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 Tecumseh 
 
 a Drama 
 
 ^JP2^ (■•i/icojv/) HnirioA) 
 
 ASH j^ 
 
 Canadian Poems 
 
 c=0 
 
 CHARLES MAIR 
 
 TORONTO ; 
 
 ^vn,).iA.\i hkhk; 
 1 90 1 
 

 
TO 1HE SURVIVORS 
 OF Ta« 
 
 "Canaba /tret" a««octatton 
 
 THIS VOLUME IS 
 AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED. 
 
 •^^t*-- '■-i-a>t***'f'"'-''^ ■' •*y***'^ ,^**^*-*^/i /<-*-**t^ »'V.^. ^*-t*w^***« 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 'pHE fim edition of "Tecumseh," published in Toronto 
 in 1886, had a quick sale, but, not being stereotyped, 
 ran out of print, and a re-issue is now called for. The 
 author has often been asked to republish his youthful 
 venture, entitled "Dreamland, and other Poems," only a 
 limited number of copies of which saw the light. Whilst 
 Uie edition wa. passing through the binder's hand, in 
 Ottawa, and the author himself in the then wilderness of 
 Prince Ruperts Und, the greater part of it was burnt in 
 the Uesbaiats fire in ,869. I„ the following pages (Part 
 n.) the major portion of that unfortunate volume is in- 
 eluded, with such revision as seemed tiesirable. 
 
 For the shortcomings of his work, of which the author is 
 but too coiMcious, his only excuse is that he has done hit 
 best. Oct romantic Canadian storj- is a mine of character 
 and mciden. for the poet and novelist, framed, too, in a 
 matchless environment; and the Canadian author who 
 seeks inspiration there is helping to create for a young 
 people that decisive test of it, intellectual faculties, an 
 original and distinctive literature-a literature liberal in i<s 
 range, but, in its highest forms, springing in a large meas- 
 ure from the soil, and "tasting of the wood." Any work 
 of this kind, therefore, is on the right path, and, though of 
 slender pretensions otherwise, may possess the merits of 
 suggcstivenejs and sincerity. For his own part, the writer 
 may say, with regard to the book now in hand, that its 
 colouring, at any rate, is due to a lifetime's observation of 
 those primitive inter-racial and formative influences which 
 
4 Preface 
 
 together with a time-honoured polity, are the source of the 
 Canadian tradition. 
 
 In "Tecumseh" the author attempts to depict dramati- 
 cally the time and scenes in which the great Indian so 
 nobly played his part— at first independently, and in his 
 own country, and afterwards in alliance and leadership with 
 General Brock in the War of 1812. That war was the 
 turning point of Canada's destiny. It was maintained 
 mainly within her borders— a community of some 70,000 
 souls in Upper Canada, with about thrice that number in 
 the Lower Province, being pitted against a nation of 
 8,000,000. Upper Canada was then a wilderness almost 
 unbroken, save by the clearings of the United Empire 
 Loyalists and their sons. There were only 1,500 Imperial 
 troops in the Province, scattered along an immense fron- 
 tier; and England, when the United States declared war, 
 was in the throes of her deadly struggle with Napoleon! 
 In the face of such emergencies, the courage and vigor of 
 the Canadian people of both races can be truly appreciated. 
 Enrolling during the war over 500,000 men, and repeatedly 
 entering Canada at many points, the invaders were at last 
 everywhere discomfited, and at its close had been driven to 
 a man from Canadian soil. The bitter feelings engendered 
 by the long struggle have died down, and racial sym- 
 pathies, wantonly alienated on the one hand by despotic 
 statecraft in the previous century, and, on the other, by a 
 criminal and unprovoked attack upon Canada, have revived, 
 and are rightly taking their place. The tradition lives, but 
 the feelings begot of it, like the ancient memories of Flod- 
 den and Bannockburn in the motherland, are now aca- 
 demic. In this altered spirit Americans, in their fiction 
 and histories, restore the body and pressure, even the 
 rancours of the time, without offence; whilst Canadians, in 
 
Preface S 
 
 like manner, call to mind the decisive victories which pre- 
 served their liberties. 
 
 Both preface and notes to the drama are, no doubt, 
 superfluous to many home readers; but, as the book is to 
 be published in the Old Country, and as the persons of 
 the drama move in an atmosphere— a domain of Nature's 
 things— unfamiliar to people there, the notes may be read 
 with advantage perhaps before turning to the text, espe- 
 cially as the study in England of Canadian history subse- 
 quent to the Conquest is said to be confined to experts— 
 the general reader being familiar only with the captivating 
 pages of Parkman. Certainly knowledge of such a momen- 
 tous event to Canada as the War of 1812 must be far from 
 common, since its greatest names seem to be unknown. 
 Lieut-Colonel G. T. Denison, in his recent book, " Soldier- 
 ing in Canada," states that "few even of the well-educated 
 people of England have ever heard of Brock, and, if his 
 name is mentioned, the question is generally asked. Who 
 was General Brock?" If such be the case, no doubt 
 Tecumseh is also unknown, yet these are names familiar as 
 household words in the mouths of Canadians. Both were 
 men of transcendent ability, to whose genius and self- 
 sacrifice at the most critical period in her history is due the 
 preservation of Canada to the Empire. At the outbreak of 
 the war numbers of aliens domiciled in the Upper Province 
 had contrived to spread dismay amongst a timid and waver- 
 ing section of the community. It was at this juncture that 
 the bold stroke of Brock and Tecumseh at Detroit electri- 
 fied the people. Both heroes subsequently fell, but not 
 until all Canada, inspired by their example, had resolved 
 to fight it out to the end. It seems strange that well-read 
 Englishmen should be ignorant of this vital record, whose 
 stirring chapters exhibit in the clearest light the spirit and 
 
* Preface 
 
 the springs of action which have made Canada what she 
 15. If the prophetic soul of a wide empire, "dreaming on 
 things to come," is already prefiguring an imperial adjust- 
 ment m which the larger, if not the greater, Britain shall be 
 the outworks, and the mother-country the citadel, it is surely 
 important that she should know something of the history 
 and Idiosyncrasies of her offspring. The habitudes of each 
 colony are Urgely the products of distinct environments 
 which can never be transfused, and must be reckoned with 
 hereafter as constant factors in the interaction of imperial 
 pohtics. Certain it is that, even if the characteristic fea- 
 tures and incidents of Canadian history were unrecorded 
 they would still survive in tradition, and influence for gen- 
 erations, perhaps for ages to come, the feelings and sym- 
 path.« of both sections of her people. Not that thereby 
 they are less true to their institutions; on the contrary, 
 loyalty has crystallized in Canada. Nowhere has judgment 
 been less warped or a people's insight been more clear and 
 penetratmg regarding the great question of a United Empire. 
 Nowhere has public opinion been more instinctively opposed 
 to disintegration. With all her faults, Canada has ever 
 been true to the high ideal. Even when the mother- 
 country seemed ignobly to falter and fall away, she saw in 
 It the indispensable safe-guard, of our common interests, 
 and with enlarged confidence in her own future, looks for- 
 ward to its fulfilment still with abiding faith. For then 
 Canada shall cease to be a dependency, and become a 
 nation. Then shall a whole family of young giants stand 
 
 " Erecl, unboumi, al Britain's side—" 
 her imperial offspring oversea, the upholders in the far 
 future of her glorious tradition, or, should exhaustion ever 
 come, the props and support of her decUning years 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 PART I. 
 
 Tecumseh ; a Drama • • - 1 1 
 The Legend of Chileeli ■ -131 
 A Ballad for Brave Women - 144 
 
 The Last Bison 148 
 
 Missipowistic 154 
 
 The Iroquois at the Stake - 160 
 
 Kanata 164 
 
 Vain Regrets 167 
 
 Open the Bay '. ifig 
 
 PART 
 ■ -S?" 
 
 • "93 
 
 - 196 
 
 - 199 
 
 • 200 
 
 - 203 
 
 - 206 
 
 In Memory of Wm. A. Foster. 
 
 Absence 
 
 The River of Pain ■ - - . 
 
 Cabot 
 
 Demos Tyrannus .... 
 The Recompense 
 
 Ruins 
 
 The Chain igj 
 
 Fulfilment 183 
 
 PAGE 
 
 >7i 
 ■74 
 176 
 178 
 •79 
 180 
 181 
 
 Dreamland . - . 
 The Pines - - - . 
 Address to a Maid - 
 To Mount St. Patrick 
 Innocence - ■ . 
 To a Morning Cloud 
 The North Wind's Tale 
 To a Captured Firefl 
 Night and Morn 
 Ponemah . - ■ 
 Winter . - - 
 Summer - . - 
 To My Photograph 
 
 Notes to Tecumseh - 
 
 II. 
 
 - 211 
 
 ■ "3 
 2i6 
 218 
 221 
 227 
 
 Wood-Notes 
 
 The Morning Land - . . . 
 
 -My Love : a Rhapsody . . 
 
 To the Spirit of Memory . - 
 
 In Memory of Thomas lyArcy 
 
 McGee 
 
 Ideals 
 
 To a Humming-bird . - - 
 Bardolph Redivivus ■ - - 
 
 Germs 
 
 Love's Land --.'.-. 
 
 To an In&nt 
 
 Time 
 
 230 
 233 
 »34 
 »37 
 
 a38 
 242 
 H3 
 a44 
 245 
 246 
 
 248 
 
 NOTES. 
 ■ 251 I Notes to Poems 271 
 
" When 4e white men fim „, foot on our diore,, they were h„n 
 /■«« TlcuMsiH's spuch u, Ike Osaga. 
 
:re hun- 
 a kindle 
 nselves. 
 h tJiem 
 
 TECUMSEH 
 
 A DRAMA 
 
DRAMATIS PERSONS. 
 
 INDIANS. 
 Tbcumsih [Chii/o/lht Skawamits). 
 Thk Prophet {.Bniker of Tccumsch). 
 Tarhay (a Chufin Une mU lata). 
 ST\TISTA{aie/a/Ut ffyani/tls). 
 Miami, Delaware, KicKAPooand Dahcota Chieps. 
 
 '^(lrrurs,Br(mi,Jtsalitt<li<uul/tmturs. 
 Mamaiee ( tVifi „/ Tauiaieh). 
 lEl-A {Men of Tecumsik). 
 Weetamore, Winona, and Mn- Indian MaUtm. 
 \ 
 
 AMERICANS. 
 
 General Harru -n KGavtrmr of Indiana TerrUory) 
 General Hull. 
 Colonel Cass. 
 Barron {an Indian Agent), 
 
 Twang Slaugh, Gerkin and Bloat (Rcgk Citizen, of Vincennes). 
 
 Five Councilor! of Indiana Territory, Officers, Soldier,, 
 
 Volunteers, Orderlies and Scouts. 
 
 BRITISH AND CANADIANS. 
 
 General Brock (Administrator of the Covemmen, of Upper Canada) 
 
 Colonel (,i/i.-K^..,ia;„^„/)PRO(^og '*^ """"'• 
 
 Glkgg, -, 
 
 Macdonell, j ^■^'''"■*-""»P '' General Brock). 
 
 NicHOL, 1 
 
 Baby, L {Colonels of Canadian Volunteers). 
 
 Elliott, / 
 
 McKee, ■» 
 
 Robinson, / ^'-"f '"'>"¥ Canadian Volunteers). 
 
 hEFROUafoet-artist, enamoured of Indian life, and in love with lena). 
 Settlers, Officers, Soldiers, Volunteers, Orderlies and Messengers. 
 
TECUMSEH, 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 SCENE FIRST. -The Forest near the Prophet's 
 Town on the Tippecanoe. 
 
