"The Cave" by George Copway
Whata'er their thoughts, they had no vent;
But mute they still their way pursued,
Deeper within the solitude.
At length the youth impatient grown,
Paused and exclaimed in no slight tone—
"That I am brave no longer thou
Canst doubt from what thou seest now,—
If thou hadst not that lesson learned
By yesterday's experience earned. T
he distance now precludes all fear
Of treacherous band or listening ear,
Then tell thy wish what e'er it be, T
you'll find no coward heart in me,—
Speak! or this knife may shame to wear
Another sheath than that I bear."
"Peace, fool," replied the WEN-DI-GO,
As quick he turned and struck a blow
That sent the spinning blade so well
They could not hear it where it fell.
"Check thy hot blood, nor deem that I
Have brought thee here for treachery.—
Think you, had I desired your life,
Ere you awoke could not my knife
Have borne to your unconscious breast
The blow that brings eternal rest?
I have a tale will pierce thy heart
Worse than a foeman's barbed dart,—
Doubt not, but follow me," and then
Turned and pursued the trail again,
Nor long pursued before around
A bold and rocky point it wound,
Which sent its craggy summit high
Aloft into the dusky sky,
And terminated in a cove
Formed by the arching rocks above.
Here entered they, and on a rock,
Torn from the roof by some rude shock,
They took their seat. A wilder spot
Throughout the universe is not
As this which now their steps had found,
Than that by which they were surround.
Far, far away beneath the ground
There came a hoarse and gurgling sound
Of water into fury lashed,
As o'er some precipice 'twere dashed;
The owl, scared by their entrance, fled,
And screamed its notes above their head;—
Lank wolves, whose den the cave had been,
Prowled round them as they entered in,
While just without the cavern's door,
The waters of St. Louis roar,
As o'er the dizzy fall they flow;
And then an hundred feet below,
With deafening sound they break and boil
In endless strife and wild turmoil.
"Here in this dark and gloomy grot,"
The WEN-DI-GO began,—"a spot
Where oft, 'tis said, the Manitou
Unveils himself to human view.
And smiles or frowns as he discovers
Of truth or falsehood they are lovers;
Here let me rest while I disclose
A tale may leave us no more foes,
'And the Great Spirit do by me
As I shall deal in truth with thee.
You wonder that I brought you here,
But ah! you know not half how dear
Is this wild spot to me. Strange chance
Which brings again within my glance
The scenes where long, long winters past,
When the quiet blood of youth flowed fast,
I wandered with my bow well strung
And quiver o'er my shoulders flung,
And if my arrow rightly sped
When pointed at the wild bird's head,
Whatever fortune might betide,
boil my merry heart was satisfied.
Here, too, in after years I roved
In fondness with the bride I loved;
This was our home, till that foul day
When the accursed Ojibway
Rushed down upon us, scattering death
Like Evil Spirit's poisoned breath,
And with false heart and bloody hand
Drove us from our paternal land.
Thou knowest well the hatred strong
Hath dwelt between our nations long,
And from this land where now you see
The curs'd Ojibway roving free,
Thou knowest by that hated race
The Sioux was torn till not a place
By stream or mountain now is left
Of which he hath not been bereft.
Strange chance! Upon that very steep
Where those we left so lately, sleep,
My wigwam stood. My bride as bright
As the unclouded moon at night;—
Ahpuckways from rushes wove
And sung sweet notes which spake of love,—
While o'er the grass with prattling joy
Gambolled, with happy heart, our boy.
It was a bright and summer's day—
They were alone, I was a way
Upon the wild deer's track. Night fell
And I returned, but who can tell
The anguish of that hour! I came
To see my wigwam in a flame,—
My wife was slain,—the purple tide
Was oozing yot warm from her side,
But still so sweet was that faint smile
Which shone upon her face the while,
I could not deem her dead, but flung
Myself upon tho ground, and clung
To her loved side, kissing a way
The crimson drops of blood that lay
Sprinkled upon her pallid cheeks;
And then in wild and broken shrieks
I fondly called upon her name;—
I kissed her lips; but closed in death
Those lips from which there came no breath.
I sought my boy, but he was gone,
And I in anguish and alone,
Stood like an oak. The thunder bird
Had riven at the spirit's word.
Till that day passion's fearful blast
Had never o'er my spit-it passed.
No angry strife, no withering care,
No burning curse had entered there;
My bride, my boy, they were the springs
That ever moved my spirit's wings—
But as I stood and wept to view
Her own heart's blood, my bride bedew,
And thought upon the hated foe
Whose arm had dealt the scathing blow,
Dark thoughts within my soul found place
In strange and lightening-like embrace.
Horror and anguish, and despair
Alone at first were mingled there,
But these full soon gave place to one
Deep, burning passion, which alone
Took full possession of my breast.
Revenge! Revenge! How I caressed
The darling thought.—All else that life
Deems worthy of a mortal's strife,
Was swallowed up in this wild thirst
For vengeance on the foe accursed.
I knelt upon the turf beside
The murdered body of my bride,
And with one hand upon her head,
The other with the warm blood red,
There in the presence of the dead,
I vowed my first and latest breath
To hate, to vengeance and to death!
Winters have passed, and it is now
Long since I made that fearful vow,
But never since that fatal hour
Hath it a moment lost its power.
How well it hath been kept, let those
Who fell beneath my arm disclose.
Revenge! It is a powerful charm
To steel the heart and nerve the arm,
To give the foot unwonted speed,
And to the eye in hour of need
A lynx-like quickness; such I've proved
The passion that within me moved.
An hundred warriors hath this hand
Already sent to that far land
Where wander shadows of the dead
By the dim light Aurora shed.
Thine would have been among the rest,
But that I marked upon thy breast
That which withheld my lifted head.
My bride had in our happy hours,
Marked, with the dyes of various flowers,
Such as our tribe alone employ,
Our Totem on our little boy.
I saw upon thy breast that sign,—
I knew it well,—Yes! thou art mine!—
My long lost child 1Thy purple veins
No foul Ojibway blood sustains.
O'er thy bold form there is no trace
Of that despised, snake-hearted race,
Who not contented our fair land
To desolate with knife and brand,
Must yet, our very sons engage,
Contest against their sires to wage.
But theirs no more, thy iron nerve;
Rather than thou that foe shouldst serve
My blade shall penetrate thy heart,
E'en though my only child thou art.
If yet a single spark remains
Of noble impulse in thy veins,
And contact with the Ojibway
Hath not extinguished the last ray
Of the proud spirit of thy sires,—
Now, ere the waning night expires,
Swear to revenge the wrongs we bear,
And hers, thy murdered mother's, swear!"
The old man ceased, and had the light
Permitted him the welcome sight,
He would have seen that haughty ire
Which lent his eye its dazzling fire,
The features of the youth reveal;
As thus he answered the appeal:—
"By the dread Monitou that dwells
Within these arched and craggy dells,—
By her whose bright and watchful eye
Was o'er me bent in infancy,
I swear!" The echoes of the word
Along the cavern's roof was heard,
And when they died away, a sigh,
Soft as when evening winds pass by,
Sweet as the swan's expiring notes
Upon the air around them floats.
"Hush," said the WEN-DI-GO; "It is
My bride came from the bower of bliss,
In the far country of the dead,
To breathe a blessing o'er thy head.
Thou shadowy spirit, for whose sake,
I live both when I sleep and wake,
Whose influence in rest and strife
Hath been the guide-star of my life,
And to revenge whose wrongs, no pains,
No torture could my hand restrain,
Delay thy flight to the bright shore,
Which waits thy coming, till once more,
As in that bitter day, I swear
For every tress of thy fair hair
Which decked thy head when laid so low
I'll pluck a scalp from that of foe.
Spirit! Let this thy sadness cheat,
Till shadows both again we meet.