The Feast of the Virgins and Other Poems.

by H. L. Gordon.

PREFACE

At odd hours during an active and busy life I have dallied with the Muses. I found in them, in earlier years, rest from toil and drudgery and, later, relief from physical suffering.

Broken by over-work and compelled to abandon the practice of my profession--the law, I wrote _Pauline_ after I had been given up to die by my physicians. It proved to be a better 'medicine' for me than all the quackeries of the quacks. It diverted my mind from myself and, perhaps, saved my life. When published, its reception by the best journals of this country and England was so flattering and, at the same time, the criticisms of some were so just, that I have been induced to carefully revise the poem and to publish my re-touched _Pauline_ in this volume. I hope and believe I have greatly improved it. Several of the minor poems have been published heretofore in journals and magazines; others of equal or greater age flap their wings herein for the first time; a few peeped from the sh.e.l.l but yesterday.

I am aware that this volume contains several poems that a certain cla.s.s of critics will condemn, but they are my "chicks" and I will gather them under my wings.

"None but an author knows an author's cares, Or Fancy's fondness for the child she bears."--_Cowper._

Much of my life has been spent in the Northwest--on the frontier of civilization, and I became personally acquainted with many of the chiefs and braves of the Dakota and Ojibway (Chippewa) Indians. I have written of them largely from my own personal knowledge, and endeavored, above all things, to be accurate, and to present them true to the life.

For several years I devoted my leisure hours to the study of the language, history, traditions, customs and superst.i.tions of the Dakotas.

These Indians are now commonly called the "_Sioux_"--a name given them by the early French traders and _voyageurs_. "Dakota" signifies _alliance_ or _confederation_. Many separate bands, all having a common origin and speaking a common tongue, were united under this name. See "_Tah-Koo Wah-Kan,_" or "_The Gospel Among the Dakotas,_" by Stephen R.

Riggs, pp. 1 to 6 inc.

They were but yesterday the occupants and owners of the fair forests and fertile prairies of Minnesota--a brave, hospitable and generous people--barbarians, indeed, but n.o.ble in their barbarism. They may be fitly called the Iroquois of the West. In form and features, in language and traditions, they are distinct from all other Indian tribes. When first visited by white men, and for many years afterwards, the Falls of St. Anthony (by them called the _Ha Ha_) was the center of their country. They cultivated corn and tobacco, and hunted the elk, the beaver and the bison. They were open-hearted, truthful and brave. In their wars with other tribes they seldom slew women or children, and rarely sacrificed the lives of their prisoners.

For many years their chiefs and head men successfully resisted the attempts to introduce spirituous liquors among them. More than a century ago an English trader was killed at Mendota, near the present city of St. Paul, because he persisted, after repeated warnings by the chiefs, in dealing out _mini wakan_ (Devil-water) to the Dakota braves.

With open arms and generous hospitality they welcomed the first white men to their land, and were ever faithful in their friendship, till years of wrong and robbery, and want and insult, drove them to desperation and to war. They were barbarians, and their warfare was barbarous, but not more barbarous than the warfare of our Saxon, Celtic and Norman ancestors. They were ignorant and superst.i.tious. Their condition closely resembled the condition of our British forefathers at the beginning of the Christian era. Macaulay says of Britain: "Her inhabitants, when first they became known to the Tyrian mariners, were little superior to the natives of the Sandwich Islands." And again: "While the German princes who reigned at Paris, Toledo, Aries and Ravenna listened with reverence to the instructions of bishops, adored the relics of martyrs, and took part eagerly in disputes touching the Nicene theology, the rulers of Wess.e.x and Mercia were still performing savage rites in the temples of Thor and Woden."

The days of the Dakotas are done. The degenerate remnants of that once powerful and warlike people still linger around the forts and agencies of the Northwest, or chase the caribou and the elk on the banks of the Saskatchewan, but the Dakotas of old are no more. The brilliant defeat of Custer, by Sitting Bull and his braves, was their last grand rally against the resistless march of the sons of the Saxons. The plow-shares of a superior race are fast leveling the sacred mounds of their dead.

But yesterday, the sh.o.r.es of our lakes and our rivers were dotted with their _teepees,_ their light canoes glided over our waters, and their hunters chased the deer and the buffalo on the sites of our cities.

To-day, they are not. Let us do justice to their memory, for there was much that was n.o.ble in their natures.

In the Dakota Legends, I have endeavored to faithfully present many of the customs and superst.i.tions, and some of the traditions, of that people. I have taken very little 'poetic license' with their traditions; none, whatever, with their customs and superst.i.tions. In my studies for these Legends I was greatly aided by the Rev. S.R. Riggs, author of the _"Grammar and Dictionary of the Dakota Language" "Tah-Koo Wah-Kan,"_ &c., and for many years a missionary among the Dakotas. He patiently answered my numerous inquiries and gave me valuable information. I am also indebted to the late Gen. H.H. Sibley, one of the earliest American traders among them, and to Rev. S.W. Pond, of Shakopee, one of the first Protestant missionaries to these people, and himself the author of poetical versions of some of their princ.i.p.al legends; to Mrs.

Eastman's _"Dacotah,"_ and last, but not least, to the Rev. E.D. Neill, whose admirable _"History of Minnesota"_ so fully and faithfully presents almost all that is known of the history, traditions, customs, manners and superst.i.tions of the Dakotas.

In _Winona_ I have "tried my hand" on a new hexameter verse. With what success, I leave to those who are better able to judge than I. If I have failed, I have but added another failure to the numerous attempts to naturalize hexameter verse in the English language.