 Enter tht Prophet. 
 Prophet. Twelve moons hive wasted, and no tidings 
 
 Tecumseh must have perished 1 Joy has tears 
 As well as gnef, and mine will freel/C- 
 i^bling our women's piteous privilege- 
 Whilst dry ambition ambles to its ends 
 My schemes have swelled to greatness, and my name 
 Has flown so far upon the wings of fe^r ^ 
 That nations tremble at its utterance. 
 Uur braves abhor, yet stand in awe of me, 
 
 Anrt nn'^f 'T" °"' <=°"'"'«ne with Heaven 
 And ope or shut the gloomy doors of death. 
 All feelings and all seasons suit ambition ! 
 vet my vindictive nature hath a craft. 
 In action slow, which matches mother-earth's • 
 ^st seed-time-then the harvest of revenge ' 
 Who works for power, and not the good of men 
 Not n T*" "T ^^ '"" """ '°»« by love. ' 
 AnH fn7"!,T''~™*'"S *° his ends. 
 And followed by men's love-whose vekr foes 
 Trust him the most Rash fool ! Him do I dread 
 And his imperious spirit. Twelve infant moons 
 
" Tecumieh. ^ct ,. 
 
 AnT.rir"*/^'''""/?'"" "'" 'hese woods, 
 Wk- u 1? "'''"8» °f ''■s enterprise, 
 Which-all too deep and wide-has swallowed him 
 And left me here unrivalled and alone ' 
 
 £Hkr an Indian Runner. 
 
 Run JiT v™f k"'^'' '" >''"" ey«-what now ? 
 
 An^rs'hJXtl^^nfr h':^rf • "- -'""'«^' 
 To counsel with you here. 
 
 Prophet. h» k.. ^ [^fit Jlunner. 
 
 So then the growing current of l^ ^.T""^ ' 
 Must fall again into the stately str^m 
 Of his great purpose. But a moment past 
 Mv hrl^""" ^'"'""°"> ''^'fht, and now 
 
 Th?, T ^\" '" u" """^ I ^"°^ his thoughts- 
 That I am but a helper to his ends; 
 nf h 7"f 'L'?"? "°' * whirlpool in my soul 
 I Lof. H "'"'''' "°''''* f*'" ingulf our foes, 
 t«amst his simplicity, and win the lead. 
 
 R^ wh!'!; ^ ™T^' ' ^ ""■'' assume the role 
 By which I pander to his purposes. 
 
 ■Eater Tecumseh. 
 
 PROPHErT^''p " l''?,^S',-,^'"8 in the darkened robes? 
 
 i-ROPHET. The Prophet ! Olliwayshilla, who nrobes 
 The spint-world, and holds within his IceA ^ 
 Th! I n"'V^ *"<*, f.he fateful deeds of men. 
 
 T.n,?"^*'^^i u ^'•°"'" '° 'he Shooting Star- 
 
 Tecumseh. With heart of wax, and hand's not made for 
 
 Prophet. Would that my hands were equal to my hate < 
 Then would strange vengeance traffic on the earth '^ ' 
 
 For I should treat our foes to what they crave- 
 
TECf.MSKH 
 
SCCNE I. 
 
 Tecunueh 
 
 Our fruitfiil loil-ye.. nm it down their thrcti. 
 And choke them with the very dirt they lov^^ 
 Ti. you, Tecumieh I You are here at law. 
 And welcome a> the strong heatbearing Spring 
 
 What tiding! from afar ? * 
 
 Tecumseh. Good tidingi thence ! 
 
 I have not Men the Wyandot^ but all 
 llie disunt nations will unite with us 
 ro spurn the fraudful treaties of Fort Wayne 
 From Talapoosa to the Harricanaw 
 I have aroused them from their lethargy. 
 From the hot gulf up to those confinej rude, 
 Where Summer's sides are pierced with icicles, 
 They stand upon my call. What tidings here ? 
 
 W^-^t^^- ^° '"*"'' ^ ""«='' '0 ba^k our enterprise 
 Which grows on every side. The Prophet's robe,^ 
 That I assumed when old Pengasega died- ^ 
 With full accord and countenance :rom you— 
 Fits a strong shoulder ampler far than his ; 
 And all our people follow me in fear. 
 
 My ears are open to my brother's tongue 
 
 PrSlfrj? T. ^ "If? '"'"^"- *"'^ ''J' '»if' meisengers. 
 Proclaimed to all the nations far and near, 
 
 I am. the Open-Door, and have the power 
 To lead them back to life. The sacred fire 
 Must burn forever in the red-man's lodge, 
 Else will that life go out. All earthly goil. 
 By the Great Spirit meant for common use 
 Must so be held. Red shall not marry white. 
 To lop our parent stems ; and never more 
 Must vile, habitual cups of deadliness 
 Uistort their noble natures, and unseat 
 The purpose of their souls. They must return 
 
 nL, iV T "' •'' '"""'• »■«> '°'" ''O* "ife and child, 
 Nor lift a hat,a m wrath against their race. 
 
 U 
 
'* Tecunuch act i. 
 
 And nunjr mtioni have adopted them 
 And made them law. 
 
 r^"*^^' , . TI>«»ecounteUwereyourownl 
 
 Good in themielves, they are too «eak to iway 
 
 Uur (ickie race. I've much improved on them 
 
 Since the Great Spirit took me by the hand. 
 Tecumseh. Improved I and how ? Your million wai 
 to lead 
 
 Our erring people back to ancient ways— 
 
 Too long oergrown— not bloody lacriflce. 
 
 They tell me that the priionen you have ta'en— 
 
 Not captivei in fair fight, but wandereri 
 
 Bewildered irt our woods, or luch as till 
 
 Outlying fields, caught from the peaceful plough— 
 
 You cruelly have tortured at the itake. 
 
 Nor thii the wont I In ^rder to augment 
 
 Your gloom" sway you craftily have played 
 
 Upon the zeal and frenzy of our tribes, 
 And, in my absence, hatched a monstrous charge 
 Of sorcery amongst them, which hath spared 
 Nor feeble age nor sex. Such horrid deeds 
 Recoil on us ! Old Shataronra'i grave 
 m^^' "P "» gho". «nd Tetaboxti's bain— 
 White with sad years and counsel— linged by you I 
 In dreams and nightmares, flo.; on every breeze. 
 Ambitions madness might stop short of this. 
 And shall if I have life. 
 
 Prophet. The Spirit Great 
 
 Hath urged me, and still urges me to all. 
 He puts his hand to mine and leadi- me on. 
 Do you not hear him whisper even now— 
 "Thou art the Prophet?" All our followers 
 Behold in me a greater than yourself, 
 And worship me, and venture where I lead 
 
 Tecumseh Your fancy is the coni.non slip of fools, 
 who count the lesser greater being near. 
 
SCENE I. 
 
 Tecimueh 
 
 •S 
 
 Dupe of rour own impottura and detignt, 
 
 Henceforth muit be mr lubject i lo tUe hee* ' 
 And .tend within my nncUon leM n>u fall 
 
 ZliHr "• '^•~'»*'>-el., you .hould choke 
 
 «>•• I T ^ .f L . . [Cretus Iht slatt and tauus. 
 
 Trf/Lii'. "• *?i ' 'J?"'" ■«« «««k with him- 
 
 /nn"! S^"."- '■"«>*''» tender part, 
 
 And I ihall touch it r z> 
 
 ^ ^ Brother, let me ..k. ^ '''""• 
 
 Do you remember how our father fell ? 
 
 H« JfSS"f!:"I; ^? "?" '?'»*' K*™"!"''* bloody fray? 
 He died for home m battle with the whitei. ' 
 
 When*'r!!^.;,1tll1r" ""•"'«'. «°o. «l«t boyiah morn 
 vvnen all our bravet were abient on the chate— 
 inat morn when you and I halfKlreamine Uy 
 
 Of loud-blcwn bugle, ringing through the air. 
 Wlh t™r„~' """ ?'<*««« from the woodm 
 AnHi.-?£ "^'' ""i"*^ "houting, manifold. 
 Of ?™^~.!L°'"**' ""^ *'"' bnndiihed .words. 
 Of frontier trooper, eager for the fight 
 ^IfSi"".!' 'y'"','»»e Kreened itwlf from .ight, 
 »o nidden the atUck-yet, trembling there, * 
 
 AnT^!^"' "'! "'"ghter of .mall babe and crone 
 And pal.ied grandsire-you remember it ? ' 
 
 Of Th« J^flfi; *'"",?'"'*' i' ' AI«», the echoing 
 Of that wild havoc lingers in my brain i 
 
 o wretched age, and injured motherhood. 
 Anc hapless maiden-wreck ! 
 
 oJrZi^, history, and it is th^'' '"" ''" '^" 
 Which craras my very veins with cruelty. 
 My pulses bound to see those devils fall 
 
 Mto the':o7'"' ""' '""' ''°'»^" -' 
 
i6 
 
 Tecumseh 
 
 oJ™ unspeakable. But J^te o'u^own" '"^'- 
 These gloomy sacrifices sap our strength : 
 And henceforth from your wizard scrutinies 
 
 v™''h'^f/°" '° ^■'^."- ^"' "''°'s 'he white 
 You hold as captive ? 
 
 Prophet. h^ j, „^ Lefrov— 
 
 A captive, but too free to come and go 
 
 HU f!!;!l"r ' k'""L'''^.,'?" ^y "^h*"™. »nd found 
 His tent close by the Wabssh. where he lay 
 With sprainfed ankle, foodless and alone. 
 He had a book of pictures with him there 
 Ul Long-Knife forts, encampments and their chiefs- 
 Most recognizable ; so, reasoning thence 
 Our warriors took him for a daring spy, ' 
 And brought him here, and tied him to the stake. 
 1 hen he declared he was a Saganash— 
 No Long-Knife he ! but one who loved our race 
 And would adopt our ways-with honeyed words. 
 Couched in sweet voice, and such appealing eyes 
 That Icna, our niece— who listened near— 
 Believing, rushed, and cut him from the tree 
 
 AM't^'u ""*'■ 5°" w^yS' »nd smooth-paced tread. 
 
 And would, ere now, have killed him but for her ■ 
 
 For ever since, unmindful of her race 
 
 She has upheld him, and our women think 
 
 1 hat he has won her heart. 
 Tecumseh But not her hand I 
 
 I his cannot be, and I must see to it : 
 
 Red shall not marry white— such is our law 
 ^ut graver matters are upon the wing. 
 Which I must open to you. Know you, then. 
 The nation that has doomed our Council-Fires- 
 Splashed with our blood— will on its Father tiirn 
 Once moie, whose lion-paws, stretched o'er the sea, 
 W 1 sheathe their nails in its unnatural sides, 
 lill blood will flow, as free as pitch in spring, 
 i o gum the chafed seams of our sinking baric 
 
SCENE I. 
 
 Tecumseh 
 
 '7 
 
 This opportunity, well nursed, will give 
 
 A respite to our wrongs, and heal our wounds • 
 
 And all our nations, knit by me and ranged 
 
 In headship with our Saganash allies, 
 
 wm turn the mortal issue 'gainst our foes. 
 
 But tnf h^^"-'^'^*^*"^'^ ''°"''^" "''h 'heir slain. 
 But till that ripened moment, not a sheaf 
 Of arrows should be wasted, not a brave 
 bhould pensh aimlessly, nor discord reign 
 Amongst our tribes, nor Jealousy distrain 
 The laj^e effects of valour. We must now 
 Pack all our energies. Our eyes and ears 
 No more must idle with the hour, but work 
 As carriers to the brain, where we shall store 
 AS m an arsenal, deep schemes of war ! 
 
 But who is this ? f '^ """' "'"' '^"""'"^ ""■'■*'""'• 
 
 [E«/„r S^KO^ a«<,mpa«eji and half dra^^ged by v,arHors. 
 The Prophet gees forward to ntt . him. 
 
 Barron. I crave protection as a messenger 
 And agent sent by General Harrison. 
 Your rude, unruly braves, against my wish. 
 Have dragged me here as if I were a spy 
 
 Prophet. What else! Why come you here if not a 
 spyr 
 
 Brouillette came, and Dubois, who were snies- 
 Now you are here. Look on it! There's your grave ! 
 
 yPointins to the ground at Barron's feet. 
 Tecumseh. (Joining them.) Nay, let him be ! This 
 
 man is not a spy. 
 (To Barron.) Give me your message i 
 Barron. The Governor of Indi.na sends 
 This letter to you, in the which he says (Reading ieller) 
 You are an enemy to the Seventeen Fires. ' 
 
 i have been told that you intend to lift 
 
I8- 
 
 Tecumseh 
 
 The hatchet gainst your father, the great Chief, 
 Whose goodness, being greater than his fear 
 
 Or anger at your folly, still would stretch 
 
 His bounty to his children who repent, 
 
 And ask of him forgiveness for the past. 
 
