My love is like the shining sun
Upon the pure snow of the mount—
It would blush upon thy cheek, but
It would not destroy thee. Hear me,
Gentle one; fear me not. Thou didst
Not love the Chief Guteba. Thy
Lips have confessed it to me, and
My lance drank his heart dry. Now, thou
Sleepest upon thy mother's tomb."
As like the lightning of the storm
Forensic message on the walls
Of heaven writes, to fill the earth
With pause of tragic dread, so did
Guteba's name, on alien tongue
For one brief moment holden stay
The stealthy steps that stole about
The Sioux and closed escaping path
Around him. And as thunder lends
Unto the tempest's roar a voice
More awful because of that but
Momentary respite, so with
The next succeeding breath, the air
Was curdled with the Chippeway cry
Of vengeance. Before the Sioux could
Change within his grasp the place
Of joyous flute for battle-ax
He was surrounded by them and made
Their royal captive.
In thongs bound
Down and tortured, Janishkisgan
Next beheld him. But love, like theirs, Which hath preserved itself through test
In purity, knows not despair.
Nor can it hush itself to ease
If it can find the chance to act
In the beloved one's behalf.
So while the maid, well-honored guard
Of sacred fires, passed freely round,
From friend, to friend, with greetings kind,
In measure full returned, her thoughts
Were busy with the night.
When all
Was still beneath the stars, she left
Her blanket couch, high-heaped on leaves,
And let the prisoner free. Under
An old oak tree they said farewell,
Not without Minnepazuka's
Protestations, who plead as thus:
"Oh, come with me, and be my bride;
My home is on the prairies wide,
Where West sweeps westward, in its pride,
To mount the heights of mountain side;
Where yellow glows the sunflower's gold,
And earth rolls rich in mellow mold;
Where cactus bloom and roses blush,
And rivers sweep through greensward lush;
Where deer and antelope and bear
Abound as free as sunlit air;
Where buffalo and cayote dwell
And perch and trout the clear brook swell.
Oh, come; oh, come, and live with me—
To serve thee I shall happy be. I'll pluck thee bed of down of swan;
Thy cares make light as foot of fawn;
I'll build canoe of birch-wood bark
To cradle thee, my Singing Lark.
I'll rob the white bear for thy frock;
I'll bring thee paint from red of rock;
I'll note the honey-bee in its flight—
Gather its sweets by bright moonlight.
I'll coax the fishes from the wave;
Thy slightest wish shall bind me slave;
My arrow true its bow will fly
To draw abundance from the sky;
The heavens shall tremble at my voice
And thy dear heart rejoice, rejoice.
Oh, fly with me, these arms to bless;
Rest, rest, my little love, on my breast."
"It cannot be, my beaming-eyed,
Until our people are allied.
My father's step is growing slow,
No other child hath he. The snow
Upon his head would pile did I
But go with thee. I beg thee fly."
"No claim so binding is as love—
Oh, come, oh, come, my nestling dove—
Thy hands have set me free. And all
The blame of my escape will fall
On thee. Thy father will disown
Thee; the children cruel will stone
Thee, and——"