[3] Parkman, in his Pioneers of France in the New World, says, in a footnote (p. 321): “According to Lafitau, both bucklers and breast-plates were in frequent use among the Iroquois. The former were very large, and made of cedar wood covered with interwoven thongs of hide.”
[4] In this ballad, the writer has purposely omitted to recognize the part taken in the affair by the few Algonquin and Huron Indians who joined the Frenchmen. First, because nearly the whole number deserted to the enemy during the conflict, thus more than counterbalancing any service which they may have rendered at the outset, and, second, because the contrast of race and character is lost by mixing civilized and savage men together as allies in opposition to combatants of the latter type. For these reasons, he ventures to think that the spirit of poesy will justify this deviation from the strict line of historical narration.
CHANGE ON THE OTTAWA.
(A Fragment.)
I. Onward the Saxon treads. Few years ago, A chief of the Algonquins passed at dawn, With knife, and tomahawk, and painted bow, Down the wild Ottawa, and climbed upon A rocky pinnacle, where in the glow Of boyhood he had loved to chase the fawn; Proudly he stood there, listening to the roar Of rapids sounding, sounding evermore.
II. All else was silence, save the muffled sound Of partridge drumming on the fallen tree, Or dry brush crackling from the sudden bound Of startled deer, that snorts, and halts to see Then onward o’er the leaf-encumbered ground, Through his green world of beauty, ever free. Such was the scene—no white man’s chimney nigh, And joy sat, plumed, in the young warrior’s eye.
III. No white man’s axe his hunting grounds had marred, The primal grandeur of the solemn woods, When Summer all her golden gates unbarred, And hung voluptuous o’er the shouting floods,— Or when stern Winter gave the rich reward, All suited with his uncorrupted moods, For all was built, voiced, roofed with sun and cloud, By the Great Spirit unto whom he bowed.
IV. The grey of morn was edging into white, When down the rugged rock the Indian passed, Like a thin shadow. Soon the rosy light Lay on the maple leaf, the dew-drops cast A lustrous charm on many a mossy height, And squirrels broke out in chatter, as the blast Swayed the tall pine-tops where they leaped, and made Grand organ-music in the green-wood shade.