Chapter 5
Hark!--the shouts and the braying of drums, and the Babel of tongues and confusion! From his teepee the tall chieftain comes, and Duluth brings a prize for the runners-- A keen hunting-knife from the Seine, horn-handled and mounted with silver. The runners are ranged on the plain, and the Chief waves a flag as a signal, And away like the gray wolves they fly --like the wolves on the trail of the red deer; O'er the hills and the prairie they vie, and strain their strong limbs to the utmost, While high on the hills hangs a cloud of warriors and maidens and mothers, To behold the swift runners, and loud are the cheers and the shouts of the warriors.
Now swift from the lake they return, o'er the emerald hills and the heather; Like grey-hounds they pant and they yearn, and the leader of all is Tamdóka. At his heels flies Hu-pá-hu, [a] the fleet --the pride of the band of Kaóza, A warrior with eagle-winged feet, but his prize is the bow and the quiver. Tamdóka first reaches the post, and his are the knife and the blanket, By the mighty acclaim of the host and award of the chief and the judges. Then proud was the tall warrior's stride, and haughty his look and demeanor; He boasted aloud in his pride, and he scoffed at the rest of the runners. "Behold me, for I am a man! [b] my feet are as swift as the West wind. With the coons and the beavers I ran; but where is the elk or the cabri? [80] Come!--where is the hunter will dare match his feet with the feet of Tamdóka? Let him think of Taté [c] and beware, ere he stake his last robe on the trial." "Ohó! Ho! Hó-héca!" [d] they jeered, for they liked not the boast of the boaster; But to match him no warrior appeared, for his feet wore the wings of the west-wind.
[a] The wings.
[b] A favorite boast of the Dakota braves.
[c] The wind.
[d] About equivalent to Oho--Aha--fudge.
Then forth from the side of the chief stepped DuLuth and he looked on the boaster; "The words of a warrior are brief, --I will run with the brave," said the Frenchman; "But the feet of Tamdóka are tired; abide till the cool of the sunset." All the hunters and maidens admired, for strong were the limbs of the stranger. "Hiwó! Ho!" [a] they shouted and loud rose the cheers of the multitude mingled; And there in the midst of the crowd stood the glad-eyed and blushing Winona.
[a] Hurra there!
Now afar o'er the plains of the west walked the sun at the end of his journey, And forth came the brave and the guest, at the tap of the drum, for the trial. Like a forest of larches the hordes were gathered to witness the contest; As loud is the drums were their words and they roared like the roar of the Ha-ha. For some for Tamdóka contend, and some for the fair, bearded stranger, And the betting runs high to the end, with the skins of the bison and beaver. A wife of tall Wazi-kuté --the mother of boastful Tamdóka-- Brought her handsomest robe from the tee, with a vaunting and loud proclamation: She would stake her last robe on her son who, she boasted, was fleet as the Cábri [80] And the tall, tawny chieftain looked on, approving the boast of the mother. Then fleet as the feet of a fawn to her lodge ran the dark eyed Winona, She brought and she staked on the lawn, by the side of the robe of the boaster, The lily-red mantle Duluth, with his own hands, had laid on her shoulders. "Tamdóka is swift, but forsooth, the tongue of his mother is swifter," She said, and her face was aflame with the red of the rose and the lily, And loud was the roar of acclaim; but dark was the face of Tamdóka.
They strip for the race and prepare, --DuLuth in his breeches and leggins; And the brown, curling locks of his hair downward droop to his bare, brawny shoulders, And his face wears a smile debonair, as he tightens his red sash around him; But stripped to the moccasins bare, save the belt and the breech-clout of buckskin, Stands the haughty Tamdóka aware that the eyes of the warriors admire him; For his arms are the arms of a bear and his legs are the legs of a panther.
The drum beats,--the chief waves the flag, and away on the course speed the runners, And away leads the brave like a stag, --like a hound on his track flies the Frenchman; And away haste the hunters, once more, to the hills for a view to the lake-side, And the dark-swarming hill-tops, they roar with the storm of loud voices commingled. Far away o'er the prairie they fly, and still in the lead is Tamdóka, But the feet of his rival are nigh, and slowly he gains on the hunter. Now they turn on the post at the lake, --now they run full abreast on the home-stretch; Side by side they contend for the stake, for a long mile or more on the prairie. They strain like a stag and a hound, when the swift river gleams through the thicket, And the horns of the rulers resound, winding shrill through the depths of the forest. But behold!--at full length on the ground falls the fleet-footed Frenchman abruptly. And away with a whoop and a bound, springs the eager, exulting Tamdóka. Long and loud on the hills is the shout of his swarthy admirers and backers; "But the race is not won till it's out," said DuLuth, to himself as he gathered, With a frown on his face, for the foot of the wily Tamdóka had tripped him. Far ahead ran the brave on the route, and turning he boasted exultant. Like spurs to the steed to DuLuth were the jeers and the taunts of the boaster; Indignant was he and red wroth, at the trick of the runner dishonest; And away like a whirlwind he speeds --like a hurricane mad from the mountains; He gains on Tamdóka,--he leads! --and behold, with the spring of a panther, He leaps to the goal and succeeds, 'mid the roar of the mad acclamation.
