I have walked over the old portage from
the foot of the Dalles to the St. Louis above--trod by the feet of
half-breeds and _voyageurs_ for more than two centuries, and by the
Indians for perhaps a thousand years.
The swift west-wind sang in the sails,
and on flew the boat like a sea-gull,
By the green, templed hills and the dales,
and the dark, rugged rocks of the North Shore;
For the course of the brave Frenchman lay
to his fort at the _Gah-mah-na-tek-wahk,_[83]
By the shore of the grand Thunder Bay,
where the gray rocks loom up into mountains;
Where the Stone Giant sleeps on the Cape,
and the god of the storms makes the thunder,[83]
And the _Makinak_[83] lifts his huge shape
from the breast of the blue-rolling waters.
And thence to the south-westward led his course
to the Holy Ghost Mission,[84]
Where the Black Robes, the brave shepherds,
fed their wild sheep on the isle _Wauga-ba-me_,[94]
In the enchanting _Cha-quam-e-gon_ Bay
defended by all the Apostles,[BD]
And thence, by the Ke-we-naw,
lay his course to the Mission Sainte Marie,[BE]
Now the waves clap their myriad hands,
and streams the white hair of the surges;
DuLuth at the steady helm stands,
and he hums as he bounds o'er the billows:
O sweet is the carol of bird,
And sweet is the murmur of streams,
But sweeter the voice that I heard--
In the night--in the midst of my dreams.
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