Much more striking, and to me strangely so, are the songs of the Taensa,
a small tribe who dwelt on the banks of the lower Mississippi. They are
now extinct, but a very curious account of their language, by a Spanish
missionary, has been preserved and recently published. The early
travelers speak of them as an unusually cultivated people, but one
cannot but be surprised to find them capable of composing an
epithalamium like the following:--

"Tikaens, thou buildest a house, thou bringest thy wife to live in it.

"Thou art married, Tikaens, thou art married.

"Thou wilt become famous; thy children will name thee among the elders.
Think of Tikaens as an old man!

"By what name is thy bride known? Is she beautiful? Are her eyes soft
as the light of the moon? Is she a strong woman? Didst thou understand
her signs during the dance?

"I know not whether thou lovest her, Tikaens.

"What said the old man, her father, when thou askedst for his pretty
daughter?

"What betrothal presents didst thou give?

"Rejoice, Tikaens! be glad, be happy!

"Build thyself a happy home.