Then he summoned all the people, Called the old men and the young men, Bade the squaws to come and listen, Showed the papoose to the women. They gazed on its tender whiteness, Stroked the mother's flaxen tresses; "'Tis a snow-papoose" they whispered, "It will melt when comes the summer."
Man-te-o said to the warriors: "Ye all know these Pale-Face people Whom Wan-ches-e sought to murder, They have often made us welcome. Brave their hearts, but few are living, If left friendless these will perish; We have store of corn and venison, They are hungry, let us feed them; They have lightning for their arrows, Let them teach us how to shoot it. They with us shall search the forest, And our game shall be abundant; Let them teach us their strange wisdom And become with us one people."
And the old men, grave in counsel, And the young men, mute with deference, While the uppowoc[U] was burning, Pondered on his words thus spoken, And to Man-te-o gave answer: "All your words are full of wisdom; We will share with them our venison, They shall be as our own people."
From the isle of Ro-a-no-ak Thus the Pale-Face fled for succor, Thus in Cro-a-to-an's fair borders Found a home with friendly Red Men. Nevermore to see white faces, Nevermore to see their home-land, Yet to all the future ages Sending proof of honest daring; Forging thus a link of effort In the chain of human progress.
Nature feels no throb of pity, Makes no pause for human heartbreak; Though with agony we quiver, She gives forth no sign of feeling. Waxed and waned the moon, in season, Ebbed and flowed the tides obedient; Summers filled the land with plenty, Winters chilled the summers' ardor. No winged ships gleamed in the offing; No Pale-Faces sought their kindred; In the Land-of-Wind-and-Water Roamed the Red Man unmolested.
While the babe of Ro-a-no-ak Grew in strength and wondrous beauty; Like a flower of the wildwood, Bloomed beside the Indian maidens. And Wi-no-na Skâ[V] they called her, She of all the maidens fairest. In the tangles of her tresses Sunbeams lingered, pale and yellow; In her eyes the limpid blueness Of the noonday sky was mirrored. And the squaws of darksome features Smiled upon her fair young beauty; Felt their woman hearts within them Warming to the Pale-Face maiden. And the braves, who scorned all weakness, Listened to her artless prattle, While their savage natures softened, Of the change themselves unconscious.
