaste stood
Alone in the moon-lit solitude,
And she was silent and he was grave.
"And fears not my daughter the evil spirit?
The strongest warriors and bravest fear it.
The burning spears are an evil omen;
They threaten the wrath of a wicked woman,
Or a treacherous foe; but my warriors brave,
When danger nears, or the foe appears,
Are a cloud of arrows--a grove of spears.
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