Down the broad Ha-Ha Wak-pa[BS]
          the band took their way to the Games at Keoza[8]
While the swift-footed hunters by land
          ran the shores for the elk and the bison. 
Like magas[BT] ride the birchen canoes
          on the breast of the dark, winding river,
By the willow-fringed island they cruise,
          by the grassy hills green to their summits;
By the lofty bluffs hooded with oaks
          that darken the deep with their shadows;
And bright in the sun gleam the strokes
          of the oars in the hands of the women. 
With the band went Winona. 
          The oar plied the maid with the skill of a hunter. 
They tarried a time on the shore of Remnica—­
          the Lake of the Mountains.[BU]
There the fleet hunters followed the deer,
          and the thorny pahin[BV] for the women
From the tees rose the smoke of good cheer,
          curling blue through the tops of the maples,
Near the foot of a cliff that arose,
          like the battle-scarred walls of a castle,
Up-towering, in rugged repose,
          to a dizzy height over the waters.

[BS] The Dakota name for the Mississippi, see note 76 in Appendix.

[BT] Wild Geese.

[BU] Lake Pepin, by Hennepin called Lake of Tears—­Called by the Dakotas Remnee-chah-Mday—­Lake of the Mountains.

[BV] Pah-hin—­the porcupine—­the quills of which are greatly prized for ornamental work.

But the man-wolf still followed his prey,
          and the step-mother ruled in the teepee;
Her will must Winona obey,
          by the custom and law of Dakotas. 
The gifts to the teepee were brought—­
          the blankets and beads of the White men,
And Winona, the orphaned, was bought
          by the crafty, relentless Tamdoka. 
In the Spring-time of life, in the flush
          of the gladsome mid-May days of Summer,
When the bobolink sang and the thrush,
          and the red robin chirped in the branches,
To the tent of the brave must she go;
          she must kindle the fire in his teepee;
She must sit in the lodge of her foe,
          as a slave at the feet of her master. 
Alas for her waiting! the wings
          of the East-wind have brought her no tidings;
On the meadow the meadow-lark sings,
          but sad is her song to Winona,
For the glad warbler’s melody brings
          but the memory of voices departed. 
The Day-Spirit walked in the west
          to his lodge in the land of the shadows;
His shining face gleamed on the crest
          of the oak-hooded hills and the mountains,
And the meadow-lark hied to her nest,
          and the mottled owl peeped from her cover. 
But hark! from the teepees a cry! 
          Hear the shouts of the hurrying warriors! 
Are the feet of the enemy nigh,—­
          of the crafty and cruel Ojibways? 
Nay; look!—­on the dizzy cliff high—­
          on the brink of the cliff stands Winona! 
Her sad face up-turned to the sky. 
          Hark!  I hear the wild wail of her death-song: