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And meek and humble was his speech;
He knew the white man's hand
Long scourged from the land.
Of water from the well,
That from his table fell.
He said that his old frame had toiled
A wide and weary way, O'er the sunny lakes and savage hills,
And through the lakes that day. Yet when he saw they scoffed his words,
He turned away in wo, And cursed them not, but only mourned
That they should shame him so.
When many years had flown away,
That herdsman of the hill
The wolf and bear to kill-
The panther in his lair,
The sunless forests there.
And soon his hounds lay dead with toil,
The deer were fierce and fleet, And the prairie tigers kept aloof
Where they heard his hostile feet.
Nor crystal rivulet
Or his hot brow to wet.
He feared-he feared to die-yet knew That nought
on earth could save; For none might catch his parting breath
And lay him in his grave.
Burned feebly in his breast,
His hated Indian guest !
He shared his wheaten loaf with him,
His cup of water shared,
For whom his heart most cared.
"I cursed you not,” the Indian said,
“When thou wast stern to me,
White man ! farewell to thee!”
TU-WH00! Tu-whoo !—In my ancient hall,
In my old gray turret high,
To the frighted passer-by.
Come clambering up to me;
Have no goodlier company!
Let them joy in their brilliant sun-lit skies,
And their sunset hues, who may;
Is the garish blaze of day!
Some tall tree-top I win;
Or plunges sportive in.
As the last lone ray from the hamlet fades
In the dark and still profound,
To the fire-flies circling round.
A right gladsome life lead we;
But the midnight dark for me!
FROM the quickened womb of the primal gloom
The sun rolled black and bare,
Of the threads of my golden hair;
Arose on its airy spars,
And spangled it round with stars.
And their leaves of living green;
Of Eden's virgin queen.
And when the fiend's art on her trustful heart
Had fastened its mortal spell,
To the trembling earth I fell.
When the waves that burst o'er a world accursed
Their work of wrath had sped,
Came forth among the dead,
I bade their terrors cease,
God's covenant of peace.
Like a pall at rest on a pulseless breast,
Night's funeral shadow slept,
Their lonely vigils kept;
Of Heaven's redeeming plan,
Joy, joy to the outcast Man!
Equal favour I show to the lofty and low,
On the just and unjust I descend;
Feel my smile the blest smile of a friend.
As the rose in the garden of kings;
appear, And lo! the gay butterfly's wings!
The desolate Morn, like a mourner forlorn,
Conceals all the pride of her charms,
And lead the young Day to her arms;
And sinks to her balmy repose,
their soft rest, by the zephyr-famed west, In curtains of amber and rose.
From my sentinel steep, by the night-brooded deep,
I gaze with unslumbering eye,
Is blotted from the sky;
Though sped by the hurricane's wing,
To the haven-home safely he brings.
I waken the flowers in their dew-spangled bowers,
The birds in their chambers of green,
As they bask in my matinal sheen.
Though fitful and fleeting the while,
Ever bright with the DEITY's smile!
“How can the red men be forgotten, while so many of our states and territories, rivers and lakes, are designated by their names ?”
YE say they all have passed away,
That noble race and brave,
From off the crested wave;
There rings no hunter's shout;
Ye may not wash it out.
Like ocean's surge is curled,
The echo of the world;
Rich tribute from the west,
On green Virginia's breast.
That clustered o'er the vale,
Before the autumn gale;
Their baptism on your shore,
Their dialect of yore.
Within her lordly crown,
Amid his young renown,
Where her quiet foliage waves,