Many Many Moons/The Winds of Fifty Winters
PART III
CHIPPEWA MONOLOGUES
A Group or Indian Council Talks
THE WINDS OF FIFTY WINTERS[1]
The Weasel-Eye, the hawk-nosed one,With the long white beard and soft white hands,Arose before the Pillagers and OttertailsWho squatted by the council-fire.Fixing on his nose the little windows,And putting on his face a pretty smile,The Weasel-Eye "made talk, big talk":
The weasel-eye talks:
To be read witha patronisingair in a florid,declamatorymanner.
"My brothers, good red brothers,Brothers each and all,By me, his honest trusted agentWhose heart is good to the Indian,The Great White Chief sends greetingsTo his good red children—Ah! and many pretty presents!
(Ho!Hi-yah! Hi-yah!How! How! How!)
"Gaze ye!—Flashing silver-glassAnd tinkling copper bells!And powder kegs and beads, And tall black shining hats!Ye shall walk arrayedLike yon gorgeous blazing sunIf ye but heed my counsel.
(Ho! Ho! Ho!)
"Go ye North!Forsake these rolling hills;This vast, too-vast country.Forsake these wolf-infested forests,That Pale-Face tillers of the soilMay lay their Iron-RoadsAnd scratch the ground for harvests.Go ye North! to the barren lands,To the land of the marked-out ground.And though there be no mooseWithin its flame-swept timber,Nor whitefish in its waters,Nor patches of wild berries,Nor fields of nodding rice,Yet will ye be contentFor I will pay ye well;To every warrior, guns,—Six beavers' worth;To every headman, blankets,—Red as yonder sky;To every chieftain, ponies,—Six, more or less.And there, in the marked-out North,Your tribe may eat and danceForever and forever."
"Gaze upon me, O my brothers,My good red brothers,And heed ye well my counsel!The winds of fifty wintersHave blown about my head,And, lo! my hair is white with snow!The winds of fifty wintersHave blown about my head,And, lo! much wisdom lodged therein!And from the winds of fifty winters,Their wisdom, storms, and snows,Lo! I counsel ye:Sign ye this treaty!Take ye the presents!Go ye to the North!"
In the council-grove long silence fell,Save for a little laughing windThat wandered in the pines.Then, sinuous and supple as the wildcat,Ah-nah-mah-keé, the "Thunder-Bolt," strode forward.And stood a moment silent—Straight as the Norway pineThat rears its head above yon timber;And in his eyes the many little lightnings flashed,But on the corner of his mouth a sunbeam played:
Thunder-bolt talks:
"O my brothers, my red brothers,Brothers each and all, To be read simply and quietlywith an under-current ofhumor andinnuendo.The Weasel-Eye has spoken.He has opened up his honey mouth;And from the heart that is so goodHe has poured his sounding words.His heap-much pretty talkIs like the tinkling streamOf babbling sweet-water that gurglesDown from the mountain springs.But like the sweet-water of the brook,That stops its pretty runningIn the swamp and stands one sleepIn the deep and quiet pools,The pretty words turn bitter-sour.
To be read in aflorid, pompousmanner.
"Gaze upon me, O my brothers,My good red brothers!The winds of fifty wintersHave blown about my head,And, lo! my hair is white with snow!The winds of fifty wintersHave blown about my head,And lo! much wisdom lodged therein!The winds of fifty wintersHave blown about my head—But, lo! they have not blown away my brains!
I am done!"
(Ho!Hi! Hi!How! How! How!)
- ↑ For supplementary notes on "The Winds of Fifty Winters" and other poems in Part III, see Appendix, page 71.