THE SEEDS OF TRUTHROANOAK, 1587

In the tomb of vanished ages sleep th' ungarnered truths of Time,Where the pall of silence covers deeds of honor and of crime;Deeds of sacrifice and danger, which the careless earth forgets,There, in ever-deep'ning shadows, lie embalmed in mute regrets.Would-be-gleaners of the Present vainly grope amid this gloom;Flowers of Truth to be immortal must be gathered while they bloom,Else they pass into the Silence, man's neglect their only blight,And the Gleaner of the Ages stores them far from human sight.Yet a perfume, sweet and subtle, lingers where each flower grew,Rising from the shattered petals, bathed and freshened by the dew;And this perfume, in the twilight, forms a mist beneath the skies,Out of which, like airy phantoms, legends and traditions rise;For the Seeds of Truth are buried in a legend's inmost heart,To transplant them in the sunlight justifies the poet's art.

The arrival of the Englishmen in VirginiaThe arrival of the Englishmen in Virginia

Shimmering waters, aweary of tossing,Hopeful of rest, ripple on to the shore;Dimpling with light, as they waver and quiver,Echoing faintly the ocean's wild roar.Locked in the arms of the tremulous watersNestles an island, with beauty abloom,Where the warm kiss of an amorous summerFills all the air with a languid perfume.Windward, the roar of the turbulent breakersWarns of the dangers of rock and of reef;Burdened with mem'ries of sorrowful shipwreck,They break on the sands in torrents of grief.Leeward, the forest, grown giant in greenness,Shelters a land where a fervid sun shines;Wild with the beauty of riotous nature,Thick with the tangles of fruit-laden vines.[A]From fragrant clusters, grown purple with ripeness,Rare, spicy odors float out to the sea,[B]Where the gray gulls flit with restless endeavor,Skimming the waves in their frolicsome glee.Out from the shore stalks the stately white heron,Seeking his food from the deep without fear,Gracefully waving wide wings as he risesWhen the canoe of the Indian draws near.Through reedy brake and the tangled sea-grassesWander the stag and the timid-eyed doe[C]Down to the water's edge, watchful and waryFor arrows that fly from the red hunter's bow.Fearless Red Hunter! his birthright the forest,Lithe as the antelope, joyous and free.Trusting his bow for his food and his freedom,Wresting a tribute from forest and sea,No chilling forecast of doom in the futureDaunts his brave spirit, by freedom made bold.Far o'er the wildwood he roams at his pleasure,The fierce, brawny Red Man is king of the wold.

Out from the shore stalks the stately white heron,Seeking his food from the deep without fear,Gracefully waving wide wings as he risesWhen the canoe of the Indian draws near.Through reedy brake and the tangled sea-grassesWander the stag and the timid-eyed doe[C]Down to the water's edge, watchful and waryFor arrows that fly from the red hunter's bow.Fearless Red Hunter! his birthright the forest,Lithe as the antelope, joyous and free.Trusting his bow for his food and his freedom,Wresting a tribute from forest and sea,No chilling forecast of doom in the futureDaunts his brave spirit, by freedom made bold.Far o'er the wildwood he roams at his pleasure,The fierce, brawny Red Man is king of the wold.

"The fierce, brawny Red Man is king of the wold""The fierce, brawny Red Man is king of the wold"