 Small harm is done which may not be repaired 
 
 And fnendship's broken chain may be renewed • 
 
 But this IS m your doing, and depends 
 
 Upon the choice you make. Two roads 
 
 Are lying now before you : ei.^. is large, 
 
 Open and pleasant, leading unto peace,' 
 
 Your own security and happiness ; 
 
 The other— narrow, crooked and constrained- 
 Most surely leads to misery and death. 
 
 Be not deceived ! All your united force 
 
 Is but as chaff before the Seventeen Fires. 
 
 Your warriors are brave, but so are ours ; 
 
 Whilst ours are countless as the forest leaves 
 
 Or grains of sand upon the Wabash shores. 
 
 Rely not on the English to protect you ! 
 
 They are not able to protect themselves 
 They will not war with us, for, if they do, 
 Ere many moons have passed our battle flag 
 Shall wave o'er all the forts of Canada. 
 What reason have you to complain of us ? 
 What have we taken? or what treaties maimed? 
 Vou tell us we have robbed you of your lands- 
 Bought them from nameless braves and village chiefs 
 Who had no right to sell. Prove that to us. 
 And they will be restored. I have full power 
 To treat with you. Bring your complaint to me. 
 And I, in honour, pledge your safe return." 
 1 ECUMSEH. Is this it all ? 
 
 Barron. Yes, all. I have commands 
 
 lo bear your answer back without delay. 
 
 Prophet. This is our answer, then, to Harrison ■ 
 (.rij tell that bearded liar we shall go 
 With forces which will pledge our own return ^ 
 
SCENE I. 
 
 Tecumseh 
 
 •9 
 
 Tecumseh. What shall my answer be ? 
 Prophet. wu.. n 
 
 There is no answer save that we shaX' "" °'"'~ 
 
 ITtrSeef' ^'""""-^ ' ''" '"'' °"^ '='™P'»'"' •-» 
 For your Chiefs curing. The Great Spirit gave 
 The red men t.-.is wide continent as the' s 
 And m the east another to the white ■ 
 Bu^ not conten. at home, these crossed the sea 
 And drove ou. athers from their ancient seats 
 1 heir sons m turn are driven to the Ultes 
 And cannot farther go unless they drown. 
 Yet now you take upon yourselves to say 
 this tract is Kickapoo, this Delaware, 
 And this Miami ; but your Chief should know 
 1 hat all our lands are common to our race ' 
 How can one nation sell the rights of all 
 Without consent of all? No! For my part 
 I am a Red Man, not a Shawanoe, 
 
 *aI;^ ^TJ "'^1 ','? "^y- ^° '° yof chief, 
 And tell him I shall meet him at Vincennes. 
 
 ^1,. . . [-£■■*<»«'«/' A./ Tecumseh. 
 
 What IS there in my nature so supine 
 
 That I must ever quarrel with revenge? 
 
 From vales and rivers which were once our own 
 
 ihe pale hounds who uproot our ancient graves 
 
 Come whining for our lands, with fawning tongues, 
 
 And schemes and subterfuge and subtleties. 
 
 U for a Pontiac to drive them back 
 
 And whoop them to their shuddering villages ' 
 
 for an age of valour like to his. 
 When freedom clothed herself with solitude. 
 And one in heart the scattered nations stood, 
 And one m hand. It comes ! and mine shall be 
 The lofty task to teach them to be free— 
 
 1 o kmt the nations, bind them into one, 
 And end the task great Pontiac begun ! 
 
20 
 
 Tecumseh 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 SCENE SECOND.-.a.o™h.P.„o,,„,,,,^, 
 Fadeless aslove a ^d'.ruth '".t f' ''"T"' «"«• 
 
 Take kve?"";"' ""=^""8. when he'un 
 
 pLast^;t.i^r:,,ri«^^-°~^'- 
 
 They dwarfme „u'h S J,'!:', ''"'="''f<'S« °f ">e pas.? 
 And not. vorced from her like men who plod 
 
^^"- Tecumseh ^, 
 
 The weary streets of care in search of gain. 
 And here I feel the friendship of the earth • 
 Not the soft cloying tenderness of hand 
 Which fam would satiate the hungry soul 
 With household honey combs and parloured sweets, 
 But the strong friendship of primeval things— 
 Ihe rugged kindness of a giant heart, 
 And love that lasts. 
 
 U7u:.i, J .u „ ' ^^^^ ^ poem made 
 
 Which doth concern Earth's injured majesty- 
 Be audience, ye still untroubled stems ! 
 
 u,k*'"°i.*f' " "'"'•' °" '*"'* '"' contiiK-nl 
 VVhen all things throve in spacious peacefuliw'w 
 I he prosperous forests unmolested stood, 
 
 ^or where the stalwart oak grew there it lived 
 
 Long ages, and then died among its kind. 
 
 rhe hoary pines— those ancients of the earth— 
 
 Urimful of legends of the early world, 
 
 .StiXKl thick on their own mountains unsubdued. 
 
 Ana all things else illumined by the sun 
 
 Inland or by the lifted wave, had rest. 
 
 The passionate or calm pageants of the .skies 
 
 [>o artist drew ; but in the auburn west 
 
 Innumerable faces of fair cloud 
 
 Vanished in silent darkness with the day. 
 
 The prairie realm— vast ocean's paraphrase— 
 
 Kich in wild grasses numberless, and flowers 
 
 Unnamed save in mute Nature's inventory 
 ^o civilized barbarian trenched for gain. 
 And all that flowed was sweet and uncorrupl 
 The rivers and their Irioutary streams, 
 Undammed, wound on forever, and gave up 
 Their lonely torrents to weird gulfs of .sea, 
 And ocean wastes unshadowed by a sail' 
 And all the wild life of this western world 
 Knew not the fear of man j yet in those wood.. 
 And by those plenteous streams and mighty lakes 
 .\nd on stupendous steppes of peerless plain. 
 And m the rocky gloom of canyons deep, 
 ?i^!^';'^?°'' '''' ""^ *'"">' "'^ of mountains hoar 
 Which steeped their snowy peaks in purging cloud, 
 Ann down the continent where tropic suns 
 
 ! i 
 
23 
 
 Tecumseh 
 
 (.'■■..= ~. I . "" sunournt savage frcf 
 
 An^tt;/pS:^%^^^:--P»'n 'He, eaves- 
 
 ^»fer Iena, dmvncasl. 
 
 What ! Iena in tear! i v„ i '^f'' 'P"* ' ""y 'ov« ! 
 O'erspread my jo^^hich but at'n "''" '='°'«'^' 
 Rose like thejsi/tohig'h ''Z^i^T''' "^'^ 
 
 Lefrov FaSwell ? T h T^J" '"^-farewell. 
 
 For you are Liriid i t; ::^ rai" '"'' '" ""'' ^ 
 
 Iena 'h '**""• =" ">ot.sa„d^imes ferewell 
 -Hf^^-S^S^^-'-ceyour. 
 
 A d^fi. fh'at parts'^' bmlT ""^"^ ' '^'^ "<« 
 
 Tecumseh has returned, and-k„owi'n"a 1 '^^' "°"- 
 Has bu.l ta barrier b..twixt our love, ^ 
 More ng,d than a palisade of oak 
 
Tecumseh 
 
 Lefroy. What means he ? And what barrier is this ? 
 
 Iena. The barrier is the welfare of our race 
 
 Wherefore his law— "Red shall not marry white." 
 His noble nature halts at cruelty, 
 So fear him not ! But in the Prophet's hand, 
 Dark, dangerous and bloody, there is death, 
 And, sheltered by Tecumseh's own decree, 
 He who misprizes you, and hates, will strike- 
 Then go at once ! Alas for lena. 
 Who loves her race too well to break its law. 
 
 Lefroy. I love you better than I love my rdce ; 
 And could I mass my fondness for my friends. 
 Augment it with my love of noble bri'.tes. 
 Tap every spring of reverence and respect. 
 And all affections bright and beautiful — 
 
 Still would my love for you outweigh them all. 
 Iena. Speak not of love ! Speak of the Long-Knife's 
 hate! 
 
 Oh, it is pitiful to creep in fear 
 
 O'er lands where once our fathers slept in pride ! 
 
 The Long-Knife strengthens, whilst our race decays. 
 
 And falls before him as our forests fall. 
 
 First comes his pioneer, the bee, and soon 
 
 The mast which plumped the wild deer fats his swine. 
 
 His cattle pasture where the bison fed ; 
 
 His flowers, his very weeds, displace our own — 
 
 Aggressive as himself. All, all thrust back ! 
 
 Destruction follows us, and swift decay. 
 
 Oh, I have lain for hours upon the grass, 
 
 And gazed into the tenderest blue of heaven- 
 Cleansed as with dew, so limpid, pure and sweet 
 
 All flecked with silver packs of standing cloud 
 
 Most beautiful ! But watch them narrowly ! 
 
 Those clouds will sheer small fleeces from their sides, 
 
 Which, melting in our sight as in a dream, 
 
 Will vanish all like phantoms in the sky. 
 
 So melts our heedless race ! Some weaned away, 
 
 And wedded to rough-handed pioneers, 
 
 !iS 
 
»4 
 
 Tecunueh 
 
 And a„ ,„ ,,i,,„ from .he 'h^^"' ="?• 
 Far from our fathers' <»!». .~j K ! 
 
 And own Tecumseh right 'T^^h i 
 Can ,tem thi, tide ofsir ow, dark and "/ 
 So must I hend my feebk T mt "hf,"" "'"^ ' 
 
 ll. A°°? ""^P"" '" it. to your rare 
 Whore^ea5'isrrri;,Sti'' -"^^^-ed maid. 
 
 sof^^^^/^:°^s^'^i-i:^; 
 
 (Iena rt«^j.) 
 
 F''>' far from me, 
 
 . ^7" »» the daylii-hi flies, 
 
 Hy fai from me, 
 
 tre thy l,ps burn me in a last caress ,• 
 
 ACT I. 
 
SCENE II. 
 
 Tecumaeh 
 
 Ere fancy qulckoii, and my loncinra preu. 
 
 And my weak spirit haitn "^ 
 
 For shelter unto ifice I 
 
 Fly far from me. 
 
 Even whilst the daylight pules— 
 So shall we never, never meet again I 
 Hy 1 for my senses swim— Oh, Love ! Oh, Poin •- 
 
 Help ! for my spirit fails— 
 I cannot fly from thee ! 
 
 »s 
 
 [Iena sinks into Lefrov's arms. 
 
 LKFRoy. No, lena ! You cannot fly from me- 
 My hMrt IS in your breast, and yours in mine • 
 1 nerefore our love — 
 
 £>iierTECVMSE.H,/oi/tni>ttify Mamatee. 
 
 w'^M^r^'J-u . False girl! Is this your promise ? 
 Would that I had a pale-face for a niecM— 
 ah'^"";* '° f*"i!'«s to her pledge ! You owe 
 All duty and aflection to your race, 
 Whose interest— the sura of our desires- 
 Traversed by alien love, drops to the ground 
 
 lENA. Tecumseh ne'er was cruel until now. 
 Call not love alien which includes our race- 
 Love for our people, pity for their wrongs I 
 He loves our race because his heart is here— 
 And mine is in his breast. Oh, ask him there. 
 And he will tell you — 
 
 Lefrov. lena, let me speak ! 
 
 Tecumseh, we as strangers have become 
 Strangely familiar through sheer circumstance. 
 Which often breeds affection or disdain, 
 Yet, lighting but the surface of the man 
 Shows not his heart. I know not what you think 
 And care not lor your favour or your love 
 Save as derert may crown me. Your decree, 
 
 Ked shall not marry white," is arbitrary, 
 And off the base of nature ; for if they 
 
i6 
 
 Tecumseh 
 
 .« T I. 
 
 Bejnerciful! 1 .,k „o, le„r"- 
 
 Blunting the edge of ani^ ^"^ """' ''P™="=''' 
 A. eve. I have'^^eri;,' VurTffectfi: '"'^''«~"'"' ""'- 
 
 «:« teeter," r «^ --" p"- 
 
 TecuL 'a My nat on h^"' . ''^"'''' '°«- 
 W.h,pecialse&red\7y^^^^^^^ 
 
 Mamatep Th- w'"?"^' "P°" ™y race. 
 
 MAMATEE. The back is cIad-,L hean. ala.! goe. 
 
 Oh I would rather shiver in the snow 
 ■tteepXldllf '"" ^-"" '-- 
 
 I knowyoffii;''wrde:rd!%sr ^"'• 
 
 Share but a millionth par't of t. and feel 
 
 Ardteran':rhe:''°''=''-««'-''°^'°ve. 
 
 Tecumseh. ,. 
 
 Vou know not what you ast T- f^"""' ''* ' 
 Which, breached wouW L, ^" ^a'nst our law, 
 
 LKrkov. lte"rf<^^';o";,reMat'?^T'H 'r°"«''- 
 the S, "^""^ "°" "■« '«> '■ This child-s play of 
 
Tecumseh 
 
 27 
 
 Which iterner duty hu reprened in me, 
 
 Make* even captives bold. (Aside.) 1 liVe hit courage ! 
 
 Mamatee. If duty makes Tecumseh's heart grow cold, 
 Then shame on it ! and greater shame on him 
 Who ever yet showed mercy to his foes, 
 Yet, turning from his own, in pity's spite 
 Denies it to a girl. See, here I kneel ! 
 Iena. And I ! O uncle, frown not on our love I 
 Tecumseh. By the Great Spirit this is over much I 
 My heart is made for picy, not for war, 
 Since women's tears unman me. Have your will 1 
 I shall respect your love, {To Lefrov.) your safety toa 
 I go at once to sound the Wyandots 
 Concerning some false treaties with the whites. 
 The Prophet hates you, therefore come with me. 
 
 [Tie Prophet msies in wilh a band of Braves. 
 Prophet. She's here I Take hold of her and bear her 
 
 off I 
 Tecumseh. Beware ! I^y not a finger on the girl 1 
 [TAe Brmes /aU taei. 
 Prophet. There is no law Tecumseh will .lot break, 
 When women weep, and paleface spies deceive. 
 Mamatee. Ah, wretch ! not all our people's groans 
 could wring 
 A single tear from out your murderous eye. 
 
 Prophet. (Lifting his axe.) This is my captive, and his 
 
 life is mine ! 
 Iena. (Rushing to Lefrov.) Save him ! Save him ! 
 
 [Tecumseh interferes. 
 
 \''h 
 
 KND OF FIRST ACT. 
 
f 
 
 ACT n. 
 
 SCENE FIRST.-Bk.oue t„. p,opk„'s Town. 
 
 ^f'tr Tecumseh amd LEtgov 
 
 THCUMSEH. No guard or outlook here. This i. .o.. 
 
 Chance reigns where prudence .leept 
 
 £ii/ef a Brave. 
 
 H,ddli„g in fear. sUn'd ,SnIe1 ' ^.ThoT'' 
 
 £SHiSF^:«^^ao.„. 
 
 Bu. bei„7f:iretvZt°;hr;:,'^:[er '"^^ 
 
 Cotruntwth^"h^r^°"-''^^t 
 Hj'rn™"'^"- ?"■" ^f*'"' 8^"' and good ■ 
 
 "Ke petty hailstones, from our naked breasts • 
 
 28 ' 
 
Kvit 1. Tecumteli t 
 
 And, in the miUy morni of our attack, 
 
 Strange lights will ihine on ihem to guide our aim, 
 
 VVhiUt cloudii o( gloom will screen us (rom tlieir tight. 
 
 TICUMSEH. The Piophet it a wise interpreter. 
 And all hit words, by vaL^ur backed, will ttand ; 
 For valour is the weapon o( the soul, 
 More dreaded by our vaunting enemies 
 Than the plumed arrow, or ihe screaming ball. 
 What wizardry and witchcraft hot he found 
 Conspiring 'gainst our people's good ? 
 
 ,„.B«y^^ . ^ Why, none! 
 
 Wizard and witch are weeded out, he says ; 
 Not one is left to do us hurt. 
 
 Tecumseh. (AtiVe.) 'Tis well * 
 
 My brother has the eyeball of the horse. 
 And swerves from danger. (To Brave.) Bid our warriors 
 
 cornel 
 I wait them here. 
 
 ^ ^ [£xit Brave. 
 
 The ProtMet soon will follow. 
 
 Lefrov. Now opportunity attend my heart, 
 Which waits for lena I True loves behest. 
 Outrunning war's, will bring her to my arms 
 Ere cease the braves from gasping wonderment. 
 
 Tecumskh. First look on service ere you look on love • 
 You shall not see her here. 
 
 LEFRoy. My promises 
 
 Are sureties of my service — 
 
 Tecumseh. But your deeds, 
 
 ■Accomplishments ; our people count on deeds. 
 Be patient I Look upon our warriors 
 Roped round with scars and cicatrized wounds. 
 Inflicted in deep trial of their spirit. 
 Their skewered sides are proofs of manly souls, 
 Which, had one groan escaped from agony, 
 Would all have sunk beneath our women's ' ;ls, 
 Unfit for earth or heaven. So try your ht 
 .\nd let endurance swallow all love's sighs. 
 
 1 J. 
 
30 
 
 Tecumseh 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 A^H V 1°",' ""'"^ *"•' °"' people's cause 
 When'Hl^° 'r ^°"': "'"'■°"- «hi<* is j^s" 
 R„ !n ■ f ' *^^'"'" "• «■"' 'dopt you here 
 
 InX'of.his.. Vour own hand firs. 
 
 UfroTv I' overgoes with truth! 
 
 Le«ok Now come some wind of chance and show 
 
 Miami CHiEr. Fall back J ^a[l tck -"' V^"" ' 
 close on him. " P'^^s too 
 
 Tecumseh. My friends ! our jov is HW^ .„ ^ .• 
 streams, ■'™ ""^ '° meeting 
 
 Which draw into a deep and prouder bed 
 
 And made their hosts a winter's feast for wolves ' 
 I call on you to follow me again, " ' 
 
 Not now for war, but as forearmed for fight 
 As ever in the past so is it still • ^ 
 
 Our sacred treaties are infringed and torn • 
 Laughed out of sanctity, and spurned away ■ 
 Used by the Long-Knife's slave to light his fir. 
 Or turned to kites by thoughtless bo^,,' whosj^rists 
 
SCENE I. Ter.jiiiac! 
 
 Anchor their father's lies ip Vu ' of heovc -— 
 And now we're asked to Co ioc ii at Vi.ice .nes ■ 
 To bend to lawless ravage ot cur iauiii,, ' 
 
 To treacherous bargains, contracts false, wherein 
 One side is bound, the other loose as air ! 
 AVhere are those villains of our race and blood 
 Who signed the treaties that unseat us here ; 
 That rob us of rich plains and forests wide ; ' 
 And which, consented to, will drive us hence 
 To stage our lodges in the Northern Lakes, 
 In penalties of hunger worse than death ' 
 Where are they? that we may confront them now 
 VVith your wronged sires, your mothers, wives and babes, 
 And, wrmgmg from their false and slavish lips 
 Confession of their baseness, brand with shame 
 The traitor hands which sign us to our graves 
 Miami Chief. Some are age-bent and blind, and others 
 
 And stagger in the Long-Knife's villages ; 
 And some are dead, and some have fled away 
 And some are lurking in the forest here, 
 Sneaking, like dogs, until resentment cools. 
 
 KiCKAPOO Chief. We all disclaim their treaties. Should 
 
 they come, 
 Forced from their lairs by hunger, to our doors 
 bwift punishment will light upon their heads. ' 
 Tecumseh. Put yokes upon them ! let their mouths be 
 
 bound ! 
 For they are sivine who root with champing jaws 
 Their fathers' fields, and swallow their own offspring. 
 
 Enter the Pkophet in his roit— his face discoloured. 
 Welcome, my brother, from the lodge of dreams ' 
 Hail to thee, sagest among men— great heir 
 Ut all the wisdom of Pengasega ! 
 Prophet. (Aside.) This pale-face here again ! this hate- 
 ful snake. 
 
 lili] 
 
 t : . 
 
3» 
 
 Tecumseh 
 
 f ! 
 
 I ■ ■ 
 
 I: 
 
 ACT II. 
 from m^^f"-^ ^°" ^reefng. brother. ,ak„ ,he chill 
 
 wh;p^u^^rhK„rtr--""■ «^''"- 
 Czr^^l"r ^"°^ '"«"«' fr- fire- 
 In wS:fpIt^al^-^^^^^^ -' '>'- "P. 
 
 M/SeT.h3e11X"d "rrf"^^^'°-'^'^ ^ 
 That aught befell tolakrouTp/o^^ofe" "' 
 
 We have too vast a quarrel on our handf 
 To waste our breath on this. 
 
 Prophet. ^'^"'liZT''^'' """^ "-^""^ ^" '"'"i- 
 
 "Sd^r---1e«:K^hetare 
 
 Mjss:^';hXntror%,^!:tr''— ^y. 
 
 My'^^V into'hls-rea^r. ^"'^ -' -'^t^- wY„^''°^-> 
 
 Prophet 
 (A,Vii.) I must dissemble wI'ihThT."'''? "^ '''"'' ' 
 
 fheir trys IS here, and some will go with me 
 
 ^nd With , he peace-pSfbisf.?: hTtr ^"^""^'' 
 And whiffs away our lives. ' 
 
Tecumseh 
 
 33 
 
 Wifh"if„^H°° ^"'"u T''« Deaf.Chief, too, 
 
 With head awry, who cannot hear us speak 
 Though thunder shouted for us from the skies, 
 \et hears the LongKnives whisper at Vincennes : 
 And, when they jest upon our miseries, 
 (.rips his old leathern sides, and coughs with laughter. 
 
 w^oung!!!'" ^"^ "'" K»-">"'»-f'"ne'd wh'n we 
 Has hid his axe, and washed his honours off 
 rZfTf" "^"'^''ono■"• he has parted with, not honours • 
 Good deeds are ne'er forespent, nor wiped away 
 I know these men ; they've lost their followers 
 And, grasping at the shadow of command, ' 
 Where sway and custom once had realty 
 By times, and turn about, follow each other 
 They count for nought-but Winnemac is true. 
 Though over-politic ; he will not leave us. 
 
 °o"ce!^''°'*'''^*"'^'' ^"^^^^ ■""'' ^^ destroyed at 
 TECtjMSEH. Have mercy, brother-those poor men are 
 
 ^^°7eWe'^^^' ^ '''^" '^^'^ "'^ ''" ""^y ^'■"g 'hcm- 
 Their rusty fangs are doubly dangerous. 
 
 Tecumsfx .Vhai warriors are ready for Vincennes? 
 _ Warriors. All! All are ready. ^ennesr 
 
 Tecumseh leaii ■ us on— we follow him. 
 
 \n^^^^r\ Fc-ir hundred warriors will go with me. 
 All armed, yet only for security 
 Against the deep designs of Harrison. 
 i'or tis my purpose still to temporize. 
 Not lightly break with him till once again 
 I scour the far emplacements of our tribes. 
 1 hen shall we close at once on all our foes. 
 1 hey claim our lands, but we shalUake their lives ; 
 Uriye out their thievish souls, and spread their boner 
 I o bleach upon the misty Alleghanies ; 
 Or make death's treaty with them on the spot 
 
 ': i 
 
 i 
 
54 
 
 Tecumseh 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 Fof£^^Tu°°,^^ ""''' "P"" ">«r crowns 
 
 oTMLLn^"?^"'^-^'^'""^ *"« enough 
 w, ^^^J?"^ 'hey covet for their grav« 
 
 ''" cifer- ^""" -«- is housed in .isdon.. 
 His valour and his prudence march together 
 
 »--- CH,... .Tis wise to dra^h^^distant nations 
 rius scheme will so extend the Lone-Knifp fnr^. 
 In lines defensive stretching to the sea ^ ^"'^^• 
 
 S"t How'?"' "°"'^'^ '" °" "raves. 
 
