Page:The life and adventures of James P. Beckwourth, mountaineer, scout, pioneer, and chief of the Crow nation of Indians (IA lifeadventuresof00beckrich).pdf/458

438 expects my return, that I may be buried with my supposed fathers, but none looks so eagerly for the great warrior as

I've seen her in her youthful years;

Her heart was light and free,

Her black eyes never dimm'd with tears,

So happy then was she.

When warriors from the fight return'd,

And halted for display,

The trophies that the victors won

She was first to bring away.

I've seen her kiss her brother's cheek

When he was called to go

The lurking enemy to seek,

Or chase the buffalo.

She loved him with a sister's love:

He was the only son;

And "Pine Leaf" prized him far above

The warriors' hearts she'd won.

I've seen her in her mourning hours—

That brother had been slain:

Her head, that oft was decked with flowers,

Now shed its crimson rain;

Her bleeding head and bleeding hand—

Her crimson, clotted hair—

Her brother's in the spirit land,

And hence her keen despair,

I've heard her make a solemn vow—

"A warrior I will be

Until a hundred foes shall bow,

And yield their scalps to me;

I will revenge my brother's death—

I swear it on my life,

Or never, while I draw a breath,

Will I become a wife."

I've seen her on her foaming steed,

With battle-axe in hand,

Pursuing at her utmost speed

The Black Foot and Shi-an.