Lo! in the offing the white sails are gleaming,Ships from afar to the land drawing nigh;Laden with men, strong and brave to meet danger,Stalwart of form, fair of skin, blue of eye.Boldly they land where the white man is alien;Women are with them, with hearts true and brave;Sadly they stand where their countrymen perished,[D]Seeking a home wheretheyfound but a grave.Friendly red hunters greet them with kindness,Tell the sad tale how their countrymen died,[E]Beg for a token of friendship and safety,[F]Promise in love and in peace to abide.Manteo's heart glows with friendly remembrance,He greets them as brothers and offers good cheer;No thrill of welcome is felt by Wanchese,[G]His heart is bitter with malice and fear.Envying men his superiors in wisdom,Fearing a race his superiors in skill;Sullen and silent he watches the strangers,Whom from the first he determines to kill.Then the sign of the Cross, on the brow of the Indian,[H]Seals to the savage the promise of life;Sweet symbol of sacrifice, emblem of duty,Standard of Peace, though borne amidst strife:Draped with the sombre, stained banner of Conquest,Dark with the guilt of man's murder and greed,Yet bright with God's message of love and forgivenessUnto a universe welded to creed.Gently the morning breeze tosses the tree-tops,Low ebbs the tide on the outlying sand;When a tiny white babe opens eyes to the sunlight,[I]Heaven's sweet pledge for the weal of the land.Babe of the Wilderness! tenderly cherished!Signed with the Cross on the next Sabbath Day;Brave English Mother! through danger and sorrow,For a nation of Christians thou leadest the way.Back to the home-land, across the deep water,Goes the wise leader, their needs to abate;[J]Leaving with sorrow the babe and its motherIn a strange land as a hostage to Fate.Many long months pass in busy home-making,Sweet English customs prevail on the isle;Anxious eyes watch for the ship in the offing,Saddened hearts droop, but the lips bravely smile.Gone are the sweet dreamy days of the summer,In from the ocean the winter winds shriek;Dangers encompass and enemies threaten,Mother and child other refuge must seek.Mother and child, as in Bethlehem story,Flee from the hate of their blood-thirsty foes;Hopeless of help from their own land and people,They seek friendly tribes to find rest from their woes.To the fair borders of Croatoan Island,Over the night-covered waters they flee;Seeking for safety with Manteo's people,Leaving the word "Croatoan" on a tree.[K]Name of the refuge in which they sought shelter,Only the name of a tribe, nothing more;[L]Sign whereby those who would seek them might followTo their new home on the Croatoan's shore.Why did they leave the rude fort they had builded?Why did they seek far away a new home?O innocent babe! Roanoak's lost nestling!How shall we learn where thy footsteps did roam?'Mid the rude tribes of the primeval forest,Bearing the signet of Christ on thy brow,Wert thou the teacher and guide of the savage?Who, of thy mission, can aught tell us now?Through the dim ages comes only the perfume,Left where the flowers of Truth fell to earth;With ne'er a gleaner to treasure the blossoms,Save the sweet petals of baptism and birth.Vainly we seek on Time's shore for thy footprints,Hid in a mist of pathos is thy fate;Yet of a life under savage enchantmentQuaint Indian legends do strangely relate.

Friendly red hunters greet them with kindness,Tell the sad tale how their countrymen died,[E]Beg for a token of friendship and safety,[F]Promise in love and in peace to abide.Manteo's heart glows with friendly remembrance,He greets them as brothers and offers good cheer;No thrill of welcome is felt by Wanchese,[G]His heart is bitter with malice and fear.Envying men his superiors in wisdom,Fearing a race his superiors in skill;Sullen and silent he watches the strangers,Whom from the first he determines to kill.

Then the sign of the Cross, on the brow of the Indian,[H]Seals to the savage the promise of life;Sweet symbol of sacrifice, emblem of duty,Standard of Peace, though borne amidst strife:Draped with the sombre, stained banner of Conquest,Dark with the guilt of man's murder and greed,Yet bright with God's message of love and forgivenessUnto a universe welded to creed.

Gently the morning breeze tosses the tree-tops,Low ebbs the tide on the outlying sand;When a tiny white babe opens eyes to the sunlight,[I]Heaven's sweet pledge for the weal of the land.Babe of the Wilderness! tenderly cherished!Signed with the Cross on the next Sabbath Day;Brave English Mother! through danger and sorrow,For a nation of Christians thou leadest the way.

Back to the home-land, across the deep water,Goes the wise leader, their needs to abate;[J]Leaving with sorrow the babe and its motherIn a strange land as a hostage to Fate.Many long months pass in busy home-making,Sweet English customs prevail on the isle;Anxious eyes watch for the ship in the offing,Saddened hearts droop, but the lips bravely smile.

Gone are the sweet dreamy days of the summer,In from the ocean the winter winds shriek;Dangers encompass and enemies threaten,Mother and child other refuge must seek.Mother and child, as in Bethlehem story,Flee from the hate of their blood-thirsty foes;Hopeless of help from their own land and people,They seek friendly tribes to find rest from their woes.

To the fair borders of Croatoan Island,Over the night-covered waters they flee;Seeking for safety with Manteo's people,Leaving the word "Croatoan" on a tree.[K]Name of the refuge in which they sought shelter,Only the name of a tribe, nothing more;[L]Sign whereby those who would seek them might followTo their new home on the Croatoan's shore.

Why did they leave the rude fort they had builded?Why did they seek far away a new home?O innocent babe! Roanoak's lost nestling!How shall we learn where thy footsteps did roam?'Mid the rude tribes of the primeval forest,Bearing the signet of Christ on thy brow,Wert thou the teacher and guide of the savage?Who, of thy mission, can aught tell us now?Through the dim ages comes only the perfume,Left where the flowers of Truth fell to earth;With ne'er a gleaner to treasure the blossoms,Save the sweet petals of baptism and birth.Vainly we seek on Time's shore for thy footprints,Hid in a mist of pathos is thy fate;Yet of a life under savage enchantmentQuaint Indian legends do strangely relate.

