And sweet as the hive in the hollow tree.
The proud Red Cloud will revenge his wrong
Let the brave be patient, it is not long
Till the leaves be green on the maple tree,
And the Feast of the Virgins is then to be;--
The Feast of the Virgins is then to be!"

Proudly she turned from the silent brave,
And went her way; but the warrior's eyes--
They flashed with the flame of a sudden fire,
Like the lights that gleam in the Sacred Cave, [38]
When the black night covers the autumn skies,
And the stars from their welkin watch retire.

Three nights he tarried--the brave Chaske;
Winged were the hours and they flitted away;
On the wings of Wakandee [39] they silently flew,
For Wiwaste had found her a way to woo.
Ah, little he cared for the bison-chase;
For the red lilies bloomed on the fair maid's face;
Ah, little he cared for the winds that blew,
For Wiwaste had found her a way to woo.
Brown-bosomed she sat on her fox-robe dark,
Her ear to the tales of the brave inclined,
Or tripped from the tee like the song of a lark,
And gathered her hair from the wanton wind.
Ah, little he thought of the leagues of snow
He trode on the trail of the buffalo;
And little he recked of the hurricanes
That swept the snow from the frozen plains