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

THE FEAST. 191
The eagle-plumes that him arrayed,
His pipe that sweetest solace brought,
His costly belts of wampum-braid,
His pouches
all his hands have wrought,
He stakes upon uncertain throws,
The very moccasins he wears ;
Or, as the game to frenzy grows,
v-
The wolf-skin robe his bosom bears.
And some, the braves of lighter mood,
Whose joy in wildest echoes rang,
Along the sward or sat or stood,
Or ran or wrestled, whooped or sang ;
While from each string, swift-speeding free,
Afar the willing arrows sped ;
Or darkly clashed on barky tree
The flinty war-ax, winging dread.
Or wide anon the challenge ran
With many a noisy shout and call,
As chose the leaders each his man
For nobler game of Bat and Ball.
They here the nearest limit set,
And there they fix the farthest goal ;
Still piling high the. stake and bet
Of blankets, weapons, trinkets all. 66