THE BLACKFEET

Where the snow-world of the mountains

Fronts the sea-like world of sward,

And encamped along the prairies

Tower the white peaks heavenward;

Where they stand by dawn rose-coloured

Or dim-silvered by the stars,

And behind their shadowed portals

Evening draws her lurid bars,

Lies a country whose sweet grasses

Richly clothe the rolling plain;

All its swelling upland pastures

Speak of Plenty's happy reign;

There the bison herds in autumn

Roamed wide sunlit solitudes,

Seamed with many an azure river

Bright in burnished poplar woods.

Night-dews pearled the painted hide-tents,

“Moyas” named, that on the mead

Sheltered dark-eyed women wearing

Braided hair and woven bead.

Never man had seen their lodges,

Never warrior crossed the slopes

Where they rode, and where they hunted

Imu bulls and antelopes.

Masterless, how swift their riding!

While the wild steeds onward flew,

From round breasts and arms unburdened

Freedom's winds their tresses blew.

Only when the purple shadows

Slowly veiled the darkening plain

Would they sorrow that the Sun-god

Dearer loved his Alp's domain.

Southward, nearer to the gorges

Whence the sudden warm winds blow,

Shaking all the pine's huge branches,

Melting all the fallen snow,

Dwelt the Séksika, the Blackfeet;

They whose ancestor, endued,

With the dark salve's magic fleetness,

First on foot the deer pursued.

Gallantly the Braves bore torture

While their Sun-dance fasts were held,

While the drums beat, and the virgins

Saw the pains by manhood quelled.

As each writhing form triumphant

Called on the Great Spirit's might,

On his son, whose voice in thunder

Summons airy hosts to fight.

“Star-Child,” praised as bearing all things,

Praised as Brave who never feared,

Young, but famed above his elders,

Chief to man and maid endeared,

Went with comrades, quiver-harnessed,

O'er the hills, and face to face,

Where the bright leaves trembled round them,

Found the fearless huntress race

Was it peace or was it warfare?

Starting back, their bows they drew,

But a mystic power compelled them,

And no word, no arrow flew.

Nearer to each other drawing,

Strength and beauty beckoned “Peace,”

Each the other envious eyeing,

Jealous lest their hunt should cease!

“They are strong; could not they aid us?”

Thought the maiden band amazed;

“Conquered, these could well obey us!”

Dreamed the warriors as they gazed.

Falsely answered cunning “Star-Child,”

Smiling as they slowly met,

While the women's frequent questions

Were to laughter's music set,

“Who is chief among you, tell us?”

“He is far! Is she your queen

With the shells and deer-teeth broidered,

Decked with sheen of gold between?”

“Yea; she slays the bear, the grizzly:

Light her empire on us lies;

With the love she rules her courser

Guides and guards us‘ Laughing Eyes’!”

Vaunted then the men their “Star-Child:”

“Peerless soldier, keen-eyed king!

From the girl he weds shall heroes

Worthy war-god's lineage spring.

Know ye not how old enchantment

Saw his storm-born sire appear,

Armed, upon a peak dark-lifted

O'er the snows and glaciers drear?

His the darts divine, whose breaking

Thrice hath some disaster sent,

Shafts that killed and then returning,

Kept his armoury unspent.”

“Give us of these arrows. Bring him!”

Cried the maidens. “Nay,” they said;

“Come with us and share our hunting

Ere the autumn leaves are shed.”

Answered they: “In painted lodges

Berries we have dried and meat;

Come again! e'er comes the winter,

Let us hear your horses’ feet.”

And they sprang into their saddles,

Swept, white-splashing, through a stream

Red and saffron hued, the pageant

Crossed the blue translucent gleam.

Then unwilling, as they vanished,

“Star-Child” slow to camp returned;

Told the council of the Blackfeet

All the marvels he had learned;

Dressed him in his chief's apparel,

Rode to where, within the glen,

Lay the trail that led him onward

To the town, unknown of men.

From each Moya thronged the dwellers:

“Hath the chief the arrows sent?”

“I am Chief; behold me; trust me.

Lead me to your ruler's tent.”

“He hath not the shafts enchanted;

Thus unarmed came never chief!”

Bent a thousand bows around him:

“Back or die, impostor, thief!”

Angry, yet afraid to anger,

Lest he lose those “Laughing-Eyes,”

He, obeying, vowed to conquer;

Scorning to make vain replies,

Went; and weary seemed the journey!

All along the yellow plain

Red as rose-leaves in the grasses

Flushed his dusky cheeks with pain.

Grave, in silent circles seated

‘ Neath their Moya's smoke-tanned cone,

Round the fire his chieftains heard him,

Holding each a pipe's red stone.

Pausing long, they gave their counsel,

Different from their wont; for here

All the young men spoke for kindness,

All the old men were severe.

But the Braves rode forth at morning,

Half the magic darts they bore;

Pledge so precious of their friendship

None had thought to give before!

To the huntress nation welcome,

Waking song in every tent,

Where the hours were passed in feasting

And the days to love were lent!

Thus the maidens were the victors,

For to them the warriors came:

“Laughing-Eyes” but loved the “Star-Child”

When his shafts her own became.

Ah! but where is man or woman

Who may boast of triumph long?

Nought abides, and mighty nations

Cannot ever more be strong.

So each huntress found a master,

Yielding to her heart's new birth,

And no more along the prairie

Beat her steed the sounding earth.

Yearly yet the Blackfeet women

Meet and dance and sing the day

When through love they won, and, winning,

Freedom passed with love away!