"The Council" by George Copway
The very heavens seems to seek
Which rises on the southern shore
And looks Superior's waters o'er,
Are gathering now the few who fled,
When yesterday so illy sped.
Though the gray dawn of morn appeared,
Ere from the cave their course they steered,
And many a long mile lay between
This place and where the strife had been,
The gathered ranks already show
ME-GI-SI and the WEN-DI-GO.
Quickly they come and silent meet,
Without a word or look to greet,
But each as up tho steep he wound,
Threw himself mutely on the ground,
Till of that scattered band the last
Had to his place in silence passed.
No darkly agitating trace
Could be discovered in the face
Of ardent youth or furrowed age
To tell of passion's inward rage,—
But, every brow was calm and stern,
Whatever smothered fires might burn
The WEN-DI-GO, to whom the lead,
As well in council as in dead,
Had long been given as his due,
For wisdom, deep, and courage true,
Slowly arose. There was no burst
Of passion in his words at first,
But calmly over each event
That marked their recent strife he went
And e'en his voice grew sadly mild
As his words turned upon his child
Whom the great Monitou, he said,
Had now restored as from the dead,
From which the cheering hope he drew,
Although their numbers might be few,
The Monitou was still their friend,
And would not fail them in the end,
A hallowed cause like theirs to bless
With signal and complete success.—
But when he dwelt upon the wrong
Which they had now endured so long
From the foul race of Ojibway,
And pointed to the land that lay
Far as the eye around could roam,
And told them, that was once their home,
But home from which they were expelled,
And now by hated foemen held,—
The powers which in his bosom reigned,
But which till then he had restrained,
Burst forth and like Heaven's lightning glowed,
While every working feature showed
The fearful torrent-like control
Which passion held within his soul.
Like fire when o'er the prairies rushing
Or torrents from a mountain gushing,
The impulse of his own was pressed
With light-like speed from breast to breast.
No bosom there but was on fire,
No heart which did not glow with ire;
And when he ceased, in such dread yell
Upon the air their warwhoop fell,
The wild beast from his covert fled,
The wild birds screamed above their head,
And long when from their lips it died,
It echoed down the mountain's side.
A free discussion then arose
For every warrior to propose
What to each one might seem to show
The best advantage o'er the foe.
At no great distance to the right,
And only hidden from their sight
By rocky bluffs, which ledge on ledge
Abrupt rose in the water's edge,
Within a large and quiet bay
A clustering group of islands lay.
Here scattered o'er the banks of green,
And shady groves, there might be seen
Many a lodge whose bark so white
Was sending back the noonday light.
Upon these isles the Ojibway,
Since, from their homes they drove away
The conquered Sioux, had dwelt secure,
And deeming them at once a sure
And safe retreat, had gathered all
Incessant warfare did not call,
To deeds from deeds already done,
To keep the land thus foully won.
To this fair spot each thought was turned,
And every warrior's bosom burned
To win again those long-lost isles
And live within their quiet smiles.
Here then each heart resolved as soon
As reached to-morrow's sun its noon,
To strike a blow should free the land
From the accursed foemen's hand,
Or fighting till the last was slain,
Leave their hearts' blood upon the plain.