The league of the Iroquois and other legends : from the Indian muse

THE FEAST. 189
As glad they would the hour delay,
In free, but not unseemly mirth,
With laugh and jest they whiled the day ;
With friendly gossip, little worth,
Or story humorous did grace
The social hour,
or interspersed
The bold adventures of the chase ;
Or deeds of other days rehearsed.
Nor ended was that goodly feast
Till last of all the hunter's game,
Of fish or reptile, bird or beast,
That hung around the hissing flame,
By hand with hunger's strength imbued,
Each bone from bone was torn and cleft ;
Still ate and ate the multitude
Till all were filled, and naught was left.
Then forth the waiting pipe was brought
:
Unto the genial, calm content
The feast in every breast had wrought,
Its cheerful, soothing solace lent ;
And touched as with enchanter's wand,
Their eyes beyond the wreathing mist
Far-looking, saw the Shining Land,
The happy Spirit's Home and rest.
S5