Waub Ojeeg’s Death Whisperings
I go to the land where our heroes are gone, are gone,
That land where our sages are gone;
And I go with bright tone, to join hearts who are one,
That drew the bold dart at my side, at my side,
That drew the bold dart at my side.
Those lands in the bright beamy west, the west,
Those lands in the bright beamy west,
As our fathers foretold, are the plenty crowned fold,
Where the world-weary warrior may rest, may rest,
Where the war-honored hero may rest.
My life has been given to war, to war,
My strength has been offered to war,
And the foes of my land, ne’er before me could stand,
But fled as base cowards in fear, in fear,
They fled like base cowards in fear.
My warfare in life it is done, it is done,
My warfare, my friends, it is done;
I go to that Spirit, whose form in the sky,
So oft we have seen in the cloud-garnished sun,
So oft in dread lightning espy.
My friends, when my spirit is fled, is fled,
My friends, when my spirit is fled,
Ah, put me not bound, in the dark and cold ground,
Where light shall no longer be shed, be shed,
Where daylight no more shall be shed.
But lay me up scaffolded high, all high,
Chiefs, lay me up scaffolded high,
Where my tribe shall still say, as they point to my clay,
He ne’er from the foe sought to fly, to fly,
He ne’er from the foe sought to fly.
And children, who play on the shore, the shore,
And children who play on the shore,
As the war-dance they beat, my name shall repeat,
And the fate of their chieftain deplore, deplore,
And the fate of their chieftain deplore.
TO THE MISCODEED.120
Thy petals, tipped with red, declare
The sanguinary rites of war;
But when I view thy base of white,
Thoughts of heaven’s purity invite.
Symbols at once that hearts like thee
Contain two powers, in which we see
A passion strong to war inclined,
And a soft, pure, and tender mind.
Earliest of buds when snows decay
From these wild northern fields away,
Thou comest as a herald dear,
To tell us that the spring is near;
And shall with sweets and flowers relume
Our hearts, for all the winter’s gloom.
Soon the opeechee121 comes to sing
The pleasures of an early spring;
Soon shall the swelling water’s roar
Tell us that winter is no more;
The water-fowl set up their cry,
Or hasten to more northern sky;
And on the sandy shore shall stray,
The plover, the twee-tweesh-ke-way.
Soon shall the budding trees expand,
And genial skies pervade the land;
The little garden hoes shall peck,
And female hands the moss beds deck;
The apple-tree refresh our sight,
With its fair blows of pink and white;
The cherry bloom, the strawberry run,
And joy fill all the new Seegwun.122