Then glad as the robin in May was the voice of Winona exulting; And the crest-fallen brave turned away, and lonely he walked by the river; He glowered as he went and the fire of revenge in his bosom was kindled, But he strove to dissemble his ire, and he whistled alone by the Ha-ha.
THE "WAKAN WACEPEE," OR SACRED DANCE. [81]
Lo the lights in the "Teepee Wakán!" 'tis the night of the Wakán-Wacépee. Round and round walks the chief of the clan, as he rattles the sacred Ta-shá-kay; [81] Long and loud on the Chân-che-ga [81] beat the drummers with magical drumsticks, And the notes of the Chô-tánka [81] greet, like the murmur of winds on the waters. By the friction of white-cedar wood for the feast was a Virgin-fire [20] kindled. They that enter the firm brotherhood first must fast and be cleansed by E-neé-pee; [81] And from foot-sole to crown of the head must they paint with the favorite colors; For Unktéhee likes bands of blood-red, with the stripings of blue intermingled. In the hollow earth, dark and profound, Unktéhee and fiery Wakín-yan Long fought and the terrible sound of the battle was louder than thunder; The mountains were heaved and around were scattered the hills and the boulders, And the vast solid plains of the ground rose and fell like the waves of the ocean. But the god of the waters prevailed. Wakín-yan escaped from the cavern, And long on the mountains he wailed, and his hatred endureth forever.
When Unktéhee had finished the earth, and the beasts and the birds and the fishes, And men at his bidding came forth from the heart of the huge hollow mountains [69] A band chose the god from the hordes, and he said "Ye are sons of Unktéhee; Ye are lords of the beasts and the birds, and the fishes that swim in the waters. But hearken ye now to my words, --let them sound in your bosoms forever. Ye shall honor Unktéhee and hate Wakínyan, the Spirit of Thunder, For the power of Unktéhee is great, and he laughs at the darts of Wakínyan. Ye shall honor the Earth and the Sun, --for they are your father and mother. [70] Let your prayer to the Sun be --_Wakán, Até: on-si-má-da oheé-neé_ [a] And remember the Táku Wakán, [73] all pervading in earth and in ether-- Invisible ever to man, but he dwells in the midst of all matter; Yea, he dwells in the heart of the stone --in the hard granite heart of the boulder; Ye shall call him forever Tunkán --grandfather of all the Dakotas. Ye are men that I choose for my own; ye shall be as a strong band of brothers, Now I give you the magical bone and the magical pouch of the spirits. [b] And these are the laws ye shall heed: Ye shall honor the pouch and the giver. Ye shall walk as twin-brothers; in need, one shall forfeit his life for another. Listen not to the voice of the crow. [c] Hold as sacred the wife of a brother. Strike, and fear not the shaft of the foe, for the soul of the brave is immortal. Slay the warrior in battle, but spare the innocent babe and the mother. Remember a promise;--beware, --let the word of a warrior be sacred. When a stranger arrives at the tee --be he friend of the band or a foeman, Give him food; let your bounty be free; lay a robe for the guest by the lodge-fire; Let him go to his kindred in peace, if the peace-pipe he smoke in the teepee; And so shall your children increase, and your lodges shall laugh with abundance. And long shall ye live in the land, and the spirits of earth and the waters Shall come to your aid, at command, with the power of invisible magic. And at last, when you journey afar --o'er the shining "_Wanágee Ta-chán-ku_," [70] You shall walk as a red, shining star, [18] in the land of perpetual summer."
[a] "Sacred Spirit, Father have pity on me always"
[b] Riggs' Tahkoo Wakan, p. 90.
[c] Slander.
All the night in the teepee they sang, and they danced to the mighty Unktéhee, While the loud-braying Chán-che-ga rang and the shrill-piping flute and the rattle, Till Anpétuwee [70] rose in the east --from the couch of the blushing Han-nân-na. And then at the dance and the feast sang the song of Unktéhee in chorus:
"Wa-dú-ta o-hna mi-ká-ge! Wa-dú-ta o-hná mi-ká-ge! Mini-yâta ité wakândè makù, Atè wakán--Tunkánsidán,
Tunkânsidán pejihúta wakán Micâgè--he Wicâgè! Miniyáta ité wakándé makú. Taukánsidán ite, nápè dú-win-ta woo, Wahutôpa wan yúha, nápè dú-win-ta too."
