Ne sageau,I love.Ne sageau-ego,I am loved.TRADITIONARY WAR SONGSOF THEODJIBWA ALGONQUINS.Whoever has heard an Indian war song, and witnessed an Indian war dance, must be satisfied that the occasion wakes up all the fire and energy of the Indian's soul. His flashing eye—his muscular energy, as he begins the dance—his violent gesticulation as he raises his war-cry—the whole frame and expression of the man, demonstrate this. And long before it comes to his turn to utter his stave, or portion of the chant, his mind has been worked up to the most intense point of excitement: his imagination has pictured the enemy—the ambush and the onset—the victory and the bleeding victim, writhing under his prowess: in imagination he has already stamped him under foot, and torn off his reeking scalp: he has seen the eagles hovering in the air, ready to pounce on the dead carcass, as soon as the combatants quit the field.It would require strong and graphic language to give descriptive utterance, in the shape of song, to all he has fancied, and seen and feels on the subject. He, himself, makes no such effort. Physical excitement has absorbed his energies. He is in no mood for calm and connected descriptions of battle scenes. He has no stores of measured rhymes to fall back on. All he can do is to utter brief, and often highly symbolic expressions of courage—of defiance—of indomitable rage. His feet stamp the ground, as if he would shake it to its centre. The inspiring drum and mystic rattle communicate new energy to every step, while they serve, by the observance of the most exact time, to concentrate his energy. His very looks depict the spirit of rage, and his yells, uttered quick, sharp, and cut off by the application of the hand to the mouth, are startling and horrific.Under such circumstances, a few short and broken sentences are enough to keep alive the theme in his mind; and he is not probably conscious of the fact, that, to an unimpassioned and calm listener, with note book in hand, there is not sufficient said to give coherence to the song. And that such a song, indeed, under the best auspices, is a mere wild rhapsody of martial thought, poured out from time to time, in detached sentences, which are, so to say, cemented into lines by a flexible chorus and known tune. The song and the music are all of a piece. Vivid and glowing, and poetic pictures will float in such a train, and often strikethe imagination by their graphic truth and boldness; but the poet must look elsewhere for finished melody, and refined and elaborate composition.The Indian is to be viewed here, as elsewhere, as being in the highest state of hisphysical, not of hismentalphasis. Such glimmerings may however be picked out of these warlike rhapsodies, as denote that he is of a noble and independent tone of thinking. We shall at least enable the reader to judge. The following specimens, which have been derived from actors in the depths of the forest, consist of independent songs, or stanzas, each of which is sung by a different or by the same warrior, while the dance is in progress. The words have been taken down from a young Chippewa warrior of lake Superior, of the name of Che che-gwy-ung. It will be perceived that there is a unity in thetheme, while each warrior exercises the freest scope of expression. This unity I have favoured by throwing out such stanzas as mar it, and afterwards arranging them together.WAR SONG.a.In beginning this song the warrior has turned his eyes to the clouds.O shá wan ong(From the place of the south)Un dos´ e wug,(They come,)repeat.Pe nä´ se wug,(The birds,i. e.the warlike birds.)Ka baim wai wá dung-ig.(Hear the sound of their passing screams on the air.)b.The idea of ravenous birds hovering in the sky, still prevails—Tod ot´ to be(I wish to change myself to be)Pe nä´ se.(A bird.)Ka dow´ we á we yun´.(His swift body—to be like him.)c.The warrior now rises above all thoughts of fear.Ne wä be na,(I cast it away.)Né ow a.(My body.)Ne wá be na,(Repeats.) This is a high symbolical boastNé ow a.of personal bravery.d.He appeals to the Great Spirit for extraordinary power.Na bun á kum ig,(On the front part of the earth,)Tshe bá be wish´ em ug.(First shines [strikes] the light.)In do main´ em ik,(Such power to me,)Mon´ e do,(My God,)Shä wa nem id.(In thy mercy give!)By the boldness of this figure he claims the omnipotent power of the sun to see and discover his enemies.e.He upbraids such of his people as hold back, and do not join in the dance—that is to say, enlist in the war.Wä go nain, e win?(Why do ye, warriors,)A be yun ah,(Stand back?)Wä wos is se, we yun.(Ye who bear the mark of the Awasees.)The Awasee is a kind of fish, which is thetotemof a clan.f.He declares his full purpose to enter into the war.Ne má je, e yeh!(I go to the spot—the war path!)Ne má je, e yeh!(Repeats.)Ne me kun ah, e yeh!