BY E.F. HOFFMAN.
| I looked across the water, |
| I bent o'er it and listened, |
| I thought it was my lover, |
| My true lover's paddle glistened. |
| Joyous thus his light canoe would the silver ripples wake.— |
| But no!—it is the Loon alone—the loon upon the lake. |
Ah me! it is the loon alone—the loon upon the lake.
|
| I see the fallen maple |
| Where he stood, his red scarf waving, |
| Though waters nearly bury |
| Boughs they then were newly laving. |
| I hear his last farewell, as it echoed from the brake.— |
| But no, it is the loon alone—the loon upon the lake, |
| Ah me! it is the loon alone—the loon upon the lake. |
TO A BIRD, SEEN UNDER MY WINDOW IN THE GARDEN.
By the late Mrs. H.R. Schoolcraft, who was a grand daughter of the war chief Wabojeeg.
Sweet little bird, thy notes prolong,
And ease my lonely pensive hours;
I love to list thy cheerful song,
And hear thee chirp beneath the flowers.
The time allowed for pleasures sweet,
To thee is short as it is bright,
Then sing! rejoice! before it fleet,
And cheer me ere you take your flight.
ODJIBWA SONG.
The following song, taken from the oral traditions of the north, is connected with a historical incident, of note, in the Indian wars of Canada. In 1759, great exertions were made by the French Indian department, under Gen. Montcalm, to bring a body of Indians into the valley of the lower St. Lawrence, and invitations, for this purpose reached the utmost shores of Lake Superior. In one of the canoes from that quarter, which was left on their way down, at the lake of Two Mountains, near the mouth of the Utawas, while the warriors proceeded farther, was a Chippewa girl called Paig-wain-e-osh-e, or the White Eagle, driven by the wind. While the party awaited there, the result of events at Quebec, she formed an attachment for a young Algonquin belonging to the French mission of the Two Mountains. This attachment was mutual, and gave origin to the song, of which the original words, with a literal prose translation, are subjoined:
| I. |
| Ia indenaindum |
| Ia indenaindum |
| Ma kow we yah |
| Nin denaindum we. |
Ah me! when I think of him—when I think of him—my sweetheart, my Algonquin.
| II. |
| Pah bo je aun |
| Ne be nau be koning |
| Wabi megwissun |
| Nene mooshain we |
| Odishquagumee. |
As I embarked to return, he put the white wampum around my neck—a pledge of truth, my sweetheart, my Algonquin.
| III. |
| Keguh wejewin |
| Ain dah nuk ke yun |
| Ningee egobun |
| Nene mooshain we |
| Odishquagumee. |
I shall go with you, he said, to your native country—I shall go with you, my sweetheart—my Algonquin.
| IV. |
| Nia! nin de nah dush |
| Wassahwud gushuh |
| Aindahnuk ke yaun |
| Ke yau ninemooshai wee |
| Odishquagumee. |
Alas! I replied—my native country is far, far away—my sweetheart; my Algonquin.
| V. |
| Kai aubik oween |
| Ain aube aunin |
| Ke we naubee |
| Ne ne mooshai we |
| Odishquagumee. |
When I looked back again—where we parted, he was still looking after me, my sweetheart; my Algonquin.
| VI. |
| Apee nay we ne bow |
| Unishe bun |
| Aungwash agushing |
| Ne ne mooshai we |
| Odishquagumee. |
He was still standing on a fallen tree—that had fallen into the water, my sweetheart; my Algonquin.
| VII. |
| Nia! indenaindum |
| Nia! in denaindum |
| Ma kow we yuh |
| Nin de nain dum we |
| Odishquagumee. |
Alas! when I think of him—when I think of him—It is when I think of him; my Algonquin.
Eloquence on the part of the speakers, is not so much the result of superior force of thought, as of the strong and clear positions of right, in which they have been placed by circumstances. It is the force of truth, by which we are charmed.
An Indian war song, sung in public, by the assembled warriors on the outbreak of hostilities, is a declaration of war.
NIAGARA, AN ALLEGORY.
An old grey man on a mountain lived,
He had daughters four and one,
And a tall bright lodge of the betula bark
That glittered in the sun.
He lived on the very highest top,
For he was a hunter free,
Where he could spy on the clearest day,
Gleams of the distant sea.
Come out—come out! cried the youngest one,
Let us off to look at the sea,
And out they ran in their gayest robes,
And skipped and ran with glee.
Come Su,[54] come Mi,[55] come Hu,[56] come Sa,[57]
Cried laughing little Er,[58]
Let us go to yonder broad blue deep,
Where the breakers foam and roar.
And on they scampered by valley and wood,
By earth and air and sky,
Till they came to a steep where the bare rocks stood,
In a precipice mountain high.
Inya![59] cried Er, here's a dreadful leap,
But we are gone so far,
That if we flinch and return in fear,
Nos,[60] he will cry ha! ha!
Now each was clad in a vesture light,
That floated far behind,
With sandals of frozen water drops,
And wings of painted wind.
And down they plunged with a merry skip,
Like birds that skim the plain;
And hey! they cried, let us up and try
And down the steep again.
And up and down the daughters skipped,
Like girls on a holiday,
And laughed outright, at the sport and foam
They called Niagara.
If ye would see a sight so rare,
Where nature's in her glee,
Go, view the spot in the wide wild west,
The land of the brave and free.
But mark—their shapes are only seen
In fancy's deepest play,
But she plainly shews their wings and feet
In the dancing sunny spray.
