His big canoe shrunk from the angry flood,
And death was on the barren strand he trod.
XVIII.
“Brother, attend! I gave the infant food;
My lodge was open and my fire was warm;
He gathered strength, and felt a richer blood
Renew the vigor of his wasted arm;
He grew—waxed strong—the trees began to bud;
He asked for lands a little town to form;