Thy mother looks from her lodge above--
Her fair face shines in the sky afar,
And the eyes of thy sisters are bright with love,
As they peep from the _tee_ of the mother-star.
To her happy lodge in the Spirit land
She beckons Wiwaste with shining hand.'
"My Father--my Father, her words were true;
And the death of Wiwaste will rest on you.
You have pledged me as wife to the tall Red Cloud;
You will take the gifts of the warrior proud;
But I, Wakawa,--I answer--never!
I will stain your knife in my heart's red blood,
I will plunge and sink in the sullen river
Ere I will be wife to the dark Red Cloud!"
"Wiwaste," he said, and his voice was low,
"Let it be as you will, for Wakawa's tongue
Has spoken no promise;--his lips are slow,
And the love of a father is deep and strong.
Be happy, Micunksee;[29] the flames are gone--
They flash no more in the northern sky.
See the smile on the face of the watching moon;
No more will the fatal, red arrows fly;
For the singing shafts of my warriors sped
To the bad spirit's bosom and laid him dead,
And his blood on the snow of the North lies red.
Go--sleep in the robe that you won to-day,
And dream of your hunter--the brave Chaske.
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