--- title: The Feast of the Virgins., part 1 — Legends of the Northwest · full text with trees · page 2 description: The Feast of the Virgins., part 1, «Legends of the Northwest» by Hanford Lennox Gordon: the whole chapter, every sentence with its dependency tree and pragmatics. It begins: The sun sails high in his azure realms; Beneath the arch of the breezy elms The feast is spread by the murmuring river. --- [Mova](https://md.mova.elamur.ai/free/en/) · [this page in HTML](https://mova.elamur.ai/free/en/corpora/tales/pg8122/8/page/2/) [home](https://md.mova.elamur.ai/free/en/) / [corpora](https://md.mova.elamur.ai/free/en/corpora/) / [tales](https://md.mova.elamur.ai/free/en/corpora/tales/) / [Legends of the Northwest](https://md.mova.elamur.ai/free/en/corpora/tales/pg8122/) / The Feast of the Virgins., part 1 # The Feast of the Virgins., part 1 · page 2 [1](https://md.mova.elamur.ai/free/en/corpora/tales/pg8122/8/) **2** "Wakâwa, Wakâwa, for thee the years Are red with blood and bitter with tears.[72](../../72/ "tree and pragmatics") Gone,--brothers, and daughters, and wife,--all gone That are kin to Wakâwa,--but one--but one-- Wakínyan Tanka--undutiful son\![73](../../73/ "tree and pragmatics") And he estranged from his fathers tee, Will never return till the chief shall die.[74](../../74/ "tree and pragmatics") And what cares he for his father's grief?[75](../../75/ "tree and pragmatics") He will smile at my death,--it will make him chief.[76](../../76/ "tree and pragmatics") Woe burns in my bosom.[77](../../77/ "tree and pragmatics") Ho, Warriors,--Ho\![78](../../78/ "tree and pragmatics") Raise the song of red war; for your chief must go To drown his grief in the blood of the foe\![79](../../79/ "tree and pragmatics") I shall fall.[80](../../80/ "tree and pragmatics") Raise my mound on the sacred hill.[81](../../81/ "tree and pragmatics") Let my warriors the wish of their chief fulfill; For my fathers sleep in the sacred ground.[82](../../82/ "tree and pragmatics") The Autumn blasts o'er Wakâwa's mound Shall chase the hair of the thistle's head, And the bare armed oak o'er the silent dead.[83](../../83/ "tree and pragmatics") When the whirling snows from the north descend, Shall wail and moan in the midnight wind.[84](../../84/ "tree and pragmatics") In the famine of winter the wolf shall prowl, And scratch the snow from the heap of stones, And sit in the gathering storm and howl, On the frozen mound, for Wakâwa's bones.[85](../../85/ "tree and pragmatics") But the years that are gone shall return again.[86](../../86/ "tree and pragmatics") As the robin returns and the whippowil When my warriors stand on the sacred hill And remember the deeds of their brave chief slain."[87](../../87/ "tree and pragmatics") Beneath the glow of the Virgin Star They raised the song of the red war dance.[88](../../88/ "tree and pragmatics") At the break of dawn with the bow and lance They followed the chief on the path of war.[89](../../89/ "tree and pragmatics") To the north--to the forests of fir and pine-- Led their stealthy steps on the winding trail, Till they saw the Lake of the Spirit \[55\] shine Through somber pines of the dusky dale.[90](../../90/ "tree and pragmatics") Then they heard the hoot of the mottled owl; \[56\] They heard the gray wolf's dismal howl; Then shrill and sudden the war whoop rose From an hundred throats of their swarthy foes, In ambush crouched in the tangled wood.[91](../../91/ "tree and pragmatics") Death shrieked in the twang of their deadly bows, And their hissing arrows drank brave men's blood.[92](../../92/ "tree and pragmatics") From rock, and thicket, and brush, and brakes, Gleamed the burning eyes of the forest snakes.[93](../../93/ "tree and pragmatics") \[57\] From brake, and thicket, and brush, and stone, The bow string hummed and the arrow hissed, And the lance of a crouching Ojibway shone, Or the scalp-knife gleamed in a swarthy fist.[94](../../94/ "tree and pragmatics") Undaunted the braves of Wakâwa's band Jumped into the thicket with lance and knife, And grappled the Chippewas hand to hand; And foe with foe, in the deadly strife, Lay clutching the scalp of his foe and dead, With a tomahawk sunk in his ghastly head, Or his still heart sheathing a bloody blade.[95](../../95/ "tree and pragmatics") Like a bear in the battle Wakâwa raves, And cheers the hearts of his falling braves.[96](../../96/ "tree and pragmatics") But a panther crouches along his track,-- He springs with a yell on Wakâwa's back\![97](../../97/ "tree and pragmatics") The tall Chief, stabbed to the heart, lies low; But his left hand clutches his deadly foe, And his red right clenches the bloody hilt Of his knife in the heart of the slayer dyed.