(My war path!)Ge zhig neen wá tin,(My sky is fair and clear.) The common phrase to denote good fortune.Hoh! Ne monedo netaibuätum o win.(Let others linger. Onward! my God!—my right!)In presenting these specimens of the original words of some of our western warriors, we are permitted to give the annexed versions of them from the pen of one of our most gifted writers.WAR-SONG—“Pe-nä´ se-wug.”(From the Algonquin of Schoolcraft.)BY C. F. HOFFMAN.I.Hear not ye their shrill-pipingscreams on the air?Up! Braves for the conflictprepare ye—prepare!Aroused from the canebrake,far south by your drum,With beaks whet fom carnage,the Battle Birds come.II.Oh God of my Fathers,as swiftly as they,I ask but to swoopfrom the hills on my prey:Give this frame to the winds,on the Prairie below,But my soul—like thy bolt—I would hurl on the foe!III.On the forehead of Earthstrikes the Sun in his might,Oh gift me with glancesas searching as light.In the front of the onslaught,to single each crest,Till my hatchet grows redon their bravest and best.IV.Why stand ye back idly,ye Sons of the Lakes?Who boast of the scalp-locks,ye tremble to take.Fear-dreamers may linger,myskies are all bright—Charge—charge—on the War-Path,for God and the Right.Take the following additional example, of a death song. These stanzas have all been actually sung on warlike occasions, and repeated in my hearing. They have been gleaned from the traditionary songs of the Chippewas of the north, whose villages extend through the region of lake Superior, and to the utmost sources of the Mississippi. Those bands are the hereditary foes of their western neighbours, the Dacotahs or Sioux, who are generally called by them, by way of distinction, Na do wä´ sees, that is to say,OUR ENEMIES. The allusions in the songs are exclusively to them. In writing the original, I omit the chorus, as it is not susceptible of translation, and would increase considerably the space occupied.DEATH SONG.1. In opening this song the warrior is to be contemplated as lying wounded on the field of battle.A´ be tuh ge´ zhig,(Under the centre of the sky,)Ne bá baim wä´ wä.(I utter my baim wä wä.)Baimwäwä, is the sound of passing thunders, which will convey a just idea of the violence of this figure.2. His thoughts revert to the star of his destiny.Ain dah´ so gezhig(Every day, thou star!)Ke gá gun o wá bom in.(I gaze at you.)It is the morning star that is here alluded to.3. He sees the birds of carnage hovering over the field.A´ be tuh geézh-ig(The half of the day)Ai be yaun(I abide—gazing)Pe nä se wug.(Ye warlike birds.)4. He keeps the flight of these birds before his mind and hears their shrill cries.Pe misk wosh e wug(They fly round the circuit of the sky.)Pe nä´ se wug(The birds—circling)A´ be tuh geezh ig oag.(Round half the circuit of the sky.) The meaning is, approaching him in circle, more nearly, as life becomes fainter in him.5. This figure is continued. He lies bleeding.A´ zha waush e wug(They cross the enemy's line)Pe nä se wug.(The birds.)6. He feels that he is called to another world.A pit she Mon e doag(The high gods)Ne mud wä wä(My praise)Wá we ne goag.(They sound.)7. He is content and willing to go.Kä gait´, ne min wain´ dum(Full happy—I)Ne bun aí kum ig(To lie on the battle-field)Tshe bá be wish e naun.(Over the enemy's line.)DEATH-SONG—“A´ be tuh gé zhig.”(From the Algonquin of Schoolcraft.)BY C. F. HOFFMAN.I.Under the hollow sky,Stretched on the Prairie lone,Centre of glory, IBleeding, disdain to groan,But like a battle cryPeal forth my thunder moan,Baim-wä-wä!II.Star—Morning-Star, whose rayStill with the dawn I see,Quenchless through half the dayGazing thou seest me—Yon birds of carnage, theyFright not my gaze from thee!Baim-wä-wä!III.Bird, in thine airy ringsOver the foeman's line,Why do thy flapping wingsNearer me thus incline?Blood of the Dauntless bringsCourage, oh Bird to thine!Baim-wä-wä!Hark to those Spirit-notes!Ye high Heroes divine,Hymned from your god-like throatsThat Song of Praise is mine!Mine, whose grave-pennon floatsOver the foeman's line!Baim-wä-wä!
Ne sageau,I love.Ne sageau-ego,I am loved.
OF THE
ODJIBWA ALGONQUINS.
Whoever has heard an Indian war song, and witnessed an Indian war dance, must be satisfied that the occasion wakes up all the fire and energy of the Indian's soul. His flashing eye—his muscular energy, as he begins the dance—his violent gesticulation as he raises his war-cry—the whole frame and expression of the man, demonstrate this. And long before it comes to his turn to utter his stave, or portion of the chant, his mind has been worked up to the most intense point of excitement: his imagination has pictured the enemy—the ambush and the onset—the victory and the bleeding victim, writhing under his prowess: in imagination he has already stamped him under foot, and torn off his reeking scalp: he has seen the eagles hovering in the air, ready to pounce on the dead carcass, as soon as the combatants quit the field.
