Ah! when will ye vanish and Seegwin return?
HAWK CHANT OF THE SAGINAWS.
The hawks turn their heads nimbly around;
They turn to look back on their flight;
The spirits of sunplace have whispered the words.
They fly with their messages swift;
They look as they fearfully go;
They look to the farthermost end of the world,
Their eyes glancing bright and their beaks boding harm.
Their war songs, as translated, do not convey to us any just idea of what they were to the Indian. It is true of every thing national of whatever people, that those alone can understand its true import who have the same associations; who have been subject to the same influences, and whose enthusiasm is awakened by the same suggestions.