  Once, when Death, the mighty hunter, Bent his bow and sent an arrow Through the shadows of the forest, Harming not the Bear or Panther, Harming not the Owl or Raven, In the bosom of Oweena, Fairest of the Indian maidens, Was the fatal arrow hidden. On the lodge of Massa-wam-sett Fell a deep and dreadful shadow; He, the wise and warlike Sachem, Mourned in silence for Oweena; But the mother, Nah-me-o-ka, Like a tall pine in the tempest, Tossed her arms in wildest anguish, Pouring forth her lamentation: “Neen wo-ma-su! Neen wo-ma-su! O my darling! my Oweena! Mat-ta-neen won-ka-met na-men— I shall never see thee more! “Ho-bo-mo-co, evil Spirit, Hiding darkly in the forest, Making shadow in the sunshine, You have stolen her away. “She was like the flowers in spring time, She was like the singing waters, She was like the summer sunshine, Neen wo-ma-su! She is dead! “Hear me! Hear me, O Great Spirit! I will bring thee Bear and Bison, I will bring thee Beads and Wampum; Wilt thou give her back to me? “Neen wo-ma-su! Neen wo-ma-su! O my darling! My Oweena! Mat-ta-neen won-ka-met na-men, I shall never see thee more! Ceaseless was her plaintive wailing, Even when the fair Oweena Slept beneath the pine trees’ shadow, In the green and silent forest, Where the birds sang in the branches, Where the roses of the summer, And the vines, with slender fingers, Clasped their loving hands above her. From the lodge of Massa-wam-sett, While the brave old chieftain slumbered, In the silence of the midnight, To the grave stole Nah-me-o-ka, Pouring forth her lamentations: “Neen wo-ma-su! Neen wo-ma-su! Mat-ta-neen won-ka-met na-men, I shall never see thee more!” Once, the tempest, on its war-path, Painted all the sky with blackness, Sped the arrows of the lightning, And the war-whoop of the thunder, Made the mighty forest tremble. But it moved not Nah-me-o-ka, Only moaning, “Neen wo-ma-su! I shall never see thee more! All the forest leaves were weeping, And the black wings of the darkness, Brooding over Nah-me-o-ka, Filled her with a chilling shudder: And the thunder seemed to mutter With a cruel exultation, “You shall never see her more.” But thereafter came a whisper— “I am with you, O my mother! For I cannot turn my footsteps To the land of the Great Spirit, While I hear your mournful wailing, Calling, calling me again. “In the hunting-grounds beyond me There are sunshine, peace and plenty, But I wander, sad and lonely, In the land of death and darkness, Listening only to your cry. “Let me go to the Great Spirit, To the lodge of peace and plenty, To the land of summer sunshine, That with life and strength and gladness, I may meet you yet again. Then the soft hand of Oweena Gently lifted Nah-me-o-ka, Who with wondering eyes beheld her, Like a light amid the darkness. And Oweena safely led her Through the tempest and the midnight, To the lodge of Massa-wam-sett, Kissed her tenderly—and vanished. From that time did Nah-me-o-ka Dry her tears, and cease her moaning, For she said, “I will not keep her From the land of summer sunshine, From the home of peace and plenty, From the lodge of the Great Spirit. Neen wo-ma-su! Neen wo-ma-su! In the land of the Hereafter I shall meet her yet again.” |
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