[98](../../98/ "tree and pragmatics") And thus was the life of Wakâwa spilt, And slain and slayer lay side by side.[99](../../99/ "tree and pragmatics") The unscalped corpse of their honored chief His warriors snatched from the yelling pack, And homeward fled on their forest track With their bloody burden and load of grief.[100](../../100/ "tree and pragmatics") The spirits the words of the brave fulfill,-- Wakâwa sleeps on the sacred hill, And Wakínyan Tânka, his son, is chief.[101](../../101/ "tree and pragmatics") Ah, soon shall the lips of men forget Wakâwa's name, and the mound of stone Will speak of the dead to the winds alone, And the winds will whistle their mock-regret.[102](../../102/ "tree and pragmatics") The speckled cones of the scarlet berries \[58\] Lie red and ripe in the prairie grass.[103](../../103/ "tree and pragmatics") The Sí-yo \[59\] clucks on the emerald prairies To her infant brood.[104](../../104/ "tree and pragmatics") From the wild morass, On the sapphire lakelet set within it, Magâ \[60\] sails forth with her wee ones daily.[105](../../105/ "tree and pragmatics") They ride on the dimpling waters gaily, Like a fleet of yachts and a man of war.[106](../../106/ "tree and pragmatics") The piping plover, the laughing linnet, And the swallow sail in the sunset skies.[107](../../107/ "tree and pragmatics") The whippowil from her cover hies, And trills her song on the amber air.[108](../../108/ "tree and pragmatics") Anon, to her loitering mate she cries "Flip, O Will!--trip, O Will!--skip, O Will!"[109](../../109/ "tree and pragmatics") And her merry mate from afar replies: "Flip I will,--skip I will,--trip I will;" And away on the wings of the wind he flies.[110](../../110/ "tree and pragmatics") And bright from her lodge in the skies afar Peeps the glowing face of the Virgin Star.[111](../../111/ "tree and pragmatics") The fox pups \[60\] creep from the mother's lair And leap in the light of the rising moon; And loud on the luminous moonlit lake Shrill the bugle notes of the lover loon; And woods and waters and welkin break Into jubilant song,--it is joyful June.[112](../../112/ "tree and pragmatics") But where is Wiwâstè?[113](../../113/ "tree and pragmatics") O where is she-- The Virgin avenged--the queenly queen-- The womanly woman--the heroine?[114](../../114/ "tree and pragmatics") Has she gone to the spirits and can it be That her beautiful face is the Virgin Star Peeping out from the door of her lodge afar, Or upward sailing the silver sea.[115](../../115/ "tree and pragmatics") Star-beaconed and lit like an avenue, In the shining stern of her gold canoe?[116](../../116/ "tree and pragmatics") No tidings came--nor the brave Chaskè: O, why did the lover so long delay?[117](../../117/ "tree and pragmatics") He promised to come with the robins in May, With the bridal gifts for the bridal day; But the fair May mornings have slipped away, And where is the lover--the brave Chaskè?[118](../../118/ "tree and pragmatics") But what of the venomous Hârpstinà-- The serpent that tempted the proud Red Cloud, And kindled revenge in his savage soul?[119](../../119/ "tree and pragmatics") He paid for his crime with his false heart's blood, But his angry spirit has brought her dole; \[61\] It has entered her breast and her burning head, And she raves and burns on her fevered bed. "[120](../../120/ "tree and pragmatics") He is dead\![121](../../121/ "tree and pragmatics") He is dead!" is her wailing cry. "[122](../../122/ "tree and pragmatics") And the blame is mine,--it was I,--it was I\![123](../../123/ "tree and pragmatics") I hated Wiwâstè, for she was fair, And my brave was caught in her net of hair.[124](../../124/ "tree and pragmatics") I turned his love to a bitter hate; I nourished revenge, and I pricked his pride; Till the Feast of the Virgins I bade him wait.[125](../../125/ "tree and pragmatics") He had his revenge, but he died,--he died\![126](../../126/ "tree and pragmatics") And the blame is mine,--it was I,--it was I\![127](../../127/ "tree and pragmatics") And his spirit burns me, I die,--I die!"[128](../../128/ "tree and pragmatics") Thus, alone in her lodge and her agonies, She wails to the winds of the night, and dies.[129](../../129/ "tree and pragmatics") [1](https://md.mova.elamur.ai/free/en/corpora/tales/pg8122/8/) **2** - ← previous: [page 1](https://md.mova.elamur.ai/free/en/corpora/tales/pg8122/8/) - next →: [The Feast of the Virgins., part 2](https://md.mova.elamur.ai/free/en/corpora/tales/pg8122/9/) - ↑ back to [Legends of the Northwest](https://md.mova.elamur.ai/free/en/corpora/tales/pg8122/)