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Traditions of the North American Indians, Vol. 3   By: (1791-1854)

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First Page:

[Illustration: FRONTISPIECE. Vol. 3. Designed & Etched by W. H. Brooks A. R. H. A. In a moment multitudes of bright beings start up "He is ours"!!! page 110.

London, Published by Colburn & Bentley April 1830. ]

TRADITIONS OF THE NORTH AMERICAN INDIANS:

BEING

A SECOND AND REVISED EDITION OF

"TALES OF AN INDIAN CAMP."

BY

JAMES ATHEARN JONES.

IN THREE VOLUMES.

VOL. III.

LONDON: HENRY COLBURN AND RICHARD BENTLEY, NEW BURLINGTON STREET. 1830. F. SHOBERL, JUN., LONG ACRE.

CONTENTS

OF

THE THIRD VOLUME.

Page The Lake of the White Canoe 1 A Legend of the Bomelmeeks 33 The King of the Elks 47 The Daughters of the Sun 77 The Maiden and the Bird 91 The Island of Eagles 117 Legend of Aton Larre 145 The Fire Spirit 167 The Origin of Women 175 The Hill of Fecundity. A Tradition of the Minnatarees 183 TALES OF A WHITE MAN'S GHOST. I. Garanga 191 II. The Warning of Tekarrah 213 III. The Legend of Pomperaug 237 IV. The Son of Annawan 251 V. The Cascade of Melsingah 279 Legend of Coatuit Brook 305 The Spirits of Vapour 313 The Devil of Cape Higgin 321

TALES OF AN INDIAN CAMP.

THE LAKE OF THE WHITE CANOE.

Wo! Wo! Wo Wo to the sons of the far off land, Weak in heart and pale in face, Deer in battle, moose in a race, Panthers wanting claw and tooth Wo to the red man, strong of hand, Steady of purpose, lithe of limb, Calm in the toils of the foe, Knowing nor tears nor ruth Wo to them and him, If, cast by hard fate at the midnight damp, Or an hour of storm in the dismal swamp, That skirts the Lake of the White Canoe!

Wo to him and them, If, when the night's dim lamps are veil'd, And the Hunter's Star is hid, And the moon has shut her lid, For their wearied limbs the only birth Be the cold and frosty earth, And their flesh be burnt by the gum exhal'd From the cedar's poisonous stem, And steep'd in the blistering dew Of the barren vine in the birchen copse, Where rear the pines their giant tops Above the Lake of the White Canoe!

My brother hears 't is well And let him shun the spot, The damp and dismal brake, That skirts the shallow lake, The brown and stagnant pool[A], The dark and miry fen, And let him never at nightfall spread His blanket among the isles that dot The surface of that lake; And let my brother tell The men of his race that the wolf hath fed Ere now on warriors brave and true, In the fearful Lake of the White Canoe.

Wo! Wo! Wo! To him that sleeps in those dark fens! The she wolf will stir the brake, And the copper snake breathe in his ear, And the bitterns will start by tens, And the slender junipers shake With the weight of the nimble bear, And the pool resound with the cayman's plash, And the owl will hoot in the boughs of the ash, Where he sits so calm and cool; Above his head, the muckawiss[B] Will sing his gloomy song; Frogs will scold in the pool, To see the musk rat carry along The perch to his hairy brood; And, coil'd at his feet, the horn snake will hiss, Nor last nor least of the throng, The shades of the youth and maid so true, That haunt the Lake of the White Canoe... Continue reading book >>




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