And all the tepees and warm wigwams
Were blest with comfort and good cheer;
Stored with fish and game in plenty,
The winter had for them no fear.
Fine robes and mantles of warm bearskin,
Wolf and lynx and the festive coon,
Otter, mink, the fox and sly beaver,
As soft and warm as summer’s noon.
This great wide reach of lake and forest,
River and stream and flowing rill,
Rendered up their richest fulness
To the hunter’s unerring skill.
Laws and customs they established
In some far-off, unknown age—
Who shall penetrate the mystery
That enshrouds their history’s page?
And those barbaric laws and customs
Were respected and obeyed;
Sure death it was to the transgressor
Who the nation’s cause betrayed.
And they believed in the Great Spirit;
Manitou they worshipped there;
A future state of peace and comfort,
The happy hunting-grounds so fair.
Within those palisaded hamlets
Strange rites and festivals were seen;
The weird, blood-curdling pagan war-dance,
A frightful and barbaric scene.
And the great council of the nation,
Many grand war chiefs, stern and brave,
Deliberated all great questions,
And cunningly decision gave.
And those red children of the forest
Had their queer games, their social hour,
A relaxation from all turmoil,
A rest from war’s relentless power.
Then the great chiefs and older warriors
Smoked in peace, and stories told
Of their strange lives and great adventures,
Heroic deeds and ventures bold.
And the younger braves and maidens
Enacted what to youth belongs,
And told their tales of love and rapture,
Danced and sang their tribal songs.
Wandering by the shore or river,
Life to them was fair and sweet,
Many a dusky Indian beauty
Had her lover at her feet.
Oft in their light canoes they glided
O’er the waters’ sparkling blue,
Lingering in the dreamy sunset
’Neath fading skies of sapphire hue.
Ah! those heathen souls were happy,
Communing there with nature’s heart;
Beneath the wide-domed arch of heaven
They had of life a tender part.
And the lithe children of the nation
Played in wild, ecstatic glee,
Nimble in untrammelled nature,
As squirrel leaping from tree to tree.
And marriages were celebrated,
Funeral rites were quaint and queer;
Believing Manitou was near them
The mourner’s troubled heart to cheer.
Like us they had their hopes and passions,
Ambition stirred their pagan souls;
Strange fear and awe and superstition
An almighty hand controls.
And in the wind’s low sob and whisper,
The waves that murmur on the shore,
The phantom voices of the forest,
And in the storm king’s mighty roar.