Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, CANTO 27; WA-BE-NO-KA, by LEVI BISHOP


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

CANTO 27; WA-BE-NO-KA, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: A night upon the battle field
Last Line: And freely sheds her grateful tears.
Subject(s): Iroquois Indians; Native Americans; Night; Indians Of America; American Indians; Indians Of South America; Bedtime


I.

A NIGHT upon the battle field,
Among the dying and the slain,
Will oft its frightful visions yield --
The horrid strife renew again.
The soul, in raging fury tost,
May every nerve to action string;
May fear the doubtful struggle lost;
Unconscious for the foeman spring.
How many visions, dark and dread,
Upon that bloody, frightful plain,
Again, the worthy foemen led,
To strike, among the ghastly slain!
How many jeebi 'round the nest
Of pappose, in the cabin home,
Through wakeful or unquiet rest,
In spectral train were seen to roam!

II.

Brave Wa-be-no-ka, on his mat,
Of public danger thoughtful still,
In deep reflection calmly sat,
Beside his anxious Whippoorwill.

WA-BE-NO-KA.

Oh that I knew if Iroquois,
Were weary of this dreadful war!
Oh that their losses might induce,
A swift retreat or friendly truce!
Or that the blows he got to-day,
Might hold the mighty foe at bay,
Till other allies, far and near,
Could join us in the struggle here.

WHIPPOORWILL.

This day, this dreadful day is won;
And yet before the setting sun
To-morrow, terror-dealing foe,
May hurl a last -- a fatal blow.
The night is foggy. I will ply
The office of the artful spy; --
With cautious step his camp assail,
To see what counsels there prevail:
To see if, ere the sun arise,
He plans a darksome enterprise; --
To see if, on the coming day,
He flies to home or battle fray.

WA-BE-NO-KA.

Na, na; here rest till morn return;
'Tis meet that I the danger spurn.
I know each path of tangled ground,
About, beyond the ancient mound.
I know each tree and bush to shun;
And if discovered, swift can run,
Thro' covert wood to sure retreat;
I'll creep along in silent ken,
I'll probe the very lion's den,
And learn his purpose in defeat.

III.

To be prepared for any sudden strife,
The hero took his hatchet and his knife.
He silent issued from the cabin shade,
And for the gloomy forest nimbly made.
The fog was dense; the darkness was profound:
A stench of blood arose from reeking ground:
And none but keenest, piercing, practiced eye,
Could any object, path or wood descry.
His foot is light; nor cat can lighter tread;
To listen, oft he stops, among the dead.
No sound is heard but of the distant owl;
Or farther still, of wolf, the dismal howl.
A form -- a shade is seen! The practiced ear
Detects a footstep, cautious, drawing near;
And Wa-be-no-ka, silent, crouches low,
To learn if made by friend or skulking foe.
The step advances still; and gleaming eye
Is seen, like star athwart the hazy sky.
"Hist, hist!" says Wa-be-no-ka; "oh, I pray,
A wounded warrior safely bear away:
If till the morning dawn I here must lie,
By vengeful foe, an Iroquois will die."
The wary chief would thus the foe mislead,
If foe he be; and shun a mournful deed,
If on some secret mission, secret friend,
Might thus his steps towards the village bend.
"But what," he whispers still "thy worthy name?
For sure this act denotes established fame.
No niggard souls the Iroquois display;
And if they did, such would not now essay
The guarded lines." A whisper in reply
Is quickly heard: "Beneath the western sky,
I had my birth. I am an Iroquois:
I was a Chic-ta-ghick, -- proud Illinois!
The change was wrought by fate -- by firm decree;
My first, my only name -- Ni-kan-no-kee."

WA-BE-NO-KA.

Hush, hush! Thou worthy chief. And can you keep
An early friendship -- graven long and deep
Upon the soul? Ah, brave Ni-kan-no-kee,
Thy friend -- young Wa-be-no-ka speaks to thee!

NI-KAN-NO-KEE.

I can, for I was once an Illinois;
Thus far I can defy the Iroquois.

WA-BE-NO-KA.

But why, on this obscure and heavy night,
Among the foemen, range the field of fight?

NI-KAN-NO-KEE.

