A mountain bear to his enemies,
To his friends like the red fawn's dappled form;
In peace, like the breeze from the summer seas----
In war, like the roar of the mountain storm.
His fame in the voice of the winds went forth
From his hunting grounds in the happy North,
And far as the shores of the _Great Mede_ [36]
The nations spoke of the brave Chaske.
Dark was the visage of grim Red Cloud,
Fierce were the eyes of the warrior proud,
When the chief to his lodge led the brave _Hohe_,
And Wiwaste smiled on the tall Chaske.
Away he strode with a sullen frown,
And alone in his _teepee_ he sat him down.
From the gladsome greeting of braves he stole,
And wrapped himself in his gloomy soul.
But the eagle eyes of the Harpstina
The clouded face of the warrior saw.
Softly she spoke to the sullen brave:
"Mah-pi-ya Duta--his face is sad;
And why is the warrior so glum and grave?
For the fair Wiwaste is gay and glad;
She will sit in the _teepee_ the live-long day,
And laugh with her lover--the brave _Hohe_
Does the tall Red Cloud for the false one sigh?
There are fairer maidens than she, and proud
Were their hearts to be loved by the brave Red Cloud.
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