Song Op the Wolf-Brother
Nësia, my elder brother,
Bones have been my forest meal,
Shared with wolves the long, long winter,
And their nature now I feel.
Nësia, my elder brother,
Now my fate is near its close;
Soon my state shall cease to press me,
Soon shall cease my day of woes.
Left by friends I loved the dearest,
All who knew and loved me most;
Woes the darkest and severest,
Bide me on this barren coast.
Pity! ah, that manly feeling,
Fled from hearts where once it grew,
Now in wolfish forms revealing,
Glows more warmly than in you.
Stony hearts! that saw me languish,
Deaf to all a father said,
Deaf to all a mother’s anguish,
All a brother’s feelings fled.
Ah, ye wolves, in all your ranging,
I have found you kind and true;
More than man—and now I’m changing,
And will soon be one of you.
Lodge of kindred once respected,
Now my heart abhors your plan;
Hated, shunned, disowned, neglected,
Wolves are truer far than man.
And like them, I’ll be a rover,
With an honesty of bite
That feigns not to be a lover,
When the heart o’erflows with spite.
Go, ye traitors, to my lodge-fire;
Go, ye serpents, swift to flee,
War with kinds that have your natures,
I am disenthrall’d and free.
A MOTHER’S CHANT TO HER SICK INFANT.
Abbinochi,123 baby dear,
Leave me not—ah, leave me not;
I have nursed with love sincere,
Nursed thee in my forest cot—
Tied thee in thy cradle trim
Kind adjusting every limb;
With the fairest beads and bands
Deck’d thy cradle with my hands,
And with sweetest corn panäd
From my little kettle fed,
Oft with miscodeed124 roots shred,
Fed thee in thy baby bed.
Abbinochi, droop not so,
Leave me not—away to go
To strange lands—thy little feet
Are not grown the path to greet
Or find out, with none to show
Where the flowers of grave-land grow.
Stay, my dear one, stay till grown,
I will lead thee to that zone
Where the stars like silver shine,
And the scenes are all divine,
And the happy, happy stray,
And, like Abbinochi, play.