I haste to tell, for soon I must return
To camp again; I snuff the early morn.
A sturdy, fearless band of Iroquois,
To yet retrieve the fortunes of the war,
Have stole above the town, to river side;
From whence, in boats, upon the gentle tide,
As soon as fully dawns the coming day,
And as the fog shall lightly float away,
They fierce intend to dash upon the strand;
And then, with tomahawk and blazing brand,
In one fell swoop, renew the battle fray:
Be wise the worst to meet; haste, haste away.

IV.

They part at once. The Illinois
Resumes his camp, an Iroquois;
And Wa-be-no-ka rapid threads,
The path that to his cabin leads.
The council meet upon the square,
At midnight's gloomy hour;
For threatened danger to prepare --
To meet a naval power.
A wise defense is quickly planned,
The foeman's fleet to brave;
And soon is formed a chosen band,
To meet him on the wave.
The worthy leader Che-to-waik,
To man the lines will undertake --
Whoever dares, will meet;
And Wa-be-no-ka, commodore,
In martial pomp, along the shore,
Commands the river fleet.

V.

At length the early morning cheers,
And yet no blushing East appears:
The town, the forest, river -- all,
Is covered with a misty pall.
The eye can scarcely trace the view,
The length of cabin or canoe.
The forest weeps, and drops in tears,
The air a winding sheet appears.
A precious time for foe to spring,
And mighty column silent fling
Against the line; the town essay,
And turn, perhaps, the doubtful day.

VI.

The sun advances up the skies;
The fogs, in circling eddies, lave
His face obscure. They slowly rise,
And dim unfold the gliding wave.
As floats the misty screen away,
The eyes, beneath the curtain, meet,
In naval pomp and firm array,
O-nun-da-no-ga's martial fleet.
A shout from Wa-be-no-ka tells; --
A deep surprise to O-to-quot;
And yet his anger fiercely swells,
Despite the fatal counterplot.
The boats along the water sweep,
As thirsty arrows eager sing;
The war-whoop rolls along the deep,
Commutual death is on the wing.
Ho-de-no-sau-nee bear the shield,
Of hardened bark in rounded form;
The other, skins of bison wield,
To guard against the arrow storm.
The navies mingle -- fierce engage;
Again the hatchet gleams on high;
The foemen throw the deadly gage,
The war-club circles thro' the sky.
And man'y a graceful bark canoe,
In sorry fragments quick is torn;
And man'y a warrior sinks from view,
And down the current quick is borne.
Into the flood fierce Do-ka-tee
Is thrown by Wa-be-no-ka brave;
The Iroquois, with demon glee,
Drags Ko-ko-ko-ho to the wave.
They grapple fiercely -- sink and rise;
They ply, in fury -- each his knife;
They roll and writhe in deadly throe;
They dash the water to the skies;
They strangle, in the fatal strife;
They shoot to dismal realm below.
And O-to-quot but poorly makes
A naval warfare on the lakes,
With those that by the deep are bred;
He now retreats; he quickly lands;
A final hope -- his dreadful bands,
To storm the lines will soon be led.

VII.

Brave Teuchsa Grondie now prepare,
The boldest feats of war to dare; --
The fury of the field to share;
The thunderbolt is poising high:
The wildest desperation, now,
Would stamp defeat upon thy brow --
To haughty victor make thee bow;
List -- listen to the battle cry!
See O-to-quot, with lofty stride --
See Iroquois, in all their pride,
Approach, the issue to abide;
Themselves upon the line to fling:
Now Wa-be-no-ka, Che-to-waik,
With firm resolve your station take;
Once more Ho-de-no-sau-nee shake;
Let eager arrows deadly sing.
They come, they come! like ocean swell;
The skies hurl back their mighty yell;
Now frightful blows will quickly tell;
Ah, hear the arquebuse resound!
Stand, brave defenders, firmly stand!
Meet, meet the foemen hand to hand!
Oh, strike for home and native land!
The line, the moat are hallowed ground!
The shelter Wa-be-no-ka spurns, --
In open view his whoop returns;
For war his every fibre burns;
In terror waves his plumy crest:
To hated foe he loud exclaims, --
"I wrapt your council-house in flames;
My yell awoke your sleeping dames;
I took your trophies of the West."
With this his hatchet rapid falls;
Proud Iroquois, the Pauguk calls;
The slaughter bravest hearts appalls;
And still his weapon reeks on high:
His war-club, with a mighty swing,
Is death itself upon the wing;
And foemen fall at every spring;
O-nun-da-no-ga turn and fly.
The ditch, the hero quickly leaps,
And o'er the plain in terror sweeps;
The ground, with dead and dying, heaps;
His voice is like the howling deeps;
He drives the flying foe amain:
He gleams, upon the plain afar, --
Saladin -- with his scimetar; --
AEneas -- in his whirling car; --
Ulysses -- in the suitor war; --
Achilles -- on the Trojan plain.