FOOTNOTES:[A]See Appendix, Notea.[B]See Appendix, Noteb.[C]See Appendix, Notec.[D]See Appendix, Noted.[E]See Appendix, Notee.[F]See Appendix, Notee.[G]Pronounced Wan-chess-e.[H]See Appendix, Notef.[I]See Appendix, Noteg.[J]See Appendix, Noteh.[K]See Appendix, Notek.[L]See Appendix, Notek.

[A]See Appendix, Notea.

[B]See Appendix, Noteb.

[C]See Appendix, Notec.

[D]See Appendix, Noted.

[E]See Appendix, Notee.

[F]See Appendix, Notee.

[G]Pronounced Wan-chess-e.

[H]See Appendix, Notef.

[I]See Appendix, Noteg.

[J]See Appendix, Noteh.

[K]See Appendix, Notek.

[L]See Appendix, Notek.

In the Land-of-Wind-and-Water,Loud the sea bemoaned its sameness;Dashing shoreward with impatienceTo explore the landward mysteries.On the sand the waves spread boldly,Vainly striving to reach higher;Then abashed by vain ambition,Glided to their ordained duty.There the pine-tree, tall and stately,Whispered low the ocean's murmur;Strove to soothe the restless watersWith its lullaby of sighing.There the tall and dank sea-grasses,From the storm-tide gathered secretsOf the caverns filled with treasures,Milky pearls and tinted coral,Stores of amber and of jacinth,In the caves festooned with sea-weed,Where the Sea-King held his revelsAnd the Naiads danced in beauty.In this Land-of-Wind-and-Water,Dowered with the sunshine's splendor,Juicy grapes grew in profusion,Draping all the trees with greenness,And the maize grew hard and yellow,With the sunshine in its kernels.Through the forest roamed the black bear,And the red deer boldly herded;Through the air flew birds of flavor,And the sea was full of fishes,Till the Red Man knew no hunger,And his wigwam hung with trophies.

The Land-of-Wind-and-WaterThe Land-of-Wind-and-Water

There brave Man-te-o, the Faithful,Ruled the Cro-a-to-ans with firmness,Dwelt in peace beside the waters,Smoked his pipe beneath the pine-tree,Gazed with pride upon his bear-skinsWhich hung ready for the winter.Told his people all the marvelsOf the Land-of-the-Pale-Faces;Of the ships with wings like sea-birdsWherein he had crossed the water;[M]Of the Pale-Face Weroanza[N]Whom he saw in her own country;Of her robes of silken texture,Of her wisdom and her power;Told them of her warlike peopleAnd their ships which breathed the lightning.How he pledged with them a friendship,Hoping they would come to teach himHow to make his people mighty,How to make them strong in battleSo the other tribes would fear them.And the dream of future greatnessFilled the Cro-a-to-ans with courage;And their hearts grew warm and friendlyTo the race of white-faced strangers.When bold white men came among them,To the isle of Ro-a-no-ak,Man-te-o, the friendly Weroance,Faithful proved to all his pledges.Smoked with them the pipe of friendship,Took their God to be his Father;Took upon his swarthy foreheadTheir strange emblem of salvation,[O]Emblem of the One Great Spirit,Father of all tribes and nations.Man-te-o, the friend and brother,Bade them fear the false Wan-ches-e,And the Weroance Win-gin-a,Whose hearts burned with bitter hatredFor the men they feared in combat,For the strangers who defied them.

When bold white men came among them,To the isle of Ro-a-no-ak,Man-te-o, the friendly Weroance,Faithful proved to all his pledges.Smoked with them the pipe of friendship,Took their God to be his Father;Took upon his swarthy foreheadTheir strange emblem of salvation,[O]Emblem of the One Great Spirit,Father of all tribes and nations.Man-te-o, the friend and brother,Bade them fear the false Wan-ches-e,And the Weroance Win-gin-a,Whose hearts burned with bitter hatredFor the men they feared in combat,For the strangers who defied them.