It would require strong and graphic language to give descriptive utterance, in the shape of song, to all he has fancied, and seen and feels on the subject. He, himself, makes no such effort. Physical excitement has absorbed his energies. He is in no mood for calm and connected descriptions of battle scenes. He has no stores of measured rhymes to fall back on. All he can do is to utter brief, and often highly symbolic expressions of courage—of defiance—of indomitable rage. His feet stamp the ground, as if he would shake it to its centre. The inspiring drum and mystic rattle communicate new energy to every step, while they serve, by the observance of the most exact time, to concentrate his energy. His very looks depict the spirit of rage, and his yells, uttered quick, sharp, and cut off by the application of the hand to the mouth, are startling and horrific.
Under such circumstances, a few short and broken sentences are enough to keep alive the theme in his mind; and he is not probably conscious of the fact, that, to an unimpassioned and calm listener, with note book in hand, there is not sufficient said to give coherence to the song. And that such a song, indeed, under the best auspices, is a mere wild rhapsody of martial thought, poured out from time to time, in detached sentences, which are, so to say, cemented into lines by a flexible chorus and known tune. The song and the music are all of a piece. Vivid and glowing, and poetic pictures will float in such a train, and often strikethe imagination by their graphic truth and boldness; but the poet must look elsewhere for finished melody, and refined and elaborate composition.
The Indian is to be viewed here, as elsewhere, as being in the highest state of hisphysical, not of hismentalphasis. Such glimmerings may however be picked out of these warlike rhapsodies, as denote that he is of a noble and independent tone of thinking. We shall at least enable the reader to judge. The following specimens, which have been derived from actors in the depths of the forest, consist of independent songs, or stanzas, each of which is sung by a different or by the same warrior, while the dance is in progress. The words have been taken down from a young Chippewa warrior of lake Superior, of the name of Che che-gwy-ung. It will be perceived that there is a unity in thetheme, while each warrior exercises the freest scope of expression. This unity I have favoured by throwing out such stanzas as mar it, and afterwards arranging them together.
a.In beginning this song the warrior has turned his eyes to the clouds.
b.The idea of ravenous birds hovering in the sky, still prevails—
c.The warrior now rises above all thoughts of fear.
d.He appeals to the Great Spirit for extraordinary power.
By the boldness of this figure he claims the omnipotent power of the sun to see and discover his enemies.
e.He upbraids such of his people as hold back, and do not join in the dance—that is to say, enlist in the war.
The Awasee is a kind of fish, which is thetotemof a clan.
f.He declares his full purpose to enter into the war.
In presenting these specimens of the original words of some of our western warriors, we are permitted to give the annexed versions of them from the pen of one of our most gifted writers.
(From the Algonquin of Schoolcraft.)
BY C. F. HOFFMAN.
I.Hear not ye their shrill-pipingscreams on the air?Up! Braves for the conflictprepare ye—prepare!Aroused from the canebrake,far south by your drum,With beaks whet fom carnage,the Battle Birds come.II.Oh God of my Fathers,as swiftly as they,I ask but to swoopfrom the hills on my prey:Give this frame to the winds,on the Prairie below,But my soul—like thy bolt—I would hurl on the foe!III.On the forehead of Earthstrikes the Sun in his might,Oh gift me with glancesas searching as light.In the front of the onslaught,to single each crest,Till my hatchet grows redon their bravest and best.IV.Why stand ye back idly,ye Sons of the Lakes?Who boast of the scalp-locks,ye tremble to take.Fear-dreamers may linger,myskies are all bright—Charge—charge—on the War-Path,for God and the Right.
I.Hear not ye their shrill-pipingscreams on the air?Up! Braves for the conflictprepare ye—prepare!Aroused from the canebrake,far south by your drum,With beaks whet fom carnage,the Battle Birds come.II.Oh God of my Fathers,as swiftly as they,I ask but to swoopfrom the hills on my prey:Give this frame to the winds,on the Prairie below,But my soul—like thy bolt—I would hurl on the foe!III.On the forehead of Earthstrikes the Sun in his might,Oh gift me with glancesas searching as light.In the front of the onslaught,to single each crest,Till my hatchet grows redon their bravest and best.IV.Why stand ye back idly,ye Sons of the Lakes?Who boast of the scalp-locks,ye tremble to take.Fear-dreamers may linger,myskies are all bright—Charge—charge—on the War-Path,for God and the Right.
I.
Hear not ye their shrill-piping
screams on the air?
Up! Braves for the conflict
prepare ye—prepare!
