His fame in the voice of the winds went forth
From his hunting grounds in the happy north,
And far as the shores of the Great Mede [36]
The nations spoke of the brave Chaske.

Dark was the visage of grim Red Cloud,
Fierce were the eyes of the warrior proud,
When the chief to his lodge led the brave Chaske,
And Wiwaste smiled on the tall Hohe.
Away he strode with a sullen frown,
And alone in his teepee he sat him down.
From the gladsome greeting of braves he stole,
And wrapped himself in his gloomy soul.
But the eagle eyes of the Harpstina
The clouded face of the warrior saw.
Softly she spoke to the sullen brave:
"Mah-pi-ya Duta,--his face is sad.
And why is the warrior so glum and grave?
For the fair Wiwaste is gay and glad.
She will sit in the teepee the live-long day,
And laugh with her lover--the brave Hohe.
Does the tall Red Cloud for the false one sigh?
There are fairer maidens than she, and proud
Were their hearts to be loved by the brave Red Cloud.
And trust not the chief with the smiling eyes;
His tongue is swift, but his words are lies;
And the proud Mah-pi-ya will surely find
That Wakawa's promise is hollow wind.
Last night I stood by his lodge, and lo
I heard the voice of the Little Crow;