The Legends of the Iroquois

by Unknown

"Oniata is here!" she cried, as she looked around at the dark faces before her, with eyes like those of the hunted fawn. "Oniata is here to say that she has not asked for the smiles of the young braves. They came around her wigwam and drove away the dream-god with their cries and love-songs; but she covered her ears with the skins of the beaver and would not listen to them. When Oniata went forth to the forest they appeared before her like the thunder clouds, and she went back to her wigwam and could not look at her father, the sun. The warriors came to the lodge of the white lily and with shouts and cries told the Oniata that their wives and children should be the white lily's slaves if she would look out of her lodge upon them. But the Oniata called the women of her wigwam about her and they laughed in the faces of the warriors. Oniata loves her sisters, but they are angry at the white lily and ask that she be sent away to the long home where she shall be seen no more by the braves and warriors. She will go from the home of the red men and her dark sisters—far away beyond the mountains and the great lakes—and the braves will return to life for the dark maidens and seek them with love-songs in the forests, while the warriors will once more go to their wigwams where their wives and papooses await them. But her people will remember the Oniata, for she will kiss the flowers in the forests as she goes.

"My sisters, the Oniata, daughter of the sun and the great chief Tiogaughwa, has spoken."

She waved her hand, and the circle of listening men and women parted that she might walk through. The chief, Torwauquanda, started forward to follow her, but the dark princess, Waunopeta, stood in his pathway, and he knew by the looks of the menacing faces about him that the white lily would go alone.

Tiogaughwa rose as his daughter moved rapidly away, and said: "Oniata has spoken well. She will go in peace. The scalp-lock of the warrior that follows her will hang in Tiogaughwa's wigwam."

The old chief turned and folded his arms over his breast, watching with pathetic love the fast disappearing form of his daughter.

Out into the forest went the Oniata—the loved of the sunshine, the dream of the Indian—and the solemn council sat in silence as the beautiful vision faded forever from their view.

Far away from her people she wandered, never stopping to look back toward the home she had loved. The sun warmed her pathway for many days, and at night the sister of the sun smiled through the branches of the trees and lighted the forest so the Oniata would not miss her lodge-fire as she slept. When she rested beside the clear streams she caught to her bosom the blossoms that covered the banks and breathed into their faces the love she had borne for her dark sisters and her home. The fragrance of her love filled their hearts and from that time they have freely given their love to others, as Oniata bade them when she pressed them to her lips and kissed them in her loneliness. When the clouds came and the rain fell, Oniata was sheltered by the thick branches of the trees, and when the rain had ceased she pulled the branches down, and pressing her cheeks against them, thanked them for their kindness. The trees learned gentleness from the maiden, and their blossoms have ever since spread their grateful perfume on the air.

Many moons passed. The dark maidens were again wooed by the young braves, and the wives of the warriors were happy in the return of their husbands. The winter came and cast its white cloud over the land, and the frosts locked the rivers in prison houses of ice. But Oniata came not to the home of her people.

The great Tiogaughwa mourned his daughter in his lonely wigwam, and his heart sang her death-song as he sat before the fire-place, in which no fire was lighted, and bowed his head in mournful silence.