 ■ KOP^x. How long must this bold project take to 
 
 Time marches with the foe, and his surveyors 
 Alreaay smudge our forests with their fires 
 It frets my blood and makes my bowelsTum 
 cX' ' Ri^hH .f «"■? '""^^ <•"■■ ancient oLs. 
 
 w^n^itLra-J^oStre'r^^' ''-''■ 
 
 Ie"hirl7'"' '°^'" 'r "^■■S''"- "ffairf ' "°" ' 
 Be this the disposition for the hour • 
 
 Receive each fresh accession to our sTren«h • 
 
 Draw '°? ■"' '"•''*^" """> 'hir/ou Tnle'ct 
 Uraw a divine instruction for their souls. '^^ 
 Oo, now, ye noble chiefs and warriors ' 
 Make preparation-l'll be with you soon 
 
 InTZIV^ """ """"^ "'^ Wabash boil, 
 And beat its current, racing to Vincennes. 
 
 Prophet S "',"'' "" '^'"™'^" """^ '*' »''«'-«^^- 
 ^nTZr ■' I * u '*'""'" ""»° <»"■ sacred lodge 
 And there invoke the Spirit of the Wind 
 
 Jf' 
 
 m 
 
Tecumseh 
 
 35 
 
 To follow you, and blow good tidings back. 
 
 Tecumseh. Our strait is such we need the help of 
 heaven. 
 Use all your wisdom, brother, but — beware ! 
 Pluck not our enterprise while it is green. 
 And breed no quarrel here till I return. 
 Avoid it as you would the rattling snake ; 
 And, when you hear the sound of danger, shrink, 
 And face it not, unless with belts of peace. 
 White wampum, not the dark, till we can strike 
 With certain aim. Can I depend on you ? 
 
 Prophet. Trust you in fire to burn, or cold to freeze ? 
 So may you trust in me. The heavy charge 
 Which you have laid upon my shoulders now 
 Would weigh the very soul of rashness down. 
 
 [£xi/ tht Prophet. 
 
 Tecum,seh. I think I can depend on him — I must : 
 Yet do I know his crafty nature we'l — 
 His hatred of our foes, his love of self. 
 And wide ambition. What is mortal man ? 
 Who can divine this creature that doth talte 
 Some colour from all others ? Nor shall I 
 Push cold conclusions 'gainst my brother's sum 
 Of what is good— so let dependence rest ! 
 
 {Exit. 
 
 SCENE SECONB— ViNcENNES— A Stbeut. 
 Enter Gerkin, Slalgh and Twang. 
 
 Gerkin. Ain't it about time Barron was back, Jedge ? 
 
 Twang. I reckon so. Our Guvner takes a crazy sight 
 more pains than I would to sweeten that ragin' devil 
 Tecumseh's temper. I'd sweeten it with sugar o' lead if I 
 had my way. 
 
 Slaugh. It's a reekin' shame — dang me if it ain't. 
 .\nd that two-faced one-eyed brother o' his, the Prophet 
 —I'll be darned if folks don't say that the Shakers in 
 them 'ere parts claims him for a disciple ! 
 
36 
 
 .1/ 
 
 i, 
 
 Tecumseh 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 ""crwfld^I^t^a'n'dl^^^^^^^ They dance Jest 
 
 rascals, and use "them hoSy '" ^ ^""^ '° '^e red 
 
 on the make like .°e rest o' u, JhlL'l „'."'s ?"''.'"^' "*'' 
 red devil that would 1ft vour hZ , ^^!" ^'"^ «° « 
 And as for honety-I sav " ,^ ■ '^? "'"'"«' "ter ! 
 then rob 'em That'. ,tl *"" ".^ ^"^'r "me, and 
 
 kentry. WhTskev^ Lttir - "'"' '° "^'^ ""^™ °"t o" the 
 •han^tin-'';:!;r^„%,\«'f-g;>„„«"npowder. and costs /e^ 
 
 Twang 
 
 >ok kind 
 
 Bloat. 
 
 £»fer Citizen Bloat. 
 
 'ook^do^'riledto'dav."'""' ^^^J"' """''^ "P' Vou 
 
 5-day, 
 
 you 
 
 hefrdXne:lV^'«^'"' '^° f-' "^O' "■"d-have 
 JWANO. NO! Has old Sledge bust you at the kyards 
 
 out'^ro„tiZaSty1ote"l'mJ. "^f^ ■='"'" "'" 
 
 spring-jest dow^f^™ Fo°t't„o'' V^T "'"''" '"« 
 General ; you was on his jury ^°" ''"°'' "'^ <=hap, 
 
 but we^"qui.Utirafore°lhe''cL?rV"''%''«'" ''™. 
 charge, and gave him a vote «■ Fh.nt^" ? ''"'"'^'' '''» 
 a heap o' furriners cTe epin° fnter ,h, '° ''°°'- 'r''^«='s 
 trodden cusses from Eurone »„H ^-r^-P""' <*°'"'- 
 Roudi, they'll dn T™ ^"^P^— and, if they're all like 
 
 own p;opr"BuUa":";? "^"'^ "'"■ ">« "^-fe as ou? 
 
 his w;^c^ktL7eXM's?'o:„^Sh"^'''"' V^" °" 
 assassin Tecumseh 's a-r„min"!5 '°"."' and he sez that red 
 
 painted deviirto convarrw.^rn '"'n '"'" ^"""^""^ "' ^i' 
 
 armed, he so. and wXle'^faf:": ^^,7,. ''''''"' »" 
 
Tecumseh 
 
 Slaugh. Wall ! our Guvner notified him to come — 
 he's only gettin' what he axed for. There'll be a deal o' 
 loose harflitteiin' ajout the streets afore night, I reckon. 
 Harrison's a heap too soft with ihem red roosters; he hain't 
 got cheek enough. 
 
 Gerkin. I've heerd say the Guvner, and the Chief Jus- 
 tice too, thinks a sight o' this tearin' red devil. They say 
 he's a great man. They say, too, that our treaty Injuns 
 air badly used— that they shouldn't be meddled with on 
 their resarves, and should hev skooiin'. 
 
 Bloat. Skooiin' ! That gits me ! Dogoned if I 
 wouldn't larn them jest one thing — what them regler 
 officers up to the Fort larns their dogs — " to drap to shot," 
 only in a different kind o' way like ; and, as for their re- 
 sarves, I say, give our farmers a chance— let them locate ! 
 
 Twang. That's so. Major ! What arthly use air they— 
 plouterin' about their little bits o' fields, with their little bits 
 o' cabins, and livin' half the time on mush-rats ? I say, 
 let them move out, and give reliable citizens a chance. 
 
 Slaugh. Wall, I reckon our Guvner's kind's about 
 played out. They call themselves the old slock— the 
 clean pea — the rale gentlemen o' the Revolooshun. But, 
 gentl'-men, ain't we the Revolooshun? Jest wait till the 
 live citizens o' these United States and Territories gits a 
 chance, and we'll show them gentry what a free people, 
 with our institooshuns, iin do. There'll be no more talk 
 o' skooiin for Injuns, you bet! I'd give them Kernel 
 Crunch's billet. 
 
 Gerkin. What was that, General ? 
 
 Slaugh. Why, they say he killed a hull family o' red- 
 skins, and stuck 'em up as scar'crows in his wheat-fields. 
 Gentlemen, there's nothin' like original idees 1 
 
 Twang. That war an original idee ! The Kernel orter 
 hev tuk out a patent. I think I've heerd o' Crunch. 
 Warn't he with Kernel Crawford, o' the melish', at one time ? 
 
 Slaugh. IVhar? 
 
 Twang. Why over to the Muskingum. You've heerd 
 o' them Delaware Moravians over to the Muskingum, 
 surely ? 
 
38 
 
 Tecuiaseh 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 knew good sile when he sot his eves on if -?• t~''''S 
 that them prayin' chaos haH K-i-JJ >t— diskivered 
 
 cutely-my heart kind o' warms to ,h,, """ 
 
 preacher and a 1- The heft"n' "fh"'^ "P ""^ •"■» ^it^ 
 some that warn* thar skinned out o-ThT ''"™'' l'"' 
 lands from the British up to the Thames River "^' A""^ 5°' 
 
 Injun, s'o they maygltlrou^S^L' '""' ° '»"•"" ""= 
 
 SLAUGH. I reckon we'll hev a inssU «,.■.!, .u 
 afore long. But for Noo Enriand we'd » hT?^f'^ 
 BriTike^ *r ^°° Englandet"k1nro' urrt'ol" 
 the? '^gintt Tut7:'hai^f^ '.""' shippi'nranVso 
 
 fus.roid"hos,T'?cor.rhcif m^own ""\'"j"" ''y^" 
 
 store'^nd sichf'"" '"^^ "^"^ '" -""^ '° ^•^"o'- -<> start 
 
Tecumseh 
 
 .W 
 
 'uns~jest for safety like. My time's limited — will you 
 liquor? 
 
 All. You bet ! 
 
 Bloat. (Meditatively :< Skoolin' ! Wall, I'll be darned ! 
 
 \E.xeunt. 
 
 SCENE THIRD. I'he Same. A room in General 
 Harrlson's house. 
 
 .ff«C<r General Harrison, and some Officers of the 
 American Army. 
 
 Harrison. What savage handiwork keeps Barron 
 back? 
 
 Enter Barron. 
 
 Ah, here he comes, his looks interpreting 
 Mischief and failure ! It is as I feared. 
 What answer do you bring? 
 
 Barron. Tecumseh comes 
 
 To council, with four hundred men at back, 
 To which, with all persuasion, I objected — 
 As that it would alarm our citizens. 
 Whose hasty temper, by suspicion edged. 
 Might break in broils of quarrel with his braves : 
 But, sir, it was in vain o be prepared I 
 Your Council records may be writ in blood. 
 
 Harrison. Will he attack us, think you ? 
 
 Barron. No, not now. 
 
 His present thought is to intimidate. 
 But, lest some rash and foul-mouthed citizen 
 Should spur his passion to the run, forearm ! 
 
 Harrison. Tut ! Arms are scarce as soldiers in our 
 town, 
 And I am sick of requisitioning. 
 Nay, we must trust to something else than arms. 
 Tecumseh is a savage but in name — 
 Let's trust to him ! What says he of our treaties ? 
 
40 
 
 Teciunssh 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 We cannot lio ..t<. u "^ ^^S'™. Ao, indeed : 
 What oT°he Prophel'?'' cZ' 'r" ™"''''-"- 
 
 Used by Tecumseh to auBment hi. „ ."' " * '"'' 
 
 Would rush on death. ^' 
 
 1ST Officer. wu ^ 
 
 V^d^Stor^te:^;^Hi,h.ve.,|,.i, 
 
 That L would Wd" he"un Vh"'^ ""'='5™'' 
 
 Harriso' arc^ji"/™""'^- ""d worshipped him. 
 Oh. he is 'i'^P hZ%Z^^Z^X '"if'^hief cameof it. 
 One d,pt in craft, the dye o T^eltv ^'°'^'"' 
 1 he other frank and opL as S;. 
 
 ■^»/«»- an Orderlv. 
 
 """Sng^""-^^" --^ "- "raves have reached the 
 
 [£*«•*«,„/. M rise hastily. 
 
Tecuntaeh 
 
 4' 
 
 Harrison. This room ii smaller than our audience : 
 Take seats and benches to the portico — 
 There we shall treat with him. 
 
 [ExtuHt all but GENERAL Harrison. 
 Could I but strain 
 My charge this chief might be my trusty friend. 
 Yet I am but my nation's servitor ; 
 Gold is the king who overrides the right, 
 And turns our people from the simple ways 
 And fair ideal of their fathers' lives. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 SCENE FOURTH— The Same. The portico of 
 General Harrison's house. An open grove at a 
 
 LITTLE distance IN FRONT. 
 
 [Cur ain rists and discovers General Harrison, 
 army officers and ciliz its, of various fualily, includ- 
 ing TwANO, Slaugh, Gerkin and Bloat, seated 
 in the portico. A sergeant and guard of soldiers 
 near by. . 
 
 Enter Tecumseh and his followers with Lefrov in 
 Indian dress. They all stop at the grove. 
 
