 | Indian melodies |  |
36
AHMO AND OPEETA.
Two Indian maids on Huron's dewy shore,
The absence of their faithful swains deplore,
Each in her hand, to ward the solar rays,
A garnished fan of native quills displays.
Their long dark locks, with fragrant grass entwined,
Float odorous on the gentle western wind.
The deer-skin shoe, with painted quills replete,
From glowing sands protects their timid feet.
Each taper neck seven strings of wampum grace,
And each displays the beauteous wrought metass.
A flowing robe, of peace-denoting blue,
Enwraps each form and half conceals from view,
Yet half displays—as every breeze that flies
With envious force unfolds its ample size.
The absence of their faithful swains deplore,
Each in her hand, to ward the solar rays,
A garnished fan of native quills displays.
Their long dark locks, with fragrant grass entwined,
Float odorous on the gentle western wind.
The deer-skin shoe, with painted quills replete,
From glowing sands protects their timid feet.
Each taper neck seven strings of wampum grace,
And each displays the beauteous wrought metass.
A flowing robe, of peace-denoting blue,
Enwraps each form and half conceals from view,
Yet half displays—as every breeze that flies
With envious force unfolds its ample size.
Anxious they move, with timid steps and slow,
And frequent heave the sigh of tender woe,
Oft as they pass, they look with tearful eyes,
Where distant isles or towering cliffs arise.
They search the winding shore ... the breezy steep,
And the dark woods where hunted reindeer sleep,
But all in vain ... in vain they weep and pray,
Far o'er the hills their warlike lovers stray.
In vain they fast for two successive days,
Refuse the pearly rice and golden maize;
But not in vain invoke the muse's aid,
The muse till now unknown in Huron's shade.
The muse consents, and in untutor'd lays
Thus simple maids record their lovers' praise.
And frequent heave the sigh of tender woe,
Oft as they pass, they look with tearful eyes,
Where distant isles or towering cliffs arise.
They search the winding shore ... the breezy steep,
And the dark woods where hunted reindeer sleep,
But all in vain ... in vain they weep and pray,
Far o'er the hills their warlike lovers stray.
In vain they fast for two successive days,
Refuse the pearly rice and golden maize;
But not in vain invoke the muse's aid,
The muse till now unknown in Huron's shade.
The muse consents, and in untutor'd lays
Thus simple maids record their lovers' praise.
37
Oft, when the stars shine out and night is mute,
My graceful lover blows his sounding fute;
Its tender notes pervade my beating veins,
And happy thought and sober quiet reigns.
OPEETA.
At day's decline, Wayoond successful hies,
And at my feet he lays the forest's prize,
The smoking haunch is soft and kindly spread,
And fatty white relieves its warlike red.
He tells of rocks and waters he has past,
And all the frowning terrors of the waste.
I sigh while thus he speaks, for well I know
The dreary wood is fill'd with many a woe;
But while I sigh, I smile with rapture too,
For hunters ever are as brave as true.
AHMO.
Less skill'd my lover is, the game to take,
Along the grassy plain or sounding lake,
But when his bleeding country calls to arms,
He rushes heedless of its woes and harms;
He with the valiant takes his wary stand,
And well his eyes delight in dart or brand.
The fray dispatch'd, he brings his captive slave,
And walks a warrior free, and bold and brave.
And when discourse reverts to toils of war,
He tells intent of ghastly wound or scar,
The while on me his eyes with rapture turn,
And through my frame I feel love's passion burn.
He takes my fan, he lifts my fallen band,
And both seem dearer from his ready hand.
Where acts so kindly speak the lover's part,
What need of words his feelings to impart?
38
My lover is as skilful as he's tall,
And in the sport or dance the pride of all.
Once, when the gathered youth, in sports embark,
He hurl'd a hatchet nearest to the mark,
Through all the crowd approving shouts were rais'd,
And I was blithe of heart, and he was prais'd.
AHMO.
Well do I mind, when single and alone,
My warlike lover heaved a giant stone;
His powers of strength drew forth the village cries,
And grateful shouts were sounded through the skies.
OPEETA.
The heavy bow my youthful lover drew,
And instant to the mark his arrow flew.
AHMO.
In speech Ontyah, at the council fire,
Poured from his soul the counsels of a sire;
The wide assembly all his words approv'd,
The man was honour'd and the speaker lov'd.
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