Man-te-o, a chiefe lorde of RoanoakMan-te-o, a chiefe lorde of Roanoak

When the Pale-Face, weak and hungry,Feeble from continued labor,Shivered in the blasts of winterWhich blew cold across the water,Then Wan-ches-e planned their ruin,With Win-gin-a sought to slay them.To the isle of Ro-a-no-ak,Where the Pale-Face slept unguarded,Sped the swift canoes of Red Men,Gliding through the silent shadows.As the sky grew red with dawning,[P]While they dreamed of home and kindred,Suddenly with whoop of murderWily Indians swarmed around them.Skill of Pale-Face, craft of Red Man,Met in fierce, determined battle;While within the Fort called RaleghMany arrows fell, like raindrops.Arrows tipped with serpent's poison,Arrows tipped with blazing rosin,Winged with savage thirst for murder,Aimed with cruel skill to torture.Threatened by the blazing roof-treeThen the Pale-Face crouched in terror;Saw the folly of resistance,Feared his doom, and fled for safety.Man-te-o, alert for danger,From afar saw signs of conflict;Saw the waves of smoke ascendingHeavenward, like prayers for rescue.Swift, with boats and trusty warriors,Crossed he then to Ro-a-no-ak;Strong to help his Pale-Face brothers,Faithful to his friendly pledges.As the daylight slowly faded,Hopeless of the bloody struggle,Stealthily the Pale-Face warriorsFled with Man-te-o's brave people.Left they then the Fort called Ralegh,Left the dead within its stockade;Sought another island refuge,Hoping there to rest in safety.Man-te-o sought for the mother,[Q]She with babe there born and nurtured'Neath the shadow of disaster,In the Land-of-Wind-and-Water."Come," said he, "the darkness falleth,All your people must flee henceward;Wan-ches-e will show no mercy,You must not become his captive.Take the papoose from thy bosom,Call the white chief whom thou lovest,Haste with me upon the flood-tideTo my wigwam on Wo-ko-kon."Noiseless, she amid the conflictSought her heart's mate to flee with her;Useless all the strife and courage,Useless all the rude home-making;Shrine for worship, fort for safety,Hope of future peace and plenty,All were vain; yet life we cherish,Far above all boons we hold it:So she hastened on her missionFor the life of self and loved ones.As they neared the island border,Pale-Face husband, child, and mother,Man-te-o in silence leading,Every sense alive to danger,Suddenly the Pale-Face fatherThought him of the parting cautionGiven by their absent leader:If they fled in search of safetyOn a tree to leave a token,Whereby he might surely find them,In the land which gave them shelter,When he came again to seek them.[R]By his side a sturdy live-oakSpread its green, protecting branches;Quick he strove to carve the tokenWhich should speak to all who followed.C. R. O., in bold, plain letters[S]Cut he in the tree's firm body,When a random, poisoned arrowPierced his heart, and he fell lifeless.With a smothered cry of horror,In an agony of sorrow,She would fain have lingered near him,But that Man-te-o urged onward.If discovered, flight was futile,Weakness now meant worse disaster;She must save her helpless babyThough her heart be rent with anguish.Frantic with love's desolation,Strong with thoughts of home and father,With a woman's wondrous calmnessWhen great peril calls for action,Safe she placed the sleeping infant'Cross the brawny arms of Man-te-o,While with knife drawn from his girdleCarved she on another live-oakPlain, the one word "CROATOAN"[T]As a sign to all her people.Trusting all to savage friendship,Cutting hope with every letter,Praying God to guide her fatherTo the haven she was seeking.Trust is woman's strongest bulwark,All true manhood yields unto it.As her sad eyes turned upon himMan-te-o was moved with pityFor the brave and tender woman,Friendless in the land without him.On the brow of Pale-Face babyFirst he made the Holy Cross-Sign;Then upon the sad-eyed motherTraced the sign her people taught him;Then again the sacred symbolOutlined on his own dark forehead;And with open hand upliftedSealed his promise of protection;Linking thus his pledge of safetyWith her faith in Unseen Power.Mute with grief, she trusted in him;In his boat they crossed the water,While the night fell like a mantleSpread in mercy to help save them.When in Cro-a-to-an they landed,There they found the few survivorsOf that day of doom to many,Glad once more to greet each other.Man-te-o within his wigwamFrom the cold wind gave them shelter,Shared with them his furry bear-skins,Made them warm, and warmth gave courageTo meet life's relentless duties.Then he summoned all the people,Called the old men and the young men,Bade the squaws to come and listen,Showed the papoose to the women.They gazed on its tender whiteness,Stroked the mother's flaxen tresses;"'Tis a snow-papoose" they whispered,"It will melt when comes the summer."Man-te-o said to the warriors:"Ye all know these Pale-Face peopleWhom Wan-ches-e sought to murder,They have often made us welcome.Brave their hearts, but few are living,If left friendless these will perish;We have store of corn and venison,They are hungry, let us feed them;They have lightning for their arrows,Let them teach us how to shoot it.They with us shall search the forest,And our game shall be abundant;Let them teach us their strange wisdomAnd become with us one people."And the old men, grave in counsel,And the young men, mute with deference,While the uppowoc[U]was burning,Pondered on his words thus spoken,And to Man-te-o gave answer:"All your words are full of wisdom;We will share with them our venison,They shall be as our own people."From the isle of Ro-a-no-akThus the Pale-Face fled for succor,Thus in Cro-a-to-an's fair bordersFound a home with friendly Red Men.Nevermore to see white faces,Nevermore to see their home-land,Yet to all the future agesSending proof of honest daring;Forging thus a link of effortIn the chain of human progress.

When the Pale-Face, weak and hungry,Feeble from continued labor,Shivered in the blasts of winterWhich blew cold across the water,Then Wan-ches-e planned their ruin,With Win-gin-a sought to slay them.

To the isle of Ro-a-no-ak,Where the Pale-Face slept unguarded,Sped the swift canoes of Red Men,Gliding through the silent shadows.As the sky grew red with dawning,[P]While they dreamed of home and kindred,Suddenly with whoop of murderWily Indians swarmed around them.

Skill of Pale-Face, craft of Red Man,Met in fierce, determined battle;While within the Fort called RaleghMany arrows fell, like raindrops.Arrows tipped with serpent's poison,Arrows tipped with blazing rosin,Winged with savage thirst for murder,Aimed with cruel skill to torture.Threatened by the blazing roof-treeThen the Pale-Face crouched in terror;Saw the folly of resistance,Feared his doom, and fled for safety.

Man-te-o, alert for danger,From afar saw signs of conflict;Saw the waves of smoke ascendingHeavenward, like prayers for rescue.Swift, with boats and trusty warriors,Crossed he then to Ro-a-no-ak;Strong to help his Pale-Face brothers,Faithful to his friendly pledges.

As the daylight slowly faded,Hopeless of the bloody struggle,Stealthily the Pale-Face warriorsFled with Man-te-o's brave people.Left they then the Fort called Ralegh,Left the dead within its stockade;Sought another island refuge,Hoping there to rest in safety.

Man-te-o sought for the mother,[Q]She with babe there born and nurtured'Neath the shadow of disaster,In the Land-of-Wind-and-Water."Come," said he, "the darkness falleth,All your people must flee henceward;Wan-ches-e will show no mercy,You must not become his captive.Take the papoose from thy bosom,Call the white chief whom thou lovest,Haste with me upon the flood-tideTo my wigwam on Wo-ko-kon."

Noiseless, she amid the conflictSought her heart's mate to flee with her;Useless all the strife and courage,Useless all the rude home-making;Shrine for worship, fort for safety,Hope of future peace and plenty,All were vain; yet life we cherish,Far above all boons we hold it:So she hastened on her missionFor the life of self and loved ones.

As they neared the island border,Pale-Face husband, child, and mother,Man-te-o in silence leading,Every sense alive to danger,Suddenly the Pale-Face fatherThought him of the parting cautionGiven by their absent leader:If they fled in search of safetyOn a tree to leave a token,Whereby he might surely find them,In the land which gave them shelter,When he came again to seek them.[R]

By his side a sturdy live-oakSpread its green, protecting branches;Quick he strove to carve the tokenWhich should speak to all who followed.C. R. O., in bold, plain letters[S]Cut he in the tree's firm body,When a random, poisoned arrowPierced his heart, and he fell lifeless.

With a smothered cry of horror,In an agony of sorrow,She would fain have lingered near him,But that Man-te-o urged onward.If discovered, flight was futile,Weakness now meant worse disaster;She must save her helpless babyThough her heart be rent with anguish.

Frantic with love's desolation,Strong with thoughts of home and father,With a woman's wondrous calmnessWhen great peril calls for action,Safe she placed the sleeping infant'Cross the brawny arms of Man-te-o,While with knife drawn from his girdleCarved she on another live-oakPlain, the one word "CROATOAN"[T]As a sign to all her people.Trusting all to savage friendship,Cutting hope with every letter,Praying God to guide her fatherTo the haven she was seeking.

Trust is woman's strongest bulwark,All true manhood yields unto it.As her sad eyes turned upon himMan-te-o was moved with pityFor the brave and tender woman,Friendless in the land without him.

On the brow of Pale-Face babyFirst he made the Holy Cross-Sign;Then upon the sad-eyed motherTraced the sign her people taught him;Then again the sacred symbolOutlined on his own dark forehead;And with open hand upliftedSealed his promise of protection;Linking thus his pledge of safetyWith her faith in Unseen Power.

Mute with grief, she trusted in him;In his boat they crossed the water,While the night fell like a mantleSpread in mercy to help save them.

When in Cro-a-to-an they landed,There they found the few survivorsOf that day of doom to many,Glad once more to greet each other.Man-te-o within his wigwamFrom the cold wind gave them shelter,Shared with them his furry bear-skins,Made them warm, and warmth gave courageTo meet life's relentless duties.

Then he summoned all the people,Called the old men and the young men,Bade the squaws to come and listen,Showed the papoose to the women.They gazed on its tender whiteness,Stroked the mother's flaxen tresses;"'Tis a snow-papoose" they whispered,"It will melt when comes the summer."

Man-te-o said to the warriors:"Ye all know these Pale-Face peopleWhom Wan-ches-e sought to murder,They have often made us welcome.Brave their hearts, but few are living,If left friendless these will perish;We have store of corn and venison,They are hungry, let us feed them;They have lightning for their arrows,Let them teach us how to shoot it.They with us shall search the forest,And our game shall be abundant;Let them teach us their strange wisdomAnd become with us one people."