 Harrison. Why halts he there ? 
 Go tell him he is welcome to our house. 
 
 [An Orderly goes down with message. 
 
 1ST Officer. How grave and decorous they look — 
 "the mien 
 Of pensive people born in ancient woods." 
 But look at him ! Look at Tecumseh there — 
 How simple in attire ! that eagle plume 
 Sole ornament, and emblem of his spirit. 
 And yet, far scanned, there's something in his face 
 That likes us not. Would we were out of this I 
 
 Harrison. Yes ; even at a distance I can see 
 His eyes distilling anger. 'Tis no sign 
 Of treachery, which ever drapes with smiles 
 
4» 
 
 TecumMh 
 
 .«"r II. 
 
 But let ui hope til yet a war of witj 
 Where firranesj may enact the part of force. 
 
 What answer do you bring ? ^^'*'*' "'"'""■ 
 
 " Hn?.!"" K •■ , TecumsehMy,: 
 
 llTr^hT ^f f°' rhites-lhe red man'. hou.e. 
 I*af.roofed, and walled with living oak, i, there- 
 
 Ut our white brother meet u, in i.^^"'"*"^ '" "" ^''■ 
 
 2ND Officer. ' /->h < 
 
 White brother ! So he levels to your height 
 And strips your office of its dignity 
 
 AnHTn^r"'^''- > 5'*'" *"« ""^ "O' for your dignity 
 
 And touchingly reminds us of our tenets * '' 
 
 Our nation spurns the outward shows of state, 
 
 And ceremony dies for lack of service. 
 
 ^omp IS discrowned, and throned regality 
 
 Dissolved away in our new land and laws. 
 
 Man IS the Presence here ! 
 
 1ST Officer. u-.n r 
 
 I like not that one in particular. "' '" ""^ ^' 
 
 ^ 3HO OFFICER. Nomore^rrifVXfwT^rcrab 
 And had its courtly fashion of advancrng ' 
 
 Harrison. Best yield to him, the rather that he now 
 Invites our confidence. His heavy force " "' "°* 
 bcants good opinion somewhat, yet I know 
 There s honour, aye, and kindness in this Chief. 
 
 'To £"''"• ''"• '"""' "^ '°^" •» »». -^^'^'^-^ 
 I^cks of our hair for memory. Here goes 1 
 
 Serva«/s and soldiers carry chairs and benches to the 
 ^m.>/W by General Harrison and ottlrs 
 a^ ««/ ^A,„„/^„_Tecumseh and his fouZers 
 sbll standing m the lower part ofthegroix 
 
yC.SVt IV. 
 
 Tecunueh 
 
 4i 
 
 Harrison. We have not met to bury our respect. 
 Or mar our plea with lack of courtesy. 
 The Great Chief knows it is his father's wish 
 That he should sit by him. 
 
 Tkcumseh. My father's wish ; 
 
 My father is the sun ; the earth my mother, 
 
 [Pointing to tacH in tun:. 
 .\nd on her mighty bosom I shall rest. 
 
 [Tecum-seh and Ais fellotvtrs teat thtmulvts on tht 
 grass. 
 
 Harrison. {Rising.) I asked Tecumseh to confer 
 with me, 
 Not in war's hue, but for the ends of peace. 
 Our own intent — witness our presence here, 
 Unarmed save those few muskets and our swords. 
 How comes it, then, that he descends on us 
 With this o'erbearing and untimely strength ? 
 Tecumseh's virtues are the theme of all ; 
 Wisdom and courage, frankness and good faith — 
 To speak of these things is to think of him ! 
 Vet, as one theft makes men suspect the thief — 
 Be all his life else spent in honesty — 
 So does one breach of faithfulness in man 
 Wound all his after deeds. There is a pause 
 In some men's goodness like the barren time 
 Of those sweet trees which yield each second year. 
 Wherein what seems a niggardness in nature 
 Is but good husbandry for future gifts. 
 But this tree bears, and bears most treacherous fruit ! 
 Here is a gross infringement of all laws 
 That shelter men in council, where should sit 
 No disproportioned force save that of reason — 
 Our strong dependence still, -nd argument, 
 Oi better consequence than that of arms. 
 If great Tecumseh should give ear to it. 
 
 Tecumseh. (Rising.) You called upon Tecumseh and 
 he came I 
 You sent your messenger, asked us to bring 
 
 Wt^i 
 
44 
 
 Tecumseh 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 Our wide complaint to you— and it is here i 
 
 Why i, our brother angry at ouf foj^f ^ '" "'^ ^"'-^rs. 
 
 Since every man ijut repres.-nts a wrong? 
 
 Nay ! rather should our force be multiplied ' 
 
 Fill up your streets and overflow your fields 
 
 And crowd upon the earth for standing room • 
 
 Still would our wrongs outweigh our witnesses 
 
 And scant recital for the lack of tongues ' 
 
 I know your reason, and its bitter hrart. 
 
 Its form of justice, clad with promises- 
 
 Whlch UiWd'i''"' ' '^''" r«»" '«» the snare 
 vvnich tripped our ancestors in days of yore— 
 
 Who knew not falsehood and so feared ["not • 
 
 The red man's memory is full of graves. ^ ' 
 But wrongs live with the living, who are here- 
 Inheritors of all our fathers' sighs 
 And tears, and garments wringing wet with blood 
 The injuries which you have done to us 
 Cry out for remedy, or wide revenge. 
 Restore the forests you have robbed us of- 
 Uur stolen homes and vales of plenteous corn I 
 G^e back the boundaries. whicE are our lives, 
 Ere the axe rise ! aught else is reasonless. 
 
 HARRISON. Tecumseh's passion is a dangerous flood 
 ffis'thr^r"?""^ his jud^ent. Let h?mTft ^ 
 His threatened axe to hit defenceless heads I 
 It cannot mar the body of our right, 
 Nor graze the even justice of our claim : 
 These still would live, uncancelled by our death. 
 Let reason rule us, in whose sober light 
 We read those treaties which ofiend him thus • 
 
Tecumseh 
 
 45 
 
 i u 
 
 
 What nation was the first established here, 
 
 Settled for centuries, with title sound ? 
 
 You know that people, the Miami, well. 
 
 Long ere the white man tripped his anchors cold, 
 
 To cast them by the glowing western isles. 
 
 They lived upon these lands in peace, and none 
 
 Dared cavil at their claim. We bought from them, 
 
 For such equivalent to largess joined, 
 
 That every man was hampered with our goods, 
 
 And stumbled on prolusion. But give ear ! 
 
 Jealous lest aught might fail of honesty — 
 
 Lest one lean interest or poor shade of right 
 
 Should point at us — we made the Kiclcapoo 
 
 And Delaware the sharer of our gilts. 
 
 And stretched the arms of bounty over heads 
 
 Which held but by Miami sufferance. 
 
 But, you ! whence came you ? and what rights have you ? 
 
 The Shawanoes are interlopers here — 
 
 Witness their name ! mere wanderers from the South ! 
 
 Spurned thence by ang/y Creek and Yamasee — 
 
 Now here to stir up strife, and tempt the tribes 
 
 To break the seals of faith. I am surprised 
 
 That they should be so led, and more than grieved 
 
 Tecumseh has such ingrates at his back. 
 
 Tecumseh. Call you those ingrates who but claim their 
 own. 
 And owe you nothing but revenge ? Those men 
 Are here to answer and confront your lies. 
 
 [Turniitg lo his followers. 
 Miami, Delaware and Kickapoo ! 
 Ye are alleged as signers of those deeds — 
 Those dark and treble treacheries of Fort Wayne. 
 Ye chiefs, whose cheeks are tanned with haitle-smoke, • 
 Stand forward, then, and answer if you did it ! 
 
 Kickapoo Chief. (Fising.) Not I ! I disavow them! 
 They were made 
 By village chiefs whose vanity o'ercame 
 Their judgment, and their duty to our race. 
 
 ..) ii: 
 
46 
 
 Tecumseh 
 
 Of all our noted braves and warriors. 
 
 '{■j^y *>»*« "o we'Sl" save with the palsied heads 
 
 Which dote on friendly compacts in the past. 
 Miami Chief. (Xjsi«g.) And I renounce them also. • 
 They were signed 
 
 By sottish braves-the Long-Knife's tavern chiefs- 
 
 Who sell their honour like a pack of fur, 
 Make favour with the pale-face for his fee, 
 And caper with the hatchet for his sport. ' 
 I am a chief by right of blood, and fling 
 Your false and flimsy treaties in your face. 
 I am my nation's head, and own but one 
 As greater than myself, and he is here ! 
 
 T, ,, . [■Poiiiiag to TeiCvmseh. 
 
 Tecumseh. You have your answer, and from those 
 whose rights 
 Stand in your own admission. But from me— 
 
 The Shawanoe— the interloper here 
 
 Take the full draught of meaning, and wash down 
 Iheir dry and bitter truths. Yes ! from the South 
 My people came—fairn from their wide estate 
 Where Altamaha's uncongealing springs 
 Kept a perpetual summer in their sight, 
 Sweet with magnolia blooms, and dropping balm, 
 And scented breath of orange and of pine. 
 And from the East the hunted Delawares came, 
 Flushed from their coverts and their native streams ; 
 your old allies, men ever true to you. 
 Who, resting after long and weary flight. 
 Are by your bands shot sitting on the ground. 
 Harrison. Those men got ample payment for their 
 land. 
 Full recompense, and just equivalent. 
 
 Tecumseh. They flew from death to light upon it here ' 
 And many a tribe comes pouring from the East, 
 bmitten with fire— their outraged women, maimed 
 
Tecumseh 
 
 47 
 
 Screaming in honor o'er their murdered babes, 
 
 Whose sinless souls, slashed out by white men's swords, 
 
 Whimper in Heaven for revenge. O God ! 
 
 'Tis thus the pale-face prays, then cries " Amen " ; — 
 
 He clamours, and his Maker answers him. 
 
 Whilst our Great Spirit sleeps ! Oh, no, no, no — 
 
 He does not sleep ! He will avenge our wrongs ! 
 
 That Christ the white men murdered, and thought dead — 
 
 Who, if He died for mankind, died for us— 
 
 He is alive, and looks from heaven on this ! 
 
 Oh, we have seen your baseness and your guile ; 
 
 Our eyes are opened and we know your ways ! 
 
 No longer shall you hoax us with your pleas. 
 
 Or with the serpent's cunning wake distrust. 
 
 Range tribe 'gainst tribe — then shoot the remnant down. 
 
 And in the red man's empty cabin grin, 
 
 And shake with laughier o'er his desolate hearth. 
 
 No, we are one ! the red men all are one 
 
 In colour as in love, in lands and fate ! 
 
 Harrison. Still, with the voice of wrath Tecumseh 
 speaks, 
 And not with reason's tongue. 
 
 Tecumseh. Oh, keep your reason ! 
 
 It is a thief which steals away our lands. 
 Your reason is our deadly foe, and writes 
 The jeering epitaphs for our poor graves. 
 It is the lying maker of your books, 
 Wherein our people's vengeance is set down, 
 But not a word of crimes which led to it. 
 These are hushed up and hid, whilst all our deeds. 
 Even in self-defence, are marked as wrongs 
 Heaped on your blameless heads. 
 
 But to the point ! 
 Just as our brother's Seventeen Council Fires 
 Unite for self-protection, so do we. 
 How can you blame us,' since your own example 
 Is but our model and fair precedent ? 
 The Ix)ng-Knife's craft has kept our tribes apart, 
 
Tecumseh 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 PV?r- .*"''"1°"'' """d distinctions up, 
 IZZi^ '° '""'■?^ *''''=''• "<»" « done, "^ 
 Are made your vile pretexts for bloody Wr. 
 But this IS past. Our nations now are one- 
 Ready to nse ,n tlieir imbanded strength. 
 You promised to restore our ravaged ilnds 
 
 ?„7h°°L""" ""'y "« ours-thafproo^is here 
 And by the tongues of truth has answered you!' 
 
 But lo!e wm ,h-''' *"' ''"8 """'"Sst your corn ; 
 But love will shme on you, and startled peace 
 Wi 1 come again, and build by every hea«h 
 
 tZiI^k *"^ '■'"'!'"*'■ °" y°" '^onfi"" wide, , 
 Reeks wfthT'' '""^ "P '° "'= ™P« °f Heaven, 
 
 herfyrbToodtl%r h^':' '' ^^ ^^'^ •>"" 
 daS^T- """'' ''°'' "''• «"™-' We-11 close our 
 
 his'lrguel" '''' '''°"'"'' '"^ >"•- heard. Where is 
 
 Harrison. My honest ears ache in default of reason 
 Tecumseh is reputed wise, yet now 
 His fuming passions from his judgment fly, 
 Like roving steeds which gallop from the Sitch, 
 
Tecumseh 
 
 49 
 
 And kick the air, wasting in wantonness 
 
 More strength than in submission. His threats fall 
 
 On fearless ears. Knows he not of our force, 
 
 Which in the East swarms like mosquitoes here ? 
 
 Our great Kentucky and Virginia fires ? 
 
 Our mounted men and soldier-citizens ? 
 
 These all have stings — let him beware of them ! 
 
 Tecumseh. Who does not know your vaunting citizens ! 
 Well drilled in fraud and disciplined in crime ; 
 But in aught else — as honour, justice, truth — 
 A rabble, and a base disordered herd. 
 We know them ; and our nations, knit in one. 
 Will challenge them, should this, our last appeal, 
 Fall on unheeding ears. My brother, hearken ! 
 East of Ohio you possess our lands. 
 Thrice greater than your needs, but west of it 
 We claim them all ; then, let us make its flood 
 A common frontier, and a sacred stream 
 Of which our nations both may drink in peace. 
 
 Harrison. Absurd I The treaties of Fort Wayne must 
 stand. 
 Your village chiefs are heads of civil rule. 
 Whose p' urers you seek to centrr in yourself. 
 Or vest in warriors whose trade is blood. 
 We bought from those, and from your peaceful <'<-.n — 
 Your wiser brothers — who had faith in us. 
 
 Tecumseh. Poor, ruined brothers, weaned from honest 
 lives ! 
 
 Harrison. They knew our wisdom, and preferred to 
 sell 
 Their cabins, fields, and wilds of unused lands 
 For rich i-eserves and ripe annuities. 
 As for your nations being one like ours — 
 'Tis false — else would they speak one common tongue. 
 Nay, more ! your own traditions trace you here — 
 Widespread in lapse of ages through the land— 
 From o'er the mighty ocean of the West. 
 What better title have you than ourselves, 
 
so 
 
 Tecumseh 
 
 Who came from o'er the ocean of the East 
 And meet with you on free and common ground? 
 Be reasonable, and let wisdom's words * 
 ttisphce your Mssion, and give judgment vent. 
 Thmk more of bounty, and talk less of rights- 
 Our h«,ds are fuU of gifts, our hearts of love 
 
 ,^?h-- "" ''™"'"'' '°^« '^ '*-"'e trader's 
 O'er with the purchase. Oh, unhappy lives- 
 Our g,fts which go for yours ! OnS^Ve were stron.. 
 
 And the Great Spin', made it for our use. 
 He knew no bounoaries, so had we peace 
 In the vast shelter of His handiwork. 
 And, happy here, we cared not wh, nee we came 
 
 A^F^ ° W* "° quan-els over God : 
 
 And so our broils, to narrow issues joini, 
 
 Were soon composed, and touched the ground of ueare 
 
 Our veiy ailments, rising from the earth? ^ ™' 
 
 And not from any foul abuse in us, 
 
 ThZt J/""^ i^' '8* "P*" '° <J«»""s hand. 
 Thus flowed our lives until your people came. 
 Till from the East our matchless misery came ! 
 ance then our tale is crowded with your crhL 
 With broken faith, with plunder of reserves™ ' 
 The sacred remnants of our wide domain- 
 With tamp rings, and deUrious feasts of fire 
 The fruit of your thrice-cursed stills of death, 
 
 Av bli^^^t""".^?"? "'^" ''** °"' f^d "en worse, 
 aJ^A .h m*"™ "" ^^^y S™P« i" open day. 
 And stumble into miserable graves. 
 Oh, It IS piteous, for none will hear ' 
 There IS no hand to help, no heart to feel. 
 No tongue to plead for us in all your land 
 
 vTJlT ^t^u """ '^**"'' '""i every heart, 
 Peered with hate, resents our presence here ; 
 And every tongue cries for our children's land 
 
 
Tecumseh 
 
 5' 
 
 
 To expiate their crime of being bom. 
 
 Ob, we have ever yielded in the past, 
 
 But we shall yield no more ! Those plains are ours '■ 
 
 Those forests are our birth-right and our home ! 
 
 Let not the Long-Knife build one cabin there — 
 
 Or fire from it will spread to every roof, 
 
 To compass you, and light your souls to death ' 
 
 Harrison. Dreams he of closing up our empty plains ? 
 Our mighty forests waiting for the axe ? 
 Our mountain steeps engrailed with iron and gold ? 
 There's no asylumed madness like to this ! 
 Mankind shall have its wide possession here ; 
 And these rough assets of a virgin world 
 btand for its coming, and await its hand. 
 The poor of every land shall come to this. 
 Heart-full ef sorrows, and shall lay them dowii. 
 
 Lkfroy. (Springing to his fat) The poor ! What care 
 your rich thieves for the poor ? 
 Those graspers hate the poor, from whom they spring. 
 More deeply thkn they hate this injured race. 
 Much have they taken from it — let them now 
 Take this prediction, with the red man's curse ! 
 The time will come when that dread power — the Poor — 
 Whom, in their greed and pride of wealth, they spurn — 
 Will rise on them, and tear them from their seats ; 
 Drag all their vulgar splendours down, and pluck 
 Their shallow women from their lawless beds, 
 Yra, seize their puling and unhealthy babes, 
 And fling them as foul pavement to the streets. 
 In all the dreaming of the Universe 
 There is no darker vision of despairs I 
 
 1ST Officer. What man is this ? 'Tis not an Indian. 
 
 Harrison. Madman, you rave ! — you know not what 
 you say. 
 
 Tecumseh. Master of guile, this axe should speak for 
 him! 
 [Drawing his hatchet as if to hurlit at Harrison. 
 
S' 
 
 Tecunueh 
 
 i 
 ACT II. 
 
 '"Rn?.""'''!!; ■^''" """ me*™ mi.chiefl Quick! 
 Bnng up the guard ! v>">-» 
 
 [General Harrison «,rf offiars draw their sword. 
 Tie warrtar, spnng to their feet and clutter aieut 
 Tecumseh, their eyes fixed intently uioHiili^!. 
 SON, who stands unmoved. Twang and his yWW. 
 duaffear. The soldiers rush forward andtaCj^Z 
 tut a t ordered not to fire. ^^™'" ""* """ ""^ 
 
 END OF SECOND ACT. 
 
ACT III. 
 
 SCENE FIRST.— VmcENNEs. — A Council Chamber 
 IN General Harrison's House. 
 
 Ettler Harrison and Jive Councillors. 
 
 Harrison. Here are despatches from the President, 
 As well as letters from my trusted friends, 
 Whose tenor made me summon you to Council. 
 
 [Placing papers oti table. 
 
 1ST Councillor. Why break good news so gently ? Is 
 it true 
 War is declared 'gainst England ? 
 
 Harrison. Would it were ! 
 
 That war is still deferred. Our news is draff, 
 And void of spirit, since New England turns 
 A fresh cheek to the slap of Britain's palm. 
 Great God ! I am amazed at such supineness. 
 Our trade prohibited, our men impressed, 
 Our flag insulted — still her people bend, 
 Amidst the ticking of their wooden clocks. 
 Bemused o'er small inventions. Out upon 't ! 
 Such tame submission yokes not with my spirit, 
 And sends my southern blood into my cheeks, 
 As proxy for New England's sense of shame. 
 
 aND Councillor. We all see, save New England, what 
 to do; 
 But she has eyes for her one interest — 
 A war might sink it. So the way to war 
 Puzzles imagining. 
 
 • Harrison. There is a way 
 
 Which lies athwart the President's command. 
 53 
 
54 
 
 Tecunueh 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 M 
 
 The reinforcementi asked for from Monroe 
 Are here at last, but with tbii strict injunction. 
 
 Or ii ^rj!12' ^ •?P'°y«' »^« '•" defence 
 
 Or ma forced attack. [TaA.^ .^ a /ett^r. 
 
 Fr«h fro,„ the South, of fe^rs'eh'H^rk : 
 WK* kI'*" •"'• Seminoles have conjoined. 
 Which rteans a genera! union of the tribes 
 And ravage of our Southern settlements. 
 1 ecumseh s master hand is seen in this, 
 
 i^CK'^ae?"^ -*•'-''-- 
 
 EnrunS"wiKhere. ^°"-»'> « ='- 
 
 Harrison. Not over close, 
 
 H?. .(."."^I'f "'"' "!' *" """'^ "<" "rike. 
 T^ i ,. *« 'f.^""'"." ■"' ">'«"'■ «nd looked beyond 
 I o wider fields and trials of our strength. 
 
 g'H Councillor. Our tree is now too bulky for his axe 
 SuTt^ "• °°"'' ''"'''™" "'■' P"""' But fo"o^" 
 This man would found an empire to surpass 
 Old Mexico's renown, or rich Peru. 
 Allied with England, he is to be feared 
 More than all other men. 
 In '5 CoBNCiLLOR. You had Some talk 
 
 in p.ivate, ere he vanished to the South ? 
 
 ■ rratore"' ^"' ''°"*'' '" ominous. Could we 
 Our purchases, and make a treaty line. 
 All might be well ; but who would stand to it ? 
 nZ C°"'«:"-WR. It is not to be thought of. 
 CITHER Councillors. No no 
 
 Harrisow. In further parley at the rive^s edge,' 
 
 And .T-^.'.r'^'"*^,''^''' ''* '^'"PP^'l >>" hands, * 
 And said th. '.rglish whooped his people on, 
 AS if his braves were hounds to spring at us ; 
 Lompared our nation to a whelming flood. 
 
Tecumseh 
 
 55 
 
 .And called hit tcheme a dam to keep it back — 
 Then profiered the old terms ; whereat I urged 
 A peaceful miaiion to the President. 
 But, by apt questions, gleaning my opinion, 
 Ere I was ware, of such a bootless trip. 
 He d' w his manly figure up, then smiled, 
 Ar' lid our President might drink his wine 
 ' :>aiety in his distant town, whilst we — 
 Over the mountains here — should fight it out ; 
 Then entering his bark, well manned with braves, 
 Bade me let matters rest till he returned 
 From his far mission to the distant tribes, 
 Waved an adieu, and in a trice was gone. 
 
 2ND Councillor. Your news is but an earnest of his 
 work. 
 
 4TH Councillor. This Chiefs despatch should be our 
 own example. 
 Let matters rest, forsooth, till he can set 
 Our frontier in a blaze ! Such cheap advice 
 Pulls with the President's, not mine. 
 
 Harrison. Nor mine ! 
 
 The sum of my advice is to attack 
 The Prophet ere Tecumseh can return. 
 
 5TH Councillor. But what about the breach of your 
 instructions ? 
 
 Harrison. If we succeed we need not fear the breach - 
 In the same space we give and heal the wound. 
 
 Enltr a Messenger, who hands letters to Harrisok(. 
 
 Thank you, Missouri and good Illinois — 
 Your governors are built of western clay. 
 Howard and Edwards both incline with me, 
 And uige attack upon the Prophet's force. 
 This is the nucleus of Tecumseh's strength- - 
 His bold scheme's very heart. Let's cut it out '. 
 
 1ST Councillor. Yes ! yes ! and every other part will 
 fail. 
 
 3ND Councillor. Let us prepare to go at once ! 
 
s« 
 
 Tecuinaeli 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 I 
 
 3*0 COUirCILLOR. 
 
 4TH CouKc.uio». I vote for it. ■*«"*'• 
 
 •eh, kill, u.- '' '"■ "" P'opix't, not Tecum- 
 Which has the keener axe? 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 • '^^''^ SECOND T.c.«s.„'s Cem ,. „. 
 Pkophet's Towh. 
 