TRANSLATION
In red swan-down he made it for me; In red swan-down he made it for me; He of the water--he of the mysterious face-- Gave it to me; Sacred Father--Grandfather!
Grandfather made me magical medicine That is true! Being of mystery,--grown in the water-- He gave it to me! To the face of our Grandfather stretch out your hand; Holding a quadruped, stretch out your hand!
Till high o'er the hills of the east Anpétuwee walked on his journey, In secret they danced at the feast, and communed with the mighty Unktéhee. Then opened the door of the tee to the eyes of the day and the people, And the sons of Unktéhee, to be, were endowed with the sacred Ozúha [82] By the son of tall Wazí-kuté, Tamdóka, the chief of the Magi. And thus since the birth-day of man --since he sprang from the heart of the mountains, [69] Has the sacred "Wacépee Wakán" by the warlike Dakotas been honored, And the god-favored sons of the clan work their will with the help of the spirits.
'Twas sunrise; the spirits of mist trailed their white robes on dewy savannas, And the flowers raised their heads to be kissed by the first golden beams of the morning. The breeze was abroad with the breath of the rose of the Isles of the Summer, And the humming-bird hummed on the heath from his home in the land of the rain-bow. [a] '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 forest of 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?" [b] 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."
[a] The Dakotas say the humming-bird comes from the "land of the rain-bow."
[b] See Legend of the Falls or Note 28--Appendix.
"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." "Let Winona depart with the chief, --she will kindle the fire in his teepee; For long are the days of her grief, if she stay in the tee of Ta-té-psin," She replied and her cheeks were aflame with the bloom of the wild prairie lilies. "Tanké, [a] is the White Chief to blame?" said DuLuth to the blushing Winona. "The White Chief is blameless," she said, "but the heart of Winona will follow Wherever thy footsteps may lead, O blue-eyed brave Chief of the white men. For her mother sleeps long in the mound, and a step-mother rules in the teepee. And her father, once strong and renowned, is bent with the weight of his winters. No longer he handles the spear, --no longer his swift, humming arrows Overtake the fleet feet of the deer, or the bear of the woods, or the bison; But he bends as he walks, and the wind shakes his white hair and hinders his footsteps; And soon will he leave me behind, without brother or sister or kindred. The doe scents the wolf in the wind, and a wolf walks the path of Winona. Three times have the gifts for the bride [25] to the lodge of Ta-té-psin been carried. But the voice of Winona replied that she liked not the haughty Tamdóka. And thrice were the gifts sent away, but the tongue of the mother protested, And the were wolf [52] still follows his prey, abides but the death of my father."
[a] My Sister.
"I pity Winona," he said, "but my path is a pathway of danger, And long is the trail for the maid to the far-away land of the sunrise; And few are the braves of my band, and the braves of Tamdóka are many; But soon I return to the land, and a cloud of my hunters will follow. When the cold winds of winter return, and toss the white robes of the prairies, The fire of the White Chief will burn in his lodge at the Meeting-of-Waters; [a] And when from the Sunrise again comes the chief of the suns of the Morning, Many moons will his hunters remain in the land of the friendly Dakotas. The son of Chief Wazí-kuté guides the White Chief afar on his journey; Nor long on the Tonka Medé [b] --on the breast of the blue, bounding billows-- Shall the bark of the Frenchman delay, but his pathway shall kindle behind him."
[a] Mendota, properly _Mdó-tè_--meaning the outlet of lake or river into another, commonly applied to the region about Fort Snelling.
[b] Tonka Mede--Great Lake, i.e. Lake Superior. The Dakotas seem to have had no other name for it. They generally referred to it as _Mini-ya-ta--There at the water._
She was pale, and her hurried voice swelled with alarm as she questioned replying "Tamdóka thy guide? --I beheld thy death in his face at the races! He covers his heart with a smile, but revenge never sleeps in his bosom; His tongue--it is soft to beguile; but beware of the pur of the panther! For death, like a shadow, will walk by thy side in the midst of the forest, Or follow thy path like a hawk on the trail of a wounded Mastinca. [a] A son of Unktéhee is he, --the Chief of the crafty magicians; They have plotted thy death; I foresee, and thy trail, it is red in the forest; Beware of Tamdóka,--beware. Slumber not like the grouse of the woodlands, With head under wing, for the glare of the eyes that sleep not are upon thee."
[a] The rabbit. The Dakotas called the Crees "Mastincapi"--Rabbits.