And the old men, grave in counsel,And the young men, mute with deference,While the uppowoc[U]was burning,Pondered on his words thus spoken,And to Man-te-o gave answer:"All your words are full of wisdom;We will share with them our venison,They shall be as our own people."

From the isle of Ro-a-no-akThus the Pale-Face fled for succor,Thus in Cro-a-to-an's fair bordersFound a home with friendly Red Men.Nevermore to see white faces,Nevermore to see their home-land,Yet to all the future agesSending proof of honest daring;Forging thus a link of effortIn the chain of human progress.

FOOTNOTES:[M]See Appendix, Notel.[N]Queen Elizabeth.[O]See Appendix, Notef.[P]See Appendix, Notem.[Q]Eleanor Dare.[R]See Appendix, Notek.[S]See Appendix, Notek.[T]See Appendix, Notek.[U]Tobacco.

[M]See Appendix, Notel.

[N]Queen Elizabeth.

[O]See Appendix, Notef.

[P]See Appendix, Notem.

[Q]Eleanor Dare.

[R]See Appendix, Notek.

[S]See Appendix, Notek.

[T]See Appendix, Notek.

[U]Tobacco.

Nature feels no throb of pity,Makes no pause for human heartbreak;Though with agony we quiver,She gives forth no sign of feeling.Waxed and waned the moon, in season,Ebbed and flowed the tides obedient;Summers filled the land with plenty,Winters chilled the summers' ardor.No winged ships gleamed in the offing;No Pale-Faces sought their kindred;In the Land-of-Wind-and-WaterRoamed the Red Man unmolested.While the babe of Ro-a-no-akGrew in strength and wondrous beauty;Like a flower of the wildwood,Bloomed beside the Indian maidens.And Wi-no-na Skâ[V]they called her,She of all the maidens fairest.In the tangles of her tressesSunbeams lingered, pale and yellow;In her eyes the limpid bluenessOf the noonday sky was mirrored.And the squaws of darksome featuresSmiled upon her fair young beauty;Felt their woman hearts within themWarming to the Pale-Face maiden.And the braves, who scorned all weakness,Listened to her artless prattle,While their savage natures softened,Of the change themselves unconscious.Like the light of summer morningBeaming on a world in slumberWas the face of young Wi-no-naTo the Cro-a-to-ans who loved her.She, whose mind bore in its dawningImpress of developed races,To the rude, untutored savageSeemed divinely 'dowed with reason.She, the heir of civilization,They, the slaves of superstition,Gave to her a silent rev'rence,Growing better with such giving.Oft she told them that the Cross-Sign,Made by Man-te-o before themWhen he talked to his own nation,Was the symbol of a SpiritGreat, and good, and wise, and loving;He who kept the maize-fields fruitful,He who filled the sea with fishes,He who made the sun to warm themAnd sent game to feed His children.If, when in their games or councils,They grew quarrelsome and angry,Suddenly among them standingWas a maiden like the sunrise,Making with her taper fingerThis strange sign which they respected;And without a word of pleadingStrife and wrath would no more vex them,While the influence of her presenceLingered 'round them like enchantment.Thus the babe of Ro-a-no-akGrew to be the joy and teacherOf a tribe of native heathenIn the land which gave her shelter.And the tide of her affectionsFlowed to those who gave her friendship;Whom alone she knew as human,Whom to her became as kindred.

While the babe of Ro-a-no-akGrew in strength and wondrous beauty;Like a flower of the wildwood,Bloomed beside the Indian maidens.And Wi-no-na Skâ[V]they called her,She of all the maidens fairest.In the tangles of her tressesSunbeams lingered, pale and yellow;In her eyes the limpid bluenessOf the noonday sky was mirrored.And the squaws of darksome featuresSmiled upon her fair young beauty;Felt their woman hearts within themWarming to the Pale-Face maiden.And the braves, who scorned all weakness,Listened to her artless prattle,While their savage natures softened,Of the change themselves unconscious.

Like the light of summer morningBeaming on a world in slumberWas the face of young Wi-no-naTo the Cro-a-to-ans who loved her.She, whose mind bore in its dawningImpress of developed races,To the rude, untutored savageSeemed divinely 'dowed with reason.She, the heir of civilization,They, the slaves of superstition,Gave to her a silent rev'rence,Growing better with such giving.Oft she told them that the Cross-Sign,Made by Man-te-o before themWhen he talked to his own nation,Was the symbol of a SpiritGreat, and good, and wise, and loving;He who kept the maize-fields fruitful,He who filled the sea with fishes,He who made the sun to warm themAnd sent game to feed His children.

