The Kenosha telegraph. [volume] (Kenosha, Wis.) 1860-1888, 1871-06-15

Long moons have passed since DER these
hills
The red man, moved by bitter ills,
Breathed vengeance on his foe,
And from the mountain and the dell
Reechoed the wild warriors yell
To-Day the white man low
An Indian chief, of warlike fame,
One daughter had, whose fitting name
Was peerless MORNING STAR;
And many naughty Indian brave
Bowed at her feet, like humbeSt slave,
Whose fame had spread afar.
Black was her hair as ravens wing;
Her voice like mating birds in spring
Her step light as the fawn;
Her large dark eyes beamed love on all.
And sunshine with her touch did fail,
And darkness turned to dawn.
To the chiefs lodge a trader came
To barter beads for Indian game,
For fllrs and skins so gay.
He wooed this maiden with his eyes,
And, ruthless, won this beauteOus prize
To while his hours away.
The chieftain wished his daughter wed,
And borne to the great warrolr's bed
Who claimed her youthful charms
A chief of years and great renown,
Who'd bring a string of scalps to crown
The bride who'd bless his arms.
Fair MORNING STAR grew sad to think
That from her lover she must shrink,
And wed her fathers choice.
The pale~tace vowed words in her ear,
Which, like viper, glittered clear
It was traitors voice.
He whispered, if she'd be his bride,
To meet him at the rivers side
Three suns he'd for her wait.
No Indian chief should claim her hand;
He had a trusty, ready band
p To save her from that fate.
He left, and she was plunged in woe;
To the chiefs lodge she soon must 60
A sad, unwilling bride.
Twas night-the morn would see her wed.
Unseen she left her furry bed
And wigwam of her pride. ...
O'er the broad fields and mountain sleeps
Bright MORNING STAR now stealthy creeps,
While darkness brooded low.
How sad her heart, that she must leave
Her tribe, who for her loss would grieve
But tears she will not show.
The night fell darker DER the vale;
The sharp wind blew bitter gale;
Her steps grew weak and slow.
At length she lost the slender tr all,
At which her dusky cheeks grew pale.
All whittier should she go?
Like hunted deer's her bare feet sank.
But soon she raised cry,
SO fierce and wild it walked the night,
And put the startled wolf to flight,
And reused the buzzard night
An adder had her bare foot stung!
His planted fangs her heart-strings wrung
Alas no help TH9 .ta1S'f. .-
She struggled with her deadly foe,
ma, hid with pain, she turned to go
Back to her home in fear.
Too late She meier will reach that place
Where the rude wigWams of her race
Her dying eyes may cheer
She'll see no more the Indian maids,
No more will wander in the glades
Around her home SO dear.
All better thus that she should die,
Than by the pale-face traitors lie
Be led to greater Ill
Meanwhile they missed her from the tent
And warrior chief and brave were sent
To search DER vale and hill.
They started, and the welkin rang
With cries and yells and arrows tWang,
As hidden white men rose
Upon the unsuspecting braves.
Who struck like madmen at the knaves,
Their treach'rous bloody foes !
Poor MORNING STAR their war.cry hears,
The brook to which she crawIs
onion they CONT She hears their tread
The flying troop like lightning sped
And as she looks one falls!
The rising moon which lights the sky,
Reveals to her sad startled eye,
Her treach rous lover slain.
Her people murdered by his hand,
Their blood empurpling all the land,
Cried out from brook and plain.
His wicked scheme she sees too late.
And bravely struggles with her fate,
His evil to atone.s -r sr
She vows her soul shall ever stay
Beside that stream by night and day. e.
And there keep watch alone; ,
Till round one council FIRE they stand,
And red man. clasps the white mans hand
= No longer foes, but friends. Il
With smile sublime her VOW she made.
3 On the cold ground her head she laid
While death her spirit rends.
Through summers calm and winters storm
This Indian maiden's spirit form
It's faithful watch doth keep.
She hears her dying nations cry-R
Like hunted wolves they're doomed to fiv.
And in the dust to sleep.
Ne friend so faithful, true and fast.
AS Indian, faithful to the last.
So this poor Indian maid
Leaves the Great Spirits hunting ground
And by the limpid stream is found,
Till scslping.knife is laid.
Now every maiden passing bv
That haunted stream doth heave sigh,
And long for war to cease.
Then MORNING STAR shall find her mate,
In huntlng-groundso of that blest state,
Sweet Summer.Land of Peace
--%-N-~
A SKTY-FoUR THOUSAND DOLLAR
T. AINTING.-Another Raphael has LEFT
Italy, this one going to the palace of th,
Gar. It is the famous Madonna de-
Libro," one of the chief artistic attrac
tions of the City of Perugia, and the
.A..r-. . e &c clso.ALsA. Il - 81 ~ - Wv