History of Oakland County, Michigan.

58

HISTORY OF OAKLAND COUNTY, MICHIGAN.

after a course of hundreds of miles, they at last rest in Lakes Erie and St. Clair.
These rivers are in summer dotted with the water-lily, as they flow oul through
the 'openings,' and on their banks are huge old oaks, under which, in the
days that are gone,' stood many a wigwam.
" The legend which I have attempted to versify is founded upon an incident
occurring at Orchard lake long before the coming of the white man, and while
the grand farms now lying around it were merely a vast I oak opening,' its sole
occupants the Indian and the wild beast.
"1 Very near the centre of this Orchard lake is a large island, wooded to its
very shore. On it are a few apple-trees, ' old and gnarled,' remnants of an orchard
planted so long ago that the Indians even have no data concerning it. Its name,
'Me-nah-sa-gor-ning,' meaning I apple place,' still lives in tradition.
" On this island the Algonquinl chief, Pontiac, had his lodge, after his repulse
at the siege of Detroit. On the high bank of this lake, opposite the island, is still
to be seen the ancient burial-ground of the Sacs, Hurons, and TWyandots.
" Tradition says that, back beyond the memory of the tribe, a young chief sickened and suddenly died. The maiden to whom he was betrothed became insane,
and whenever she could escape from her guardians, would take the body of the
chief from its resting-place in the old ground, across the lake, and carry it back
where his lodge formerly stood.
" At last, weary of guarding her, with the advice of their I medicine man,' the
tribe killed her, upon her refusal to marry. This crime, so directly opposed to
all former Indian custom, so offended the Great Spirit that he avowed his intentionl to totally destroy the tribe, and to give the maiden, as long as water flowed,'
complete control over it.
"1 She alone has power to assume her form at any time. She can compel the
attendance of the tribe at any time by the beating of the Indian drum. At this
sound they must gather and wait where an old canoe has been gradually covered
by the drifting sands. Upon the signal of her coming with her dead the warriors
must meet her on the shore, bear the chief on his bier, and lay him down by the
ashes of his council-fire, and, waiting beside him until she can caress him, bear
him back to his resting-place.
"All, however, must be done between sunset and sunrise, -a fogg night being
always chosen, to elude observation.
"On the cedar-crowned beach of M'e-nach-8al-gor-nting,
Where the waves o'er the pebbles roll slowly ashore;
Where the ruby-eyed gull, with its head 'neath its win-,
Sleeps calm on its nest when its day's flight is o'er,
"Lies an ancient canoe, buried deep in the sand
That the storms in their fury have ovter it spread;
And at eve, when the fog rolls away o'er the land,
This canoe rises up, and is launched by the dead.
" As the night-hawk whirls by with a swoop overhead,
And the loon's trilling call rises shrill from the bay;
In the west the calm lake is with dia~mond-dust spread,
And in garnet-hued clouds the red sun fades away.
IV.
"O'er the marsh hangs a fog, and all wildly it trends,
Rolling backward and forward o'er valley and hill;And it wavers like smoke where the still river bends,
And it toys with the alders, yet never is still.
v.
"Then it fondles the flags, and its pearly drops press
The soft cheek of the iris while filling its urn;
And it spreads o'er the mosses a spray-covered dress,

And it trickles adown the green fronds of the fern.
VI.
" At the roll of a drum the gaunt wolf leaves his prey,
While the dead rise from graves 'mong the roots of the trees,
And they listen a moment, then hasten away,
Till their footfall is heard on the fog-laden breeze.
VII.
" They are seeking faint trails, and they halt as each sign
Comes again, as of old, on their 'wildering sight;
And they wind through the trees fill their torches of pine
Gleam like nebulous stars through the curtain of night.
VIII.
"They are gathered, all armed, where the stranded canoe
On the mist-hidden lake floats as light as of yore;
And they wait on the- beach till a distant halloo
Rolls away on the night from the opposite shore.

IX.
" O'er the lake where the pines laugh the wild winds to scorn,
And still sigh for the dead who are dust on earth's breast,
Echo shouts to old Echo till, far distant borne,
Like a play-wearied child it sinks down to its rest.
x.
" With a sound on the air like the loon's pattering feet,
When it drags o'er the lake as it rises for flight,
A canoe's glistening prow cuts the waves as they meet,
And mingles their spray with the dew-drops of night.
XI.
" There's a swaying of reeds where the ripples pass through,
With a murmur of waves seething over the sand,
When through rifts of the fog looms a tiny canoe,
Which an Indian girl slowly guides to the land.
XII.
"In the frail birchen shell she is paddling alone,
As it surges along o'er the white-crested wave;
And she heedeth no sound, save a low undertone
Like the dirge that the mourners chant over a grave.
XIII.
"Bending low o'er a form that seems nodding in sleep,
With her paddle she checks the canoe's rapid way,
Till it noiselessly rests where the sentinels keep
Steadfast watch all the night for the coming of day.
XIV.
" Ere her light-floating bark crush the beautiful weeds
That are drapiDng each stone with their emerald green,
She has guided its prow where the brown-tufted reeds
Throw their buds in her lap as she passes between.
xv.
"As she leaves her small craft by the stranded canoe,
And glides in through the mist where the warriors meet,
In the bush of the night-time, the shoal] water through,
Comes a dull, plashing sound, as of moccasined feet.
XVI.
"Looking back like the doe when the wolf's distant crye,
Swelling loud on the wind, breaks at night on her ear,
Stands the maid in deep shadow, while silently by
Aged warriors pass with the chief on his bier.
XVII.
{'With a sound like slow rain, each foot moves a leaf
That has mouldered long years in the old forest trail;
While the drone of the wave and low chant for the chief
Float quiveringly up over hill-top and dale.
XVIII.
" 'Neath an old fallen pine, whose bared roots are all torn,
And are. knotted and twined like huge serpents in fight,
On dressed skins of the deer lies the chief they have borne
Over moss-covered paths through the darkness of night.
"From the rain-dimpled ashes,. time-furrowed and gray,
Throug~h the cedars the council-fire glimmers once more;
And its flame through the mist throws a pale, lurid ray
On the maiden's slight form as she comes from the shore.
xx.
"She kneels in the midst of the warriors there,
With her little hands clasped o'er her blanketed head;

And far out o'er the lake on the fog-thickened air
Floats the dirge which the mourner chants over her dead.
XXI.
"'I have borne thee again from the far-distant shore,
I am kneeling; beloved, beside thee once more,
And the night goes byDost thou think of me still in the Spirit Land?
Oh, loved! oh, lost! could'st thou clasp my hand
I would gladly die.
2XII.
" They will bear thee away from my sight again,
And the autumn's dried leaves, and the summer's rain
Will fall on thy breast;Wilt thou think, love, of me, when the evening showers
Shed their tears with mine on the beautiful flowers,
Where thy head shall rest?'