It will be observed that I have slightly changed the length and the rhythm of the old hexameter line; but it is still hexameter, and, I think, improved.

I have not written for profit nor published for fame. Fame is a coy G.o.ddess that rarely bestows her favors on him who seeks her--a phantom that many pursue and but few overtake.

She delights to hover for a time, like a ghost, over the graves of dead men who know not and care not: to the living she is a veritable _Ignis Fatuus_. But every man owes something to his fellowmen, and I owe much.

If my friends find half the pleasure in reading these poems that I have found in writing them, I shall have paid my debt and achieved success.

H.L. GORDON.

Minneapolis, November 1, 1891.

PRELUDE

THE MISSISSIPPI

The numerals refer to _Notes_ in appendix.

Onward rolls the Royal River, proudly sweeping to the sea, Dark and deep and grand, forever wrapt in myth and mystery.

Lo he laughs along the highlands, leaping o'er the granite walls; Lo he sleeps among the islands, where the loon her lover calls.

Still like some huge monster winding downward through the prairied plains, Seeking rest but never finding, till the tropic gulf he gains.

In his mighty arms he claspeth now an empire broad and grand; In his left hand lo he graspeth leagues of fen and forest land; In his right the mighty mountains, h.o.a.ry with eternal snow, Where a thousand foaming fountains singing seek the plains below.

Fields of corn and feet of cities lo the mighty river laves, Where the Saxon sings his ditties o'er the swarthy warriors' graves.

Aye, before the birth of Moses--ere the Pyramids were piled-- All his banks were red with roses from the sea to nor'lands wild, And from forest, fen and meadows, in the deserts of the north, Elk and bison stalked like shadows, and the tawny tribes came forth; Deeds of death and deeds of daring on his leafy banks were done, Women loved and men went warring, ere the siege of Troy begun.

Where his foaming waters thundered, roaring o'er the rocky walls, Dusky hunters sat and wondered, listening to the spirits' calls.

"_Ha-ha!_"[76] cried the warrior greeting from afar the cataract's roar; "_Ha-ha!_" rolled the answer beating down the rock-ribbed leagues of sh.o.r.e.

Now, alas, the bow and quiver and the dusky braves have fled, And the sullen, shackled river drives the droning mills instead.

Where the war-whoop rose, and after women wailed their warriors slain, List the Saxon's silvery laughter, and his humming hives of gain.

Swiftly sped the tawny runner o'er the pathless prairies then, Now the iron-reindeer sooner carries weal or woe to men.

On thy bosom, Royal River, silent sped the birch canoe Bearing brave with bow and quiver on his way to war or woo; Now with flaunting flags and streamers--mighty monsters of the deep-- Lo the puffing, panting steamers through thy foaming waters sweep; And behold the grain-fields golden, where the bison grazed of eld; See the fanes of forests olden by the ruthless Saxon felled.

Plumed pines that spread their shadows ere Columbus spread his sails, Firs that fringed the mossy meadows ere the Mayflower braved the gales, Iron oaks that nourished bruin while the Vikings roamed the main, Crashing fall in broken ruin for the greedy marts of gain.

Still forever and forever rolls the restless river on, Slumbering oft but ceasing never while the circling centuries run.

In his palm the lakelet lingers, in his hair the brooklets hide, Grasped within his thousand fingers lies a continent fair and wide-- Yea, a mighty empire swarming with its millions like the bees, Delving, drudging, striving, storming, all their lives, for golden ease.

Still, methinks, the dusky shadows of the days that are no more, Stalk around the lakes and meadows, haunting oft the wonted sh.o.r.e: Hunters from the land of spirits seek the bison and the deer Where the Saxon now inherits golden field and silver mere; And beside the mound where buried lies the dark-eyed maid he loves, Some tall warrior, wan and wearied, in the misty moonlight moves.

See--he stands erect and lingers--stoic still, but loth to go-- Clutching in his tawny fingers feathered shaft and polished bow.

Never wail or moan he utters and no tear is on his face, But a warrior's curse he mutters on the crafty Saxon race.

O thou dark, mysterious River, speak and tell thy tales to me; Seal not up thy lips forever--veiled in mist and mystery.

I will sit and lowly listen at the phantom-haunted falls Where thy waters foam and glisten o'er the rugged, rocky walls, Till some spirit of the olden, mystic, weird, romantic days Shall emerge and pour her golden tales and legends through my lays.

Then again the elk and bison on thy gra.s.sy banks shall feed, And along the low horizon shall the plumed hunter speed; Then again on lake and river shall the silent birch canoe Bear the brave with bow and quiver on his way to war or woo: Then the beaver on the meadow shall rebuild his broken wall, And the wolf shall chase his shadow and his mate the panther call.

From the prairies and the regions where the pine-plumed forest grows Shall arise the tawny legions with their lances and their bows; And again the cries of battle shall resound along the plain, Bows shall tw.a.n.g and quivers rattle, women wail their warriors slain; And by lodge-fire lowly burning shall the mother from afar List her warrior's steps returning from the daring deeds of war.

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE GAME OF BALL]

THE FEAST OF THE VIRGINS[1]

A LEGEND OF THE DAKOTAS

In p.r.o.nouncing Dakota words give "a" the sound of "ah",--"e" the sound of "a",--"i" the sound of "e" and "u" the sound of "oo;" sound "ee" as in English. The numerals refer to _Notes_ in appendix.

THE GAME OF BALL[2]