 -ff«*r lENA a«a Mamatee. .^iMed 
 
 S":"« fr?™ o-;' » S" of hissing p nes 
 
 WWch ^Vh'' '"'° "°''="' f«'"tYnd sweet, 
 
 Which cned-we come ! I. w.-,s my love^nd yours i 
 
*CMsr. Ill, 
 
 Tecumaeh 
 
 j; 
 
 They ipoke to me— I know that they are n««r, 
 And waft their love to us upon the wind. 
 Mamatbi. Some dreams are merely faneiet in our 
 sleep ; 
 ' 111 make another trial, but I feel 
 Your only safety is in instant flight 
 
 Una. Flight! Where and how— beset by enemies ? 
 My fear sits like the partridge in the tree, 
 And cannot fly whilst these dogs bark at me. 
 
 SCENE THIRD — Ak elevated Plateau, doited with 
 
 HEAVV OAKS, WEST OP THE PrOPHET'!! TOWN. 
 
 £Httr thru of Harrison's slaff Offiars. 
 
 1ST Officer. Well, here's the end ofaU our northward 
 marching ! 
 
 SND Officer. A peaceful end, if we can trust those 
 chiefs 
 Who parleyed with us lately. 
 
 3RD Officer. Yes, for if 
 
 They mean to fight, why point us to a spot 
 At once so strong and pleasant for our camp? 
 
 1ST Officer. Report it so unto our General. 
 ,_. ^ \Exit 3RD Officer. 
 
 1 IS worth our long march through the forest wild 
 To view tlifi'e silent plains 1 The Prophet's Town, 
 Sequestered yonder like a hermitage. 
 Disturbs not either's vast of solitude. 
 But rather gives, like graveyard visitors. 
 To deepest loneliness a deeper awe. 
 
 Re-tHler 3RD Officer. 
 3RD Officer. I need not go, for Harrison is here. 
 
 Enter General Harrison, his /one following. 
 
 1ST Officer. Methinks you tike the place; some 
 thanks we owe 
 
S8 
 
 Tecumseh 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 Unto the Prophet's chiefs for good advice 
 T:Zl^^ZrZ'''"''"-^ These noble oaUs. 
 
 Thi'/^w- '^"f S'"?^-™"-!. ''rater and soft beds < 
 The soldier s luxuries are here together 
 
 "plSn"'^"- ^°''' '°°' '"^ P"'"^' ""'""oks the springy 
 Which liM betwixt us and the Prophet's Town 
 I think, sir. 'tis a very fitting place 
 
 n^t^l^'t, ^ ''."'"8 place if *hite men were our foes • 
 But to he red it gives a clear advantage. ' 
 
 bleep like the weasel here, if you are irise < 
 
 Be'^m^'/'f "/■^J??'' '■■■• ">"■• <=''i«f'. «° menacing at first 
 Became quite friendly at the last. They fear 
 A battle, and will treat on any terms. ^ 
 The Prophet's tide of strength will ebb away. 
 And leave his stranded bark upon the mire 
 
 NaZT ^" ""^ ""■"«' ="«'' °f °'«1 dissembling 
 If I could look upon her smallest web 
 And see ,n it but crossed and harmless hairs. 
 
 I did not like the manner of those chiefs 
 
 Who spoke so fairly. What but highest greatness 
 
 T. h Hi ■ "l-'P '" *" '"''»"' ' This our camp 
 
 Is badly pUced ; each coulee and ravine 
 
 Is dangerous cover for approach by night ; 
 
 And all the circuit of the spongy plain 
 
 A treacherous bog to mire our cavalry 
 
 rhey who directed us so warmly here 
 
 Had other than oi-r comfort in their eye 
 
 hTr^son"^- ^'" """ " "ight-attack, sir? 
 I but anticipate, and shall prepare "*" " ' ''° ' 
 
 Tis sunset, and too late for better choice, 
 Kt'rh «« 'he Prophet welcome to his ground. 
 Pitch tents and draw out baggage to the centre ■ 
 
scBNK IV. Tecumseh 
 
 Uirdle the camp with lynx-eyed sentinels ; 
 
 Detail strong guards of choice and wakeful men 
 
 As pickets in advance of all our lines ; 
 
 Place mounted riflemen on both our flanks ; 
 
 Our cavalry take post in front and rear, 
 
 But still within the lines of infantry, 
 
 Which, struck at any point, must hold the ground 
 
 Until relieved. Cover your rifle pans— 
 
 The thick clouds threaten rain. I look to you 
 
 To fill these simple orders to the letter. 
 
 But stay ! I^t all our camp-fires burn 
 
 Till, if attacked, we form — then drown them out. 
 
 The darkness falls — make disposition straight ; 
 
 Then, all who can, to sleep upon theii arms. 
 
 I fear me, ere nigh' yields to morning pale, 
 
 The warriors' yell i sound our wild reveille. 
 
 59 
 
 SCENE FOURTH.— 1 ECUMSEH's Cabin. 
 
 Enter Iena. 
 
 Iena. 'Tis night, and Mamatee is absent still ! 
 Why should this sorrow weigh upon my heart. 
 And other lonely things on earth have rest ? 
 Oh, could I be with them ! The lily shone 
 All day upon the stream, and now it sleeps 
 Under the wave in peace — in cradle soft 
 Which sorrow soon may fashion for my grave. 
 Ye shadows which do creep into my thoughts — 
 Ye curtains of despair ! what is my fault. 
 That ye should hide the happy earth from me? 
 Once I had joy of it, when tender Spring, 
 Mother of beauty, hid me in her leaves ; 
 When Summer led me by the shores of song 
 And forests and far-sounding cataracts 
 Melted my soul with music. I have heard 
 The rough chill harpings of dismantled woods. 
 When Fall had stripped them, and have felt a joy 
 
do 
 
 Tecumseh 
 
 Deeper than ear could lend unto the heart ■ 
 And when the Winter from his mountains iild 
 Looked down on death, and, in the frosty sky, 
 The very stars seemed hung with icicles, 
 1 hen came a sense of beauty calm and cold, 
 
 w;fi! r'J'^ u* 'i°'" "">"*"■• y" ''"'« ■»« still 
 With kindred bonds to Nature. All is past. 
 And he who won from me such love for him, 
 And he, my valiant uncle and my friend 
 Come not to lift the cloud that drapes my soul, 
 And shield me from the fiendish Prophet's power. 
 
 £»Ur Mamatee. 
 
 Give me his answer in his very words ' 
 Mamatee. There is a black storm raging in Ws mind- 
 
 His eye darts lightning like the angry cloud 
 
 Which hangs in woven darkness o'er the earth 
 
 Brief IS his answer— you must go to him. 
 
 'Vhth i"^ " " camp-fires gleam among the oaks 
 
 .Vhich dot yon western hill. A thousand men 
 Are sleeping there cajoled to fatal dreams 
 By promises the Prophet breaks to night. 
 Hark I 'tis the war-song ! 
 
 Brtf^l'^x^ 1 . °"*' 'he Prophet now 
 
 Betray Tecumseh's trust, and break his faith ? 
 
 HUa1T\^^ '^'^^.^° *">'"''"« ""' feed ambition. 
 His dancing braves are frenzied by his tongue. 
 
 Which prophesies revenge and victory 
 Before the break of day he will surprise 
 
 T7nL = ? i" " '^■"P' ""^ ''»"« °"f people's fate 
 Upon a single onset. r r -ic 
 
 Iena. Should he fail? 
 
 Mamatee. Then all will fail ;-Tecumseh', scheme will 
 
 Iena. It shall not I Let us uo to him at once I 
 Mamatee. And risk your life ? 
 
 Wh» night and man combine for d^k'ot' d:.^'''"'*" 
 
SCENE V. Tecumseh 6i 
 
 I'll go to him, and argue on my knees — 
 
 Yea, yield my hand— would I cou'd give my heart ! 
 
 To stay his purpose and this act ot ruin. 
 
 Mamatee. He is not in the mood for argument. 
 Rash girl I they die who would oppose him now. 
 
 Iena. Such death were sweet as life — I go ! But, first- 
 Great Spirit! I commit my soul to Thee. 
 
 [ATnee/s. 
 
 SCENE FIFTH— An open space in the forest near 
 THE Prophet's Town. A fire or billets burning. 
 War-cries are heard from the town. 
 
 £nfer the Fropuet. 
 
 Prophet. My spells do work apace ! Shout yourselves 
 hoarse. 
 Ye howling ministers by whom I climb ! 
 For this I've wrought uiUil my weary tongue, 
 Blistered with incantation, flags in speech, 
 And l.alf declines its o^-ce. Every brave, 
 Inflamed by chaims and oracles, is now 
 A vengeful serpent, who will glide ere morn 
 To sting the Long-Knife's sleeping camp to death. 
 Why should I hesitate ? My promises ! 
 My duty to Tecumseh I What are these 
 Compared with duty here ? Where I perceive 
 A near advantage, there my duty lies ; 
 Consideration strong which overweighs 
 All other reason. Here is Harrison — 
 Trapanned to dangerous lodgment for the night — 
 Each deep ravine which grooves the prairie's breast 
 A channel of approach ; each winding creek 
 A. screen for creeping death. Revenge is sick 
 To think of such advantage flung aside. 
 For what ? To let Tecumseh's greatness grow. 
 Who gathers his rich harvest of renown 
 Out of the very fields that I have sown ! 
 
63 
 
 Tecuraseh 
 
 By Manitou, I will endure no more ! 
 Noi, in the rising flood of our affairs, 
 Fish like an osprey for this eagle longer. 
 
 But, soft ! 
 
 It is the midnight hour when comes 
 
 Tarhay to cbim his bride, (calls) Tarhay I Tarhay ! 
 
 Enfer Tarhav with several braves. 
 
 Tarhay. Tarhay is here ! 
 .^/ROMEt. The Long-Knives die to-night. 
 
 The spirits which do minister to me 
 Have breathed this utterance within niy ear. 
 You know my sacred office cuts roe off 
 From the immediate leadership in fight. 
 My nobler work is in t^ . spirit-world, 
 And thence come piomises which make us strong. 
 Near to the foe I'll keep the Magic Bowl, 
 Whilst you, Tarhay, shall lead our warriors on. 
 
 Tarhay. I'll lead them ; they are wild with eagerness. 
 But fill my cold and empty cabin first 
 With light and heat ! You know I love your niece. 
 And have the promise of her hand to-night. 
 
 Prophet. She shall be yours ! {To the imves.) 
 
 Go bring her here at once — 
 But, look ! Fulfilment of my promise comes 
 In her own person. 
 
 Enter Isna ami Manatee. 
 
 Welcome, my sweet niece ! 
 You have forestalled my message by these braves, 
 And come unbidden to your wedding place. 
 Iena. Uncle ! you kn w my heart is far away - 
 Prophet. But still your hand is here ! this little hand ! 
 
 (Pulling her forward. ) 
 Iena. Dare you enforce a weak and helpless girl, 
 Who thought to move you by her misery ? 
 Stand back 1 I have a message for you too. 
 
Tecumseh 
 
 63 
 
 What means the war-like song, the dance of braYes, 
 And bustle in our town ? 
 
 Prophet. It means that we 
 
 Attack the foe to-night. 
 
 Iena. And risk our all ? 
 
 that Tecumseh knew ! his soul would rush 
 In arms to intercept you. What ! break faith, 
 And on the hazard of a doubtful strife 
 
 Stake his great enterprise and all our lives ! 
 
 The dying corses of a ruined race 
 
 Will wither up your wicked heart for this ! 
 
 Prophet. False girl ! your heart is with our foes ; 
 Your hand I mean to turn to better use. 
 
 Iena. Oh, could it turn you from your mad intent 
 How freely would I give it ! Drop this scheme, 
 Dismiss your frenzied warriors to their beds : 
 And, if contented with my hand, Tarhay 
 Can have it here. 
 
 Tarhav. I love you, Iena ! 
 
 Iena. Then must you love what I do ! Love our 
 race! 
 'Tis this love nerves Tecumseh to unite 
 Its scattered tribes — his fruit of noble toil. 
 Which y<Su would