VIII.

The field is won; and still the foe,
To yet retrieve the fatal day,
Return and hurl a crushing blow;
In havoc wield a dreadful sway.
Again the war-club thunders tell;
on high the circling hatchet gleams,
And heroes, with a gasping yell,
Affrighted, flee to land of dreams.
E'en now, O-nun-da-no-ga might,
May win the fortunes of the fight:
E'en now, in triumph, bear away,
The glories of the dreadful day.
At even hand with single foe,
The Iroquois no equal know:
In arms they hold the argument,
As well attest the continent.
And Teuchsa Grondie backward reels --
The mighty shock of battle feels:
Loud, Wa-be-no-ka rings the cry,
To nobly conquor, or to die.

IX.

What earthly comfort can compare,
To that which comes on gilded wings,
As round us gathers black despair,
And hope anew upon us springs!
Ah, listen! On the northern plain,
Loud bursts the war-whoop from afar:
Ah, welcome, Kan-ne-tow again!
Thrice welcome brave Tai-go-ne-ga!
The Hurons rush upon the field --
The friends, of ruined Matchedash;
And with them fearless Wyandot;
A hero every man appears:
Ho-de-no-sau-nee, die or yield!
Now comes the final thunder-crash;
Now tremble haughty O-to-quot!
Ah, Teuchsa Grondie, quell your fears!
Nay, nay; expect not Iroquois,
To shrink from any doubtful war;
As long as hope and chance remain,
They fiercely brave the battle plain.
And now resounds the dreadful cry;
Hoarse thunders roll along the sky:
The forest lends a deafening roar,
That echoes to the distant shore.
Like stars that fire autumnal skies,
Intensely flash the foemen's eyes:
From side to side the hatchet gleams;
A crushing bolt the war-club seems.
Old Che-to-waik, wher-e'er he goes,
Makes ample room among his foes;
The valor of his youth returns:
Tai-go-ne-ga his vengeance takes,
A ghastly pile of foemen makes,
And still for slaughter fiercely burns.
And chieftains fall. Brave No-ne-yah,
Is hurled to waiting Po-ne-mah.
The worthy, fearless Kan-ne-tow,
Receives a deadly hatchet blow.
A brawny -- giant Wyandot,
In fury drives at O-to-quot;
The Iroquois before him frowns:
Impelled as by a mighty spring,
Their tomahawks in fury swing;
The dreadful yell of death resounds.
They fiercely grapple; hand to hand;
A gazing circle 'round them stand;
By terror all are held apart:
The Iroquois, with ready knife,
Triumphant ends the horrid strife;
He drives it to the foeman's heart.

X.

And yet O-nun-da-no-ga, now,
Thy lofty form prepare to bow;
See swift advance that fiery brow;
The hero of the western plain:
With blood his war-club reeking teems;
The spirit of his father gleams
Around his head, from land of dreams;
Old Mus-ko-da-sa lives again.
"I bore your trophies proud away,"
Says Wa-be-no-ka: "Rue the day,
Ye brought the deadly battle fray,
Around these western village walls."
His weapon sweeps upon the wing;
His battle shouts in thunder ring;
Down comes the blow with mighty swing,
And O-to-quot a ruin falls.
Triumphant whoops invade the sky;
Their tomahawks the victors ply;
Ho-de-no-sau-nee turn and fly,
Pursued by yells and ribald jeers.
The victors gather up the slain,
To land of dreams an honored train:
Fair Teuchsa Grondie breathes again;
And freely sheds her grateful tears.





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