"Now our hearts are heavy, little sister. The gates of morning are still locked; the forest is still; everywhere there is thick darkness.
"Thiohero, listen!
"Now we Oneidas are depressed in our minds. You were a prophetess. You foretold events. You were a warrior. We were your clansmen of the Little Red Foot. You were a sorceress. Empty moccasins danced when you touched the witch-drum. Now, in white plumes, you have mounted to the stars like morning mist.
"Oyaneh! Continue to listen.
"Our lodge is empty without you. Our fire is lonely without you. Our hearts are desolate, O Thiohero Oyaneh!
"Little Sister, continue to listen!
"We have heard your voice at this hour coming to us through the Wood of Brakabeen. It comes in darkness like light when the gates of morning open.
"Thiohero Oyaneh, virgin warrior of the People of the Rock, we are come to the Wood of Brakabeen to greet and thank you.
"We give you gratitude and love. You were a warrior and wore the Little Red Foot. You struck your enemies where you found them. They are dead and without scalps, your enemies. The Canienga howl. Your war-axe sticks in their heads. The Hessians are swine. Your scarlet arrows turn them into porcupines. The green-coats flee and your bullets burn their bowels.
"O my little sister, listen now!