"The Last Battle" by George Copway
Is gleaming brightly o'er the stream,
Which, with a current calm and slow,
Bears on its breast the stealthy foe,
Within their light barks noiselessly;
Who now have paused a moment by
Its entrance to the crystal bay,
Opposed to where the islands lay.
A few brief words, to nerve their breast,
The WEN-DI-GO to each addressed,
With promises of bravery's meed,
Should they in that day's strife succeed,
And meed to warrior's heart more sweet,
Which in the spirit-land should greet
Their souls, should death their path beset,
And when it came, be bravely met.
These said—his bark, whose prow displayed
A feathery pennon's varying shade,
Shot from among the rest, and led
The way around a woodland head
Which had the bay and isles concealed,—
And now before them lay revealed
The scenes whose memory around
Their warmest feelings long had wound,
And where so soon they must decide
If once again they shall abide
Within their quiet spell, or whether
They and this last hope die together.
As the last bark in that array
Came out upon the open bay
And caught the view,—a moment's pause
Ran through the whole, while each one draws
A smothered breath and drops a prayer
For the Great Spirit's guardian care;
Then with a shout of curses dread
To gather upon foemen's head,
By their strong arms each light bark there
Sped onwards like a thing of air,—
And should no foemen check their speed,
Short were the moments that they need
Ere they shall rest their glancing oar
Upon the nearest island's shore,
Where o'er the green and shady strand
The lodges of Ojibway stand,
Beneath whose shady folds repose,
Unconscious of approaching foes,
The chiefs and warriors, but with spear,
And bow, and war-club lying near,
Ready, upon the first alarm,
To be resumed with sturdy arm.
The foremost of the barks hath now
Almost upon the shore its prow,
When sudden from the Ojibway's rang
The war-cry's blast, and, with it sprang
Each warrior there upon his feet
With answering shout, and rushed to meet,
In strife too wild and dark for name,
The foe that thus upon them came.
Then grappled each his nearest foe,
Nor yielded either till the blow
Which drank life's latest current well,
Left him all lifeless where he fell.
But vain the strife,—though for each Sioux
There perished of his foemen two,—
There lived but two of that brave band
To track through foes their way to land.—
ME-GI-SI and the WEN-DI-GO,
Around whom fell at every blow
Victims to their resistless strength,
Had fought their bloody way at length
Upon the beach, and there they stood
Alone, unconquered, unsubdued,—
Keeping, like lions fierce, at bay
Surrounding foemen's whole array,
Or those who were upon them rushing,
In ghastly heaps around them crushing.
Maddened to see the slaughtering tide
And feel their power thus defied,
Shame to their courage adding wing,
The Ojibways upon them spring
Like famished wolves upon the prey
That chance hath thrown within their way,
And sire and son are borne beneath,—
Their flesh an hundred weapons sheath;
And when the rushing crowd gave place,
Within ME-GI-SI's breast all trace
Of life with all its pains had fled,
Mangled he lay among the dead!
But from beneath their raining blows
The WEN-DI-GO again arose,
And dashing off, as things of naught,
Those who to stop his progress sought,
One thrilling yell of scorn he gave,
Then plunged beneath the blood-dyed wave.—
They saw no more,—and whether then
His spirit passed, or if again,
Concealed by magic from the view
He living rose, none ever knew;
Still they believe, amid the dirge
Of winter's winds and water's surge,
Or in the tempest's blasting hour,
They hear his voice and feel his power,—
And even upon summer's night,
When winds are hushed and stars are bright,
They sometimes see his shadow pass
Slowly along the moon-lit grass,
And then with bloodless lips they tell
Of some mischance they know full well
To fall on whom the spirit's eye
Glanced angrily as it passed by.