[AI]
'Twas the morn of departure. DuLuth
stood alone by the roar of the _Ha-ha_;
Tall and fair in the strength of his youth
stood the blue-eyed and fair-bearded Frenchman.
A rustle of robes on the grass broke his dream
as he mused by the waters,
And, turning, he looked on the face of Winona,
wild-rose of the prairies,
Half hid in her dark, flowing hair,
like the round, golden moon in the pine-tops.
Admiring he gazed--she was fair
as his own blooming Flore in her orchards,
With her golden locks loose on the air,
like the gleam of the sun through the olives,
Far away on the vine-covered shore,
in the sun-favored land of his fathers.
"Lists the chief to the cataract's roar
for the mournful lament of the Spirit?"[AJ]
Said Winona,--"The wail of the sprite
for her babe and its father unfaithful,
Is heard in the midst of the night,
when the moon wanders dim in the heavens."
"Wild-Rose of the Prairies," he said,
"DuLuth listens not to the _Ha-ha_,
For the wail of the ghost of the dead
for her babe and its father unfaithful;
But he lists to a voice in his heart
that is heard by the ear of no other,
And to-day will the White Chief depart;
he returns to the land of the sunrise.
Pages:
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218