But the Ojibways, though repellèd, Are firm and undismayed; And fiercely they rush down again From the dense cedar shade. Preceded by a hail of arrows, With tomahawk, spear, and knife, They spring to deadly encounter, Hand to hand, and life for life! But again out-crash the arquebuse, And roar the musketoons; Delivered is the scathing fire By sections and platoons. The brave Ojibways are falling fast, But they fiercely press the foe, And shouts and cries are ringing As they stagger to and fro. And stern Mitwaos, unflinching, A lofty soul so brave, Calmly and proudly directing, Death-dealing strokes he gave. And on the right, Leaping Panther, Gallantly leading the way, By example to his warriors Must surely win the day. Lone Wolf on the left is foremost, An avalanche in the storm Of battle, sternly raging there On that September morn! Again they are driven backward, With ranks bloody and torn; But they rally, and charge again, Though of many red braves shorn. Once more for their homes and nation-- They’ll leap on the foe once more, And wrest from him the victory, Or die by Pelee’s shore. Again rose their shout of defiance, Their bosoms were aflame; And those fearless, dusky heroes Rushed to the carnage again. De Orville had not been idle, But detached the brave Le Jeune To turn their flank by the marshlands, And, in the onset, soon To fall on the rear of Mitwaos With the deadly musketoons-- Two score of valiant Frenchmen, With volleys by platoons. The shouts of the enraged combatants, As on each other they fell, And the roar of the musketoons Seemed as a blast from hell! The air was hissing with arrows, As they closed in the strife; Spear, tomahawk, knife, and warclub Drank many a Frenchman’s life. But the lance, the sword, and halberd Do well their deadly work; Not once do those gallant Frenchmen The fiery ordeal shirk. Ha! see, where the fight grows deadly, Meet de Orville and Mitwaos-- Proudly seeking each other, Their deadly weapons cross. And as the red lightning’s flash They come to the fierce assault, And mighty blows fall fast like hail; They spring like panthers, and vault, To thrust, to guard, and to ward The crushing blow of the brands, Followed swift by skilful strokes Delivered by master hands. De Orville is cool and collected, With sinews strong as steel; Mitwaos he hath sorely wounded-- Ah! see the totter and reel Of the unyielding chieftain, Who sinks, aye, sinks and dies! And the Ojibways’ hearts are broken; List to their mournful cries!