lankets and beads of the
White men,
And Winona, the orphaned, was bought by the crafty, relentless Tamdoka.
In the Spring-time of life, in the flush of the gladsome mid-May days
of Summer,
When the bobolink sang and the thrush, and the red robin chirped in
the branches,
To the tent of the brave must she go; she must kindle the fire in his
_teepee_;
She must sit in the lodge of her foe, as a slave at the feet of her
master.
Alas for her waiting! the wings of the East-wind have brought her no
tidings;
On the meadow the meadow-lark sings, but sad is her song to Winona,
For the glad warbler's melody brings but the memory of voices departed.
The Day-Spirit walked in the west to his lodge in the land of the shadows;
His shining face gleamed on the crest of the oak-hooded hills and the
mountains,
And the meadow-lark hied to her nest, and the mottled owl peeped from
her cover.
But hark! from the _teepees_ a cry! Hear the shouts of the hurrying
warriors!
Are the feet of the enemy nigh,--of the crafty and cruel Ojibways?
Nay; look!--on the dizzy cliff high--on the brink of the cliff stands
Winona!
Her sad face up-turned to the sky. Hark! I hear the wild wail of her
death-song:

"My Father's Spirit, look down, look down--
From your hunting grounds in the shining skies;
Behold, for the light of my heart is gone;
The light is gone and Winona dies.

"I looked to the East, but I saw no star;
The face of my White Chief was turned away.
I harked for his footsteps in vain; afar
His bark sailed over the Sunrise-sea.

"Long have I watched till my heart is cold;
In my breast it is heavy and cold as a stone.
No more shall Winona his face behold,
And the robin that sang in her heart is gone.

"Shall I sit at the feet of the treacherous brave?
On his hateful couch shall Winona lie?
Shall she kindle his fire like a coward slave?
No!--a warrior's daughter can bravely die.

"My Father's Spirit, look down, look down--
From your hunting-grounds in the shining skies;
Behold, for the light in my heart is gone;
The light is gone and Winona dies."

Swift the strong hunters climbed as she sang, and the foremost of all
was Tamdoka;
From crag to crag upward he sprang; like a panther he leaped to the
summit.
Too late!--on the brave as he crept turned the maid in her scorn and
defiance;
Then swift from the dizzy height leaped. Like a brant arrow-pierced in
mid-heaven,
Down whirling and fluttering she fel