Legends of the Northwest | Page 5

Of the band adverse is a haughty foe-- The dusky, impetuous Harpstinà, [7] The queenly cousin of Wapasa. [8] Kapóza's chief and his tawny hunters Are gathered to witness the queenly game. The ball is thrown and a bat encounters, And away it flies with a loud acclaim. Swift are the maidens that follow after, And swiftly it flies for the farther bound: And long and loud are the peals of laughter, As some fair runner is flung to ground; While backward and forward, and to and fro, The maidens contend on the trampled snow. With loud "Ihó!--Itó!--Ihó!" [9] And waving the beautiful prize anon, The dusky warriors cheer them on. And often the limits are almost passed, As the swift ball flies and returns. At last It leaps the line at a single bound From the fair Wiwastè's sturdy stroke, Like a fawn that flies from the baying hound. Wild were the shouts, and they rolled and broke On the beetling bluffs and the hills profound, An echoing, jubilant sea of sound. Wakawa, the chief, and the loud acclaim Announced the end of the well-fought game, And the fair Wiwastè was victor crowned.
Dark was the visage of Harpstinà When the robe was laid at her rival's feet, And merry maidens and warriors saw Her flashing eyes and her look of hate, As she turned to Wakawa, the chief, and said:-- "The game was mine were it fairly played. I was stunned by a blow on my bended head, As I snatched the ball from slippery ground Not half a fling from Wiwastè's bound. And the cheat--behold her! for there she stands With the prize that is mine in her treacherous hands. The fawn may fly, but the wolf is fleet; The fox creeps sly on Maga's [10] retreat; And a woman's revenge--it is swift and sweet." She turned to her lodge, but a roar of laughter And merry mockery followed after. Little they heeded the words she said, Little they cared for her haughty tread, For maidens and warriors and chieftain knew That her lips were false and her charge untrue.
Wiwastè, the fairest Dakota maiden, The sweet-faced daughter of Little Crow, To her teepee [11] turned with her trophy laden-- The black robe trailing the virgin snow. Beloved was she by her princely father, Beloved was she by the young and old, By merry maidens and many a mother, And many a warrior bronzed and bold. For her face was as fair as a beautiful dream, And her voice like the song of the mountain stream; And her eyes like the stars when they glow and gleam. Through the somber pines of the nor'land wold, When the winds of winter are keen and cold.
Mah-pí-ya Dú-ta [12] the tall Red Cloud, A hunter swift and a warrior proud, With many a scar and many a feather, Was a suitor bold and a lover fond. Long had he courted Wiwastè's father, Long had he sued for the maiden's hand. Aye, brave and proud was the tall Red Cloud, A peerless son of a giant race, And the eyes of the panther were set in his face. He strode like a stag, and he stood like a pine: Ten feathers he wore of the great Wanmdeè; [13] With crimsoned quills of the porcupine His leggins were worked to his brawny knee. The bow he bent was a giant's bow; The swift red elk could he overtake, And the necklace that girdled his brawny neck Was the polished claws of the great Mató [14] He grappled and slew in the northern snow.
Wiwastè looked on the warrior tall; She saw he was brawny and brave and great, But the eyes of the panther she could but hate, And a brave Hóhé [15] loved she better than all. Loved was Mahpíya by Harpstinà, But the warrior she never could charm or draw; And bitter indeed was her secret hate For the maiden she reckoned so fortunate.

HEYóKA WACíPEE [16]--THE GIANT'S DANCE.
The night-sun [17] sails in his gold canoe, The spirits [18] walk in the realms of air With their glowing faces and flaming hair, And the shrill, chill winds o'er the prairies blow. In the Tee [19] of the Council the Virgins light The Virgin-fire [20] for the feast to-night; For the Sons of Heyóka will celebrate The sacred dance to the giant great. The kettle boils on the blazing fire, And the flesh is done to the chief's desire. With his stoic face to sacred East, [21] He takes his seat at the Giant's Feast.
For the feast of Heyóka [22] the braves are dressed With crowns from the bark of the white-birch trees, And new skin leggins that reach the knees; With robes of the bison and swarthy bear, And eagle-plumes in their coal-black hair,