"Winona, fear not," said Duluth, "for I carry the fire of Wakínyan, [a] And strong is the arm of my youth, and stout are the hearts of my warriors; But Winona has spoken the truth, and the heart of the White Chief is thankful. Hide this in thy bosom, dear maid, --'tis the crucified Christ of the white men. [b] Lift thy voice to his spirit in need, and his spirit will hear thee and answer; For often he comes to my aid; he is stronger than all the Dakotas; And the Spirits of evil, afraid, hide away when he looks from the heavens." In her swelling brown bosom she hid the crucified Jesus in silver; "Niwástè," [c] she sadly replied; in her low voice the rising tears trembled; Her dewy eyes turned she aside, and she slowly returned to the teepees. But still on the swift river's strand, admiring the graceful Winona, As she gathered, with brown, dimpled hand, her hair from the wind, stood the Frenchman.
[a] i.e. a fire arm which the Dakotas compare to the roar of the wings of the Thunder-bird and the fiery arrows he shoots.
[b] Duluth was a devout Catholic.
[c] Nee-wahshtay--Thou art good.
To bid the brave White Chief adieu, on the shady shore gathered the warriors; His glad boatmen manned the canoe, and the oars in their hands were impatient. Spake the Chief of Isántees, --"A feast will await the return of my brother In peace rose the sun in the East, in peace in the West he descended. May the feet of my brother be swift, till they bring him again to our teepees; The red pipe he takes as a gift, may he smoke that red pipe many winters. At my lodge-fire his pipe shall be lit, when the White Chief returns to Kathága; On the robes of my tee shall he sit, he shall smoke with the chiefs of my people. The brave love the brave; and his son sends the Chief as a guide for his brother, By the way of the Wákpa Wakán [a] to the Chief at the Lake of the Spirits.
[a] Spirit River, now called _Rum_ River.
As light as the foot-steps of dawn are the feet of the stealthy Tamdóka, And he fears not the Máza Wakán; [a] he is sly as the fox of the forest. When he dances the dance of red war all the hungry wolves howl by the Big Sea, [b] For they scent on the south-wind afar their feast on the bones of Ojibways." Thrice the Chief puffed the red pipe of peace, ere it passed to the lips of the Frenchman. Spake DuLuth,--"May the Great Spirit bless with abundance the Chief and his people; May their sons and their daughters increase, and the fire ever burn in their teepees." Then he waved with a flag his adieu to the Chief and the warriors assembled; And away shot Tamdóka's canoe to the strokes of ten sinewy hunters; And a white path he clove up the blue, bubbling stream of the swift Mississippi; And away on his foaming trail flew, like a Sea-Gull the bark of the Frenchman. Then merrily rose the blithe song of the _voyageurs_ homeward returning, And thus, as they glided along, sang the bugle-voiced boatmen in chorus:
SONG
Home again! home again! bend to the oar! Merry is the life of the gay _voyageur_ He rides on the river with his paddle in his hand, And his boat is his shelter on the water and the land. The clam in his shell and the water turtle too, And the brave boatman's shell is his birch bark canoe. So pull away, boatmen, bend to the oar; Merry is the life of the gay _voyageur_.
Home again! home again! bend to the oar! Merry is the life of the gay _voyageur_. His couch is as downy as a couch can be, For he sleeps on the feathers of the green fir-tree. He dines on the fat of the pemmican-sack, And his _eau de vie_ is the _eau de lac_. So pull away, boatmen; bend to the oar; Merry is the life of the gay _voyageur_.
Home again! home again! bend to the oar! Merry is the life of the gay _voyageur_. The brave, jolly boatman,--he never is afraid When he meets at the portage a red, forest maid, A Huron, or a Cree, or a blooming Chippeway; And he marks his trail with the _bois brulès_. So pull away, boatmen; bend to the oar; Merry is the life of the gay _voyageur_. Home again! home again! bend to the oar! Merry is the life of the gay _voyageur_.
[a] Fire arm--spirit metal.
[b] Lake Superior--at that time the home of the Ojibways. (Chippewas)
In the reeds of the meadow the stag lifts his branchy head stately and listens, And the bobolink, perched on the flag, her ear sidelong bends to the chorus. From the brow of the Beautiful Isle, [a] half hid in the midst of the maples, The sad-faced Winona, the while, watched the boat growing less in the distance. Till away in the bend of the stream, where it turned and was lost in the lindens, She saw the last dip and the gleam of the oars ere they vanished forever. Still afar on the waters the song, like bridal bells distantly chiming, The stout, jolly boatmen prolong, beating time with the stroke of their paddles; And Winona's ear, turned to the breeze, lists the air falling fainter and fainter Till it dies like the murmur of bees when the sun is aslant on the meadows. Blow, breezes,--blow softly and sing in the dark, flowing hair of the maiden; But never again shall you bring the voice that she loves to Winona.
[a] Wista Waste--Nicollet Island.