If, when in their games or councils,They grew quarrelsome and angry,Suddenly among them standingWas a maiden like the sunrise,Making with her taper fingerThis strange sign which they respected;And without a word of pleadingStrife and wrath would no more vex them,While the influence of her presenceLingered 'round them like enchantment.

Thus the babe of Ro-a-no-akGrew to be the joy and teacherOf a tribe of native heathenIn the land which gave her shelter.And the tide of her affectionsFlowed to those who gave her friendship;Whom alone she knew as human,Whom to her became as kindred.

FOOTNOTES:[V]Literally, "first-born white daughter."

[V]Literally, "first-born white daughter."

Man-to-ac, the Mighty Father,When he filled the earth with blessings,Deep within the heart of WomanHid the burning Need-of-Loving;Which through her should warm the agesWith a flame of mutual feeling,Throbbing through her sons and daughtersWith a force beyond their power.And this law of human loving,Changeless through unending changes,Fills each living heart with yearningFor another heart to love it;And against this ceaseless cravingCreed, nor clime, nor color standeth;Heart to heart all nature criethThat the earth may thrill with gladness.So the young braves of the nation,Thrilled with love for fair Wi-no-na,Made rude ornaments to please her,Laid the red deer at her wigwam.Brought her skins of furry rabbitsSoft and white as her own skin was;Robbed the black bear and the otterThat her bed might soft and warm be.And the children of the forestWere uplifted by such lovingOf a higher type of being,Who yet throbbed with human instincts.Brave O-kis-ko loved the maidenWith a love which made him noble;With the love that self-forgettingFills the soul with higher impulse.As the sun with constant fervor,Heat and light to earth bestowing,Seeks for no return of blessing,Feels no loss for all his giving,So O-kis-ko loved Wi-no-na,Gave her all his heart's rude homage,Felt no loss for all his giving,Loved her for the joy of loving.Scorned he all fatigue and dangerWhich would bring her food or pleasure;And each day brought proof of fealty,For his deeds were more than language.For her sake he tried to fastenTo his rude canoe white pinionsLike the winged ships of the white man,That with her he might sail boldlyOut towards the rosy sunrise,Seeking for her lost grandsire[W]For whose coming her heart saddened.Though his red companions mocked him,His endeavor pleased the maiden,And her eyes beamed kindly on him,Though no passion stirred her pulses.For sweet maiden hopes and fanciesFilled her life with happy dreamingEre her woman's heart awakenedTo O-kis-ko's patient waiting.Waiting for her eyes to brighten'Neath the ardor of his glances;Waiting for her soul to quickenWith the answer to his longing;Finding sweet content in silence,Glad each day to see and serve her.Now old Chi-co, the Magician,Also loved the fair Wi-no-na,All his youth to him returningAs he gazed upon her beauty.In his wigwam pelt of gray wolf,Antlers of the deer and bison,Hung to prove his deeds of valor;And he wooed the gentle maidenWith his cunning tales of prowess.She would not rebuke his boasting,Fearful lest her words offend him;For her nature kind and lovingCould not scorn the vaunting Chi-co.When he walked among the maidens,Gay with paint and decked with feathers,She would look on him with kindnessThat the others might not scoff him;She would smile upon his weakness,Though she did not wish to wed him.Chi-co's love was fierce as fireWhich from flame yields only ashes;Which gives not for joy of giving,But demands unceasing tribute,More and more to feed its craving.He grew eager and impatient,He would share with none her favor;All for him her eyes must brighten,Else his frown would blight her pleasure.When the young men played or wrestled,If O-kis-ko came out victor;Or returning with the huntersHe it was who bore the stag home;If with eyes abrim with pleasureSweet Wi-no-na smiled upon him,Or with timid maiden shynessDrooped her eyes beneath his glances,Then old Chi-co's heart would witherWith the fire of jealous fury,Till at length in bitter angerHe determined none should win her,As from him she turned in coldness.Wrapped in silence grim and sullen,Much he wandered near the water;With his soul he took dark counsel,Seeking for devices cruelFor the torture of his rivalAnd destruction of the maiden.Though he rarely used his power,Chi-co was a great magician.He knew all the spells of starlightAnd the link 'tween moon and water;Knew the language of lost spiritsAnd the secret of their power;Knew the magic words and symbolsWhereby man may conquer nature.Long he plotted,—much he brooded,While he gathered from the waterMussel-pearls all streaked and piedèd,[X]All with rays like purple halos.Such pearls are the souls of NaiadsWho have disobeyed the Sea-King,And in mussel-shells are prisonedFor this taint of human frailty.When by man released from duranceThese souls, grateful for their freedom,Are his slaves, and ever renderGood or evil at his bidding.Chi-co steeped each one he gatheredIn a bath of mystic brewing;Told each purple, piedèd pearl-dropWhat the evil was he plotted.Never once his purpose wavered,Never once his fury lessened;Nursing vengeance as a guerdonWhile the mussel-pearls he polished.Then a new canoe he fashioned,Safe, and strong, and deep he made it;[Y]And then sought to work his magicOn the innocent Wi-no-na;Asked the maiden to go with himIn his boat across the water."Come," said he, "to Ro-a-no-ak,Where the waves are white with blossoms,Where the grapes hang ripe in clusters,Come with me and drink their juices."

