The Dalles daily chronicle. [volume] (The Dalles, Or.) 1890-1948, 1896-11-11
The Cascndes.

1AAo CaSSAaSS-
lis an ancient Indian legend, 'fWhen the golden
sun was young"
Mount Hood and hoary Adams waged in war;
They wrenched the solid mountains from their
base beside the stream,
And hurled them as fierce missiles from afar.
AT that time solid causeway spanned .he broad
And the rushing, roaring waters filed its
1t stretched in solid archway it's span from shore
Gathering from each Iengthening cubit greater
strength.
The mour tains in their anger belched forth the
Hurled them rs from mouth of cannon gainst
And when the battle ended, earth trembled with
the shock,
Till the mighty bridge which spanned the
flood wss gone.
You can yet, while passing by there, where the
Warns the mariner of danger in his path,
See the stakes of the 'butments OF che bridge
The mountains wrenched it from them in their
wrath.
grandeur stood,
Stands a wooden fortress, honeycombed with
Where Phil Sheridan, the soldier, in the strength
First gave to willy Savage mortal hosts
Adjacent stands thec cottonwood, where the chiefs
Paid lies last expIation for their claims:
When CHIEF Chenoweth and others drew the
tomahawk again,
To drive the white invaders from their homes
And here, where only Nature his inspiration
giving,
Led the Indian to the scaffold- proudly scaled
If by suffering death for others he might bring
to those yet living,
Hope to drive the white invaders from the
field.
But to conquer is not for him; his race must
The places which knew him shall no more
The green hills of his father, subject to alien
Marks his grave where his father roamed be-
fore.
see him passing by me like dim shadows of the
His vaIor and his sorrows left unsung
The mountains both the cradle of his race,
Gloomy, silent,swift with stories of his wrong.
The iron arm of Progress clasped him in its
fierce embrace;
He is crushed beneath the foot of human
The problem of his being is left for man to face
Does advancement bring to better human
need?
No more along the mountain trail his daugh-
Her musics lost in Silence, and her song
let trembles in the aspens, while her spirit on
the wing,
Tells no tale of long oppression or of wrong
His canoe upon the river is lost to mortal sight;
His warriors ever ride in phantom boats;
He has sunk beneath the surface of the rivers
conquering might,
His paddle in the driftwood ever floats.
Now there springs from out the silence of dead
race passed away,
The genius of the white mans power and state;
And he seeks to wrest the rapids from the rivers
conqueling sway,
To check its restless speed with stone and gate.
Where once the gods in vain uphs Id their bridge
of stone,
The tiny hand of man exerts its power;
But his work will pass away like the dead race
that is gone,
And the river will be ever water there.
Broad Columbial mighty rivcr fitting emblem
of the greatl
Thy waves shall wash the sands of fleeting
time;
And the race which seeks to curb thee shall be
leveled to the state
OF this dead race, lost to history and to rhyme.
The Bridge of Gods is fallen, for the lock you'll
look in vain;
The hand which formed the mountains shad-
all.
Brings the seed-time and the harvest; brings
the hailstOrm and the Tain
Brings to justice all his creatures unjust
tons to their fall.
Grand Columbia glorious river. sweeping match
less to the sea:
Bearing on thy heaving bosom natures
wreath,
You have swept the ages past-for past eter-
nifty,
And will sweep on where mankind is lost in
death-Contributed.