Trust is woman's strongest bulwark,
All true manhood yields unto it. As her sad eyes turned upon him
Man-te-o was moved with pity
For the brave and tender woman,
Friendless in the land without him.
On the brow of Pale-Face baby
First he made the Holy Cross-Sign;
Then upon the sad-eyed mother
Traced the sign her people taught him;
Then again the sacred symbol
Outlined on his own dark forehead;
And with open hand uplifted
Sealed his promise of protection;
Linking thus his pledge of safety
With her faith in Unseen Power.
Mute with grief, she trusted in him;
In his boat they crossed the water,
While the night fell like a mantle
Spread in mercy to help save them.
When in Cro-a-to-an they landed,
There they found the few survivors
Of that day of doom to many,
Glad once more to greet each other.
Man-te-o within his wigwam From the cold wind gave them shelter,
Shared with them his furry bear-skins,
Made them warm, and warmth gave courage
To meet life's relentless duties.
Then he summoned all the people,
Called the old men and the young men,
Bade the squaws to come and listen,
Showed the papoose to the women.
They gazed on its tender whiteness,
Stroked the mother's flaxen tresses;
"'Tis a snow-papoose" they whispered,
"It will melt when comes the summer."
Man-te-o said to the warriors:
"Ye all know these Pale-Face people
Whom Wan-ches-e sought to murder,
They have often made us welcome.
Brave their hearts, but few are living,
If left friendless these will perish;
We have store of corn and venison,
They are hungry, let us feed them;
They have lightning for their arrows,
Let them teach us how to shoot it.
They with us shall search the forest,
And our game shall be abundant; Let them teach us their strange wisdom
And become with us one people."
And the old men, grave in counsel,
And the young men, mute with deference,
While the uppowoc[U] was burning,
Pondered on his words thus spoken,
And to Man-te-o gave answer:
"All your words are full of wisdom;
We will share with them our venison,
They shall be as our own people."
From the isle of Ro-a-no-ak
Thus the Pale-Face fled for succor,
Thus in Cro-a-to-an's fair borders
Found a home with friendly Red Men.
Nevermore to see white faces,
Nevermore to see their home-land,
Yet to all the future ages
Sending proof of honest daring;
Forging thus a link of effort
In the chain of human progress.
