Pacing my prison dark, Arms do I see,-- While measured the sentry's step,-- Glance gleamingly. Once, like the wild deer, Or eagle, as free,-- Now, closely guarded here, Prisoners we! When has the red man felt Woman's weak fears? But from these wearied eyes Fall warriors' tears. Father of Waters, I Ne'er shall see more,-- List to its waves pass by, Beating the shore. Sleeps my brave comrade now?-- Dreams he of home? See, o'er his haughty brow Dark shadows come. Like me, he fain would be Where, from the bow, Piercing the wild deer's side, Swift arrows go. When from the waters bright Fades the red sun, Following the evening light, Darkness comes on. So has my spirit drooped, Since from my home Traced I my weary steps, Ne'er to return. Hark! in the evening air Low voices come,-- Bring they to this sad heart Breathings of home. Now do the whispers rise, Mighty the sound, Like the thunder-bird,[16] from the skies Hurled to the ground. "Come to our hunting-lands! Proudly we roam Here, where the white man Never may come. From our forests on earth Oft driven back, We are free now, and follow The buffalo's track. "Here is the bright glance, From maiden's dark eye; While the song of the feast and dance Rings through the sky. Here do we wait thy step, While soon, for thee, Bursted the prison bars, The warrior free!" [Footnote 16: This is an allusion to the battles of the gods of the Dacotas. The Thunder (believed to be a bird) is sometimes conquered and cast to the earth by the god of the woods or the god of the waters.] THE FALSE ALARM. BY MRS. MARY EASTMAN. "Yes," said We-har-ka, who had outlived children and grandchildren, whose face and neck were covered with wrinkles, but who still could walk with the youngest and strongest, "the old woman must pick up what she can get to eat. I hate the white people. Have I forgotten the death of my son? Do I not see him now as he fell dead by the gate of the Fort? What if the Dacotas had killed some Chippeways! The Dacotas have a right to kill their enemies. Enah! I hate the Chippeways too. If I were a warrior, I would ever be tracking them and shooting them down, and I would laugh when I saw their blood flow." "The white people caused the death of your son," said Harpen.