The Terror Legend

The Terror Legend: "The Terror Legend TERROR LEGEND Revised: September 1987 " In the days before the white man Came across the rolling prairies Once a tribe of noble warriors. In the Valley of the Fountain Pitched their tents among the fir trees. All around them sighed the forest Straight behind them rose the mountain, House of Manitou the mighty. Brown were all his cliffs and boulders And it meant “My strength is tireless.” White the snow upon his summit, Meaning, “True are all my sayings,” Every warrior wore his colors. Brown, as he, were all their faces, Striped with white their cheeks were painted Meaning strength to fight their battles Meaning truth in all their sayings. With their old and noble chieftain They were feared among the nations. 'Twas the wise old Wankanago, He, the strong and skillful leader, Who had made the tribe so powerful, He had trained them all in warfare, He had taught them to be valiant Till their foes had learned to fear them, Till at last the other nations Called their band the tribe of Terrors. Every year at harvest feasting All the, young men fought and wrestled, And the winners of the wrestling At the harvest feast were honored. Once a youth with iron sinews Vanquished all of his companions. “Come!” called wise old Wankanago. From his seat behind the camp-fire, “Come and I will decorate you. I will draw a circle on you, On your chest will draw a circle. It shall say to all the warriors That your courage has no ending.” And the wise old Wankamgo Dipped a brush in white and painted On the wrestler's breast a symbol. But before he closed the circle Loud the warwhoop called to battle. Forth they rushed, the Terror warriors Drove their enemies down the canyon, Slew them in the gloomy canyon But the young and valiant wrestler, He, the mightiest among them, Fighting fiercely, fell in battle. Loudly wailed the Terror women As the young men bore him homeward, Laid him down beneath the pine trees At the feet of Wankanago. And the firelight shone and flickered On the white and broken circle, Tearless, the old man gazed upon him, At the ring of white unfinished. Stooped the old man to complete it, But he raised his hand above him High in air above his people. All the women ceased from wailing, Listened to his words of wisdom. “Oh, my people, let us leave it-- Leave the circle uncompleted. Let the “C” now be our symbol, Let it be our badge of courage, Let the warriors strive to win it By their feats of strength and wrestling.” And in all the years that followed Every warrior strove to win it-- Till the enemies fled in terror When they saw that badge of honor. Old was skillful Wankanago... Bent with years, his steps were feeble. He had seen a hundred winters As the chief of all the Terrors. Now his time had come to leave them And the people came around him For his final words of parting. “Oh, my people,” said the chieftain, Fear not those who are against us For our strength comes from the courage Of our true and noble warriors.” As he spoke an eagle from heaven Circling down on snowy pinions Bore away the ancient warrior As on wings of mighty magic. Long the people watched his going Upwards towards the peak ascending, Till he passed the cloudy gateway To the land of the hereafter. Many moons the Terrors prospered While they talked of Wankanago, And remembered ALL he taught them. But the memory dimmed and faded, Then the young men ceased to wrestle. All their bravery had left them. Lazy were their squaws and children, And their warriors all were weakened. Till the Manitou in mercy, In his mercy toward his people, Returned the magic eagle to them, To remind them oftheie strength, Of their courage and their honor, And to lift the Terror’s spirits As he had lifted Wankanago. Every year he lives among them, He, the mighty Terror Eagle, All the youths again are valiant And their enemies fear their coming Long ago the aged founders Of the nation have departed, But today their brave descendents Still are called the “Tribe of Terrors.” And the mighty Terror Eagle Lifts the spirits of the Terrors. And the symbol of the warrior Is again the broken circle, Is the "C'--the badge of courage. Still are Brown and White our colors, Strength and truth their mystic meaning. Pledging truth to Terror Spirit, Pledging strength to help us onward, Pledging loyalty forever To the brown and white, our colors Brown and White, the magic colors Of the Peak that towers above us On the plains of Colorado.