Aroused from the canebrake,
far south by your drum,
With beaks whet fom carnage,
the Battle Birds come.
II.
Oh God of my Fathers,
as swiftly as they,
I ask but to swoop
from the hills on my prey:
Give this frame to the winds,
on the Prairie below,
But my soul—like thy bolt—
I would hurl on the foe!
III.
On the forehead of Earth
strikes the Sun in his might,
Oh gift me with glances
as searching as light.
In the front of the onslaught,
to single each crest,
Till my hatchet grows red
on their bravest and best.
IV.
Why stand ye back idly,
ye Sons of the Lakes?
Who boast of the scalp-locks,
ye tremble to take.
Fear-dreamers may linger,
myskies are all bright—
Charge—charge—on the War-Path,
for God and the Right.
Take the following additional example, of a death song. These stanzas have all been actually sung on warlike occasions, and repeated in my hearing. They have been gleaned from the traditionary songs of the Chippewas of the north, whose villages extend through the region of lake Superior, and to the utmost sources of the Mississippi. Those bands are the hereditary foes of their western neighbours, the Dacotahs or Sioux, who are generally called by them, by way of distinction, Na do wä´ sees, that is to say,OUR ENEMIES. The allusions in the songs are exclusively to them. In writing the original, I omit the chorus, as it is not susceptible of translation, and would increase considerably the space occupied.
1. In opening this song the warrior is to be contemplated as lying wounded on the field of battle.
Baimwäwä, is the sound of passing thunders, which will convey a just idea of the violence of this figure.
2. His thoughts revert to the star of his destiny.
It is the morning star that is here alluded to.
3. He sees the birds of carnage hovering over the field.
4. He keeps the flight of these birds before his mind and hears their shrill cries.
5. This figure is continued. He lies bleeding.
6. He feels that he is called to another world.
7. He is content and willing to go.
(From the Algonquin of Schoolcraft.)
BY C. F. HOFFMAN.
I.Under the hollow sky,Stretched on the Prairie lone,Centre of glory, IBleeding, disdain to groan,But like a battle cryPeal forth my thunder moan,Baim-wä-wä!II.Star—Morning-Star, whose rayStill with the dawn I see,Quenchless through half the dayGazing thou seest me—Yon birds of carnage, theyFright not my gaze from thee!Baim-wä-wä!III.Bird, in thine airy ringsOver the foeman's line,Why do thy flapping wingsNearer me thus incline?Blood of the Dauntless bringsCourage, oh Bird to thine!Baim-wä-wä!Hark to those Spirit-notes!Ye high Heroes divine,Hymned from your god-like throatsThat Song of Praise is mine!Mine, whose grave-pennon floatsOver the foeman's line!Baim-wä-wä!
I.Under the hollow sky,Stretched on the Prairie lone,Centre of glory, IBleeding, disdain to groan,But like a battle cryPeal forth my thunder moan,Baim-wä-wä!II.Star—Morning-Star, whose rayStill with the dawn I see,Quenchless through half the dayGazing thou seest me—Yon birds of carnage, theyFright not my gaze from thee!Baim-wä-wä!III.Bird, in thine airy ringsOver the foeman's line,Why do thy flapping wingsNearer me thus incline?Blood of the Dauntless bringsCourage, oh Bird to thine!Baim-wä-wä!Hark to those Spirit-notes!Ye high Heroes divine,Hymned from your god-like throatsThat Song of Praise is mine!Mine, whose grave-pennon floatsOver the foeman's line!Baim-wä-wä!
I.
Under the hollow sky,
Stretched on the Prairie lone,
Centre of glory, I
Bleeding, disdain to groan,
But like a battle cry
Peal forth my thunder moan,
Baim-wä-wä!
II.
Star—Morning-Star, whose ray
Still with the dawn I see,
Quenchless through half the day
Gazing thou seest me—
Yon birds of carnage, they
Fright not my gaze from thee!
Baim-wä-wä!
III.
Bird, in thine airy ringsOver the foeman's line,Why do thy flapping wingsNearer me thus incline?Blood of the Dauntless bringsCourage, oh Bird to thine!Baim-wä-wä!
Bird, in thine airy rings
Over the foeman's line,
Why do thy flapping wings
Nearer me thus incline?
Blood of the Dauntless brings
Courage, oh Bird to thine!
Baim-wä-wä!
Hark to those Spirit-notes!Ye high Heroes divine,Hymned from your god-like throatsThat Song of Praise is mine!Mine, whose grave-pennon floatsOver the foeman's line!Baim-wä-wä!
Hark to those Spirit-notes!
Ye high Heroes divine,
Hymned from your god-like throats
That Song of Praise is mine!
Mine, whose grave-pennon floats
Over the foeman's line!
Baim-wä-wä!