And lead her forth from the ring again.
And the word of a brave is the fiat of law;
For the Virgins' Feast is a sacred thing.
Aside with the mothers sat Hârpstinà;
She durst not enter the Virgins' ring.

Round and round to the merry song
The maidens dance in their gay attire,
While the loud _Ho-Ho's_ of the tawny throng
Their flying feet and their song inspire.
They have finished the song and the sacred dance,
And hand in hand to the feast advance--
To the polished bowls of the golden maize,
And the sweet fawn-meat in the polished trays.

Then up from his seat in the silent crowd
Rose the frowning, fierce-eyed, tall Red Cloud;
Swift was his stride as the panther's spring,
When he leaps on the fawn from his cavern lair;
Wiwâstè he caught by her flowing hair,
And dragged her forth from the Sacred Ring.
She turned on the warrior, her eyes flashed fire;
Her proud lips quivered with queenly ire;
And her sun-browned cheeks were aflame with red.
Her hand to the spirits she raised and said:
"I am pure!--I am pure as the falling snow!
Great _Tâku-skán-skán_[51] will testify!
And dares the tall coward to say me no?"
But the sullen warrior made no reply.
She turned to the chief with her frantic cries: