And though they held with us a friendly talk, The hollow peace-tree fell beneath their toma
It was encamping on the lake's far port,
A cry of Areouski* broke our sleep,
Where storm'd an ambush'd foe thy nation's fort,
And rapid, rapid whoops came o'er the deep;
But long thy country's war-sign on the steep
Appear'd through ghastly intervals of light,
And deathfully their thunders seem'd to sweep,
Till utter darkness swallowed up the sight,
As if a shower of blood had quench'd the fiery
fight!
"It slept-it rose again-on high their tower
Sprung upwards like a torch to light the skies,
Then down again it rain'd an ember shower,
And louder lamentations heard we rise;
As when the evil Manitou†27 that dries
Th' Ohio woods, consumes them in his ire,
In vain the desolated panther flies,
And howls, amidst his wilderness of fire:
Alas! too late we reach'd and smote those Hurons dire!
"But as the fox beneath the nobler hound,
So died their warriors by our battle-brand;
And from the tree we with her child unbound
A lonely mother of the Christian land-
Her lord-the captain of the British band-
Amidst the slaughter of his soldiers lay;
Scarce knew the widow our deliv'ring hand;
*The Indian God of War.
+ Manitou, Spirit or Deity.
Upon her child she sobb'd, and swoon'd away; Or shriek'd unto the God to whom the Christians
"Our virgins fed her with their kindly bowls
Of fever-balm, and sweet sagamite ;28
But she was journeying to the land of souls,
And lifted up her dying head to pray
That we should bid an ancient friend convey
Her orphan to his home of England's shore;
And take, she said, this token far away
To one that will remember us of yore,
When he beholds the ring that Waldegrave's
Julia wore.-
"And I, the eagle of my tribe,* have rush'd With this lorn dove."-A sage's self-command. Had quell'd the tears from Albert's heart that gush'd;
But yet his cheek-his agitated handThat shower'd upon the stranger of the land No common boon, in grief but ill beguil'd A soul that was not wont to be unmann'd; "And stay," he cried, " dear pilgrim of the wild! Preserver of my old, my boon companion's child!
"Child of a race whose name my bosom warms On earth's remotest bounds, how welcome here! Whose mother oft, a child, has fill'd these arms, Young as thyself, and innocently dear:
*The Indians are distinguished, both personally and by tribes, by the name of particular animals whose qualities they affect to resemble, either for cunning. strength, swiftness, or other qualities.-As the eagle, the serpent, the fox, or bear.
Whose grandsire was my early life's compeer:
Ah, happiest home of England's happy clime!
How beautiful e'en now thy scenes appear,
As in the noon and sunshine of my prime!
How
gone, like yesterday, these thrice ten years
of time!
"And, Julia! when thou wert like Gertrude
Can I forget thee, fav'rite child of yore?
Or thought I, in thy father's house when thou
Wert lightest hearted on his festive floor,
And first of all his hospitable door,
To meet and kiss me at my journey's end!
But where was I when Waldegrave was no
more ?
And thou didst, pale, thy gentle head extend, In woes, that e'en the tribe of deserts was thy friend!"
He said—and strain'd unto his heart the boy :
Far differently the mute Oneyda took
His calumet of peace,30 and cup of joy
As monumental bronze unchanged his look:
A soul that pity touch'd, but never shook:
Train'd, from his tree-rock'd cradle to his bier,31
The fierce extremes of good and ill to brook
Impassive-fearing but the shame of fear-
A stoic of the woods-a man without a tear.-
*Calumet of peace.-The calumet is the Indian name for the ornamented pipe of friendship, which they smoke as a pledge of amity.
Tree rock'd cradle.-The Indian mothers suspend their children in their cradles from the boughs of trees, and let them be rocked by the wind,
Yet deem not goodness on the savage stock
Of Outalissi's heart disdain'd to grow;
As lives the oak unwither'd on the rock
By storms above, and barrenness below :
He scorn'd his own, who felt another's woe:
And ere the wolf-skin on his back he flung,
Or laced his mocasins,* in act to go,
A song of parting to the boy he sung,
Who slept on Albert's couch, nor heard his
friendly tongue.
"Sleep, wearied one! and in the dreaming land
Shouldst thou the spirit of thy mother greet,
Oh! say, to morrow, that the white man's hand
Hath pluck'd the thorns of sorrow from thy feet;
While I in lonely wilderness shall meet
Thy little foot-prints-or by traces know
The fountain, where at noon I thought it sweet
To feed thee with the quarry of my bow,
And pour'd the lotus-horn,† or slew the mountain
Adieu! sweet scion of the rising sun!
But should affliction's storms thy blossom mock,
Then come again-my own adopted one!
And I will graft thee on a noble stock:
The crocodile, the condor of the rock,
Shall be the pastime of thy sylvan wars ;
And I will teach thee, in the battle's shock,
To pay with Huron blood thy father's scars,
And gratulate his soul rejoicing in the stars!"-
*Mocasins are a sort of Indian buskins.
From a flower shaped like a horn, which Chateaubriand presumes to be of the lotus kind, the Indians, in their travels through the desert, often find a draught of dew purer than any other water.
So finish'd he the rhyme (howe'er uncouth)
That true to nature's fervid feelings ran;
(And song is but the eloquence of truth :)
Then forth uprose that lone wayfaring man;32
But dauntless he, nor chart, nor journey's plan
In woods required, whose trained eye was keen
As eagle of the wilderness, to scan
His path, by mountain, swamp, or deep ravine,
Or ken far friendly huts on good savannahs
Old Albert saw him from the valley's side-
His pirogue launch'd-his pilgrimage begun-
Far, like the red-bird's wing, he seemed to
glide ;-
Then div'd, and vanish'd in the woodlands dun.
Oft, to that spot by tender memory won,
Would Albert climb the promontory's height,
If but a dim sail glimmer'd in the sun;
But never more, to bless his longing sight,
Was Outalissi hail'd, his bark and plumage
bright.
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