Bow down your heads, O my Readers! He-no, the Thunderer, and Ga-oh,
the Old Man of the Winds, are filling the air with confusion. Our
Council-Fire is dying. The smoke has drifted away. Ha-wen-ne-yu has
shut his ears. The doors to Yesterday are closing.
We will dance the O-ke-wa, the Dance for the Dead, for what was has
passed. It is no more. Only the memory of the wise and the brave
remains. Not even the Falling Waters of Jagara can sweep away the
names of To-do-da-ho and the Shining Ones of the Great League.
They have been honored by Ha-wen-ne-yu. They sit at his side in the
Halls of Ho-no-che-no-keh. The Good Spirits laugh and chant their
praises as they show the scalps they have taken and recount the
tribes they conquered. The De-o-ha-ko, the Three Sisters, our
Supporters, are their handmaidens. They flourish in the Hereafter
like the Pine-Tree on earth.
Remember them, O my Readers! Remember the Founders! Remember the
Long House they built! Remember the warriors of the Eight Clans!
For what you are you owe to them.
_Ha-ho!_