So they two turned together; one to die,
Fighting for freedom on the bloody field;
The other, far more happy, to become
A name earth wears forever next her heart; 320
One of the few that have a right to rank
With the true Makers:  for his spirit wrought
Order from Chaos; proved that right divine
Dwelt only in the excellence of truth;
And far within old Darkness’ hostile lines
Advanced and pitched the shining tents of Light. 
Nor shall the grateful Muse forget to tell,
That—­not the least among his many claims
To deathless honor—­he was Milton’s friend,
A man not second among those who lived 330
To show us that the poet’s lyre demands
An arm of tougher sinew than the sword.

A CHIPPEWA LEGEND

[Greek:  algeina men moi kaalegein estin tade, algos de sigan.] Aeschylus, Prom.  Vinct. 197, 198.

For the leading incidents in this tale I am indebted to the very valuable Algic Researches of Henry R. Schoolcraft, Esq.  J.R.L.

The old Chief, feeling now wellnigh his end,
Called his two eldest children to his side,
And gave them, in few words, his parting charge! 
’My son and daughter, me ye see no more;
The happy hunting-grounds await me, green
With change of spring and summer through the year: 
But, for remembrance, after I am gone,
Be kind to little Sheemah for my sake: 
Weakling he is and young, and knows not yet
To set the trap, or draw the seasoned bow; 10
Therefore of both your loves he hath more need,
And he, who needeth love, to love hath right;
It is not like our furs and stores of corn,
Whereto we claim sole title by our toil,
But the Great Spirit plants it in our hearts,
And waters it, and gives it sun, to be
The common stock and heritage of all: 
Therefore be kind to Sheemah, that yourselves
May not be left deserted in your need.’

Alone, beside a lake, their wigwam stood, 20
Far from the other dwellings of their tribe: 
And, after many moons, the loneliness
Wearied the elder brother, and he said,
’Why should I dwell here far from men, shut out
From the free, natural joys that fit my age? 
Lo, I am tall and strong, well skilled to hunt,
Patient of toil and hunger, and not yet
Have seen the danger which I dared not look
Full in the face; what hinders me to be
A mighty Brave and Chief among my kin?’ 30
So, taking up his arrows and his bow,
As if to hunt, he journeyed swiftly on,
Until he gained the wigwams of his tribe,
Where, choosing out a bride, he soon forgot,
In all the fret and bustle of new life,
The little Sheemah and his father’s charge.