So the young braves of the nation,Thrilled with love for fair Wi-no-na,Made rude ornaments to please her,Laid the red deer at her wigwam.Brought her skins of furry rabbitsSoft and white as her own skin was;Robbed the black bear and the otterThat her bed might soft and warm be.And the children of the forestWere uplifted by such lovingOf a higher type of being,Who yet throbbed with human instincts.

Brave O-kis-ko loved the maidenWith a love which made him noble;With the love that self-forgettingFills the soul with higher impulse.As the sun with constant fervor,Heat and light to earth bestowing,Seeks for no return of blessing,Feels no loss for all his giving,So O-kis-ko loved Wi-no-na,Gave her all his heart's rude homage,Felt no loss for all his giving,Loved her for the joy of loving.Scorned he all fatigue and dangerWhich would bring her food or pleasure;And each day brought proof of fealty,For his deeds were more than language.

For her sake he tried to fastenTo his rude canoe white pinionsLike the winged ships of the white man,That with her he might sail boldlyOut towards the rosy sunrise,Seeking for her lost grandsire[W]For whose coming her heart saddened.Though his red companions mocked him,His endeavor pleased the maiden,And her eyes beamed kindly on him,Though no passion stirred her pulses.For sweet maiden hopes and fanciesFilled her life with happy dreamingEre her woman's heart awakenedTo O-kis-ko's patient waiting.Waiting for her eyes to brighten'Neath the ardor of his glances;Waiting for her soul to quickenWith the answer to his longing;Finding sweet content in silence,Glad each day to see and serve her.

Now old Chi-co, the Magician,Also loved the fair Wi-no-na,All his youth to him returningAs he gazed upon her beauty.In his wigwam pelt of gray wolf,Antlers of the deer and bison,Hung to prove his deeds of valor;And he wooed the gentle maidenWith his cunning tales of prowess.

She would not rebuke his boasting,Fearful lest her words offend him;For her nature kind and lovingCould not scorn the vaunting Chi-co.

When he walked among the maidens,Gay with paint and decked with feathers,She would look on him with kindnessThat the others might not scoff him;She would smile upon his weakness,Though she did not wish to wed him.

Chi-co's love was fierce as fireWhich from flame yields only ashes;Which gives not for joy of giving,But demands unceasing tribute,More and more to feed its craving.He grew eager and impatient,He would share with none her favor;All for him her eyes must brighten,Else his frown would blight her pleasure.

When the young men played or wrestled,If O-kis-ko came out victor;Or returning with the huntersHe it was who bore the stag home;If with eyes abrim with pleasureSweet Wi-no-na smiled upon him,Or with timid maiden shynessDrooped her eyes beneath his glances,Then old Chi-co's heart would witherWith the fire of jealous fury,Till at length in bitter angerHe determined none should win her,As from him she turned in coldness.

Wrapped in silence grim and sullen,Much he wandered near the water;With his soul he took dark counsel,Seeking for devices cruelFor the torture of his rivalAnd destruction of the maiden.

Though he rarely used his power,Chi-co was a great magician.He knew all the spells of starlightAnd the link 'tween moon and water;Knew the language of lost spiritsAnd the secret of their power;Knew the magic words and symbolsWhereby man may conquer nature.

Long he plotted,—much he brooded,While he gathered from the waterMussel-pearls all streaked and piedèd,[X]All with rays like purple halos.

Such pearls are the souls of NaiadsWho have disobeyed the Sea-King,And in mussel-shells are prisonedFor this taint of human frailty.When by man released from duranceThese souls, grateful for their freedom,Are his slaves, and ever renderGood or evil at his bidding.

Chi-co steeped each one he gatheredIn a bath of mystic brewing;Told each purple, piedèd pearl-dropWhat the evil was he plotted.Never once his purpose wavered,Never once his fury lessened;Nursing vengeance as a guerdonWhile the mussel-pearls he polished.

Then a new canoe he fashioned,Safe, and strong, and deep he made it;[Y]And then sought to work his magicOn the innocent Wi-no-na;Asked the maiden to go with himIn his boat across the water."Come," said he, "to Ro-a-no-ak,Where the waves are white with blossoms,Where the grapes hang ripe in clusters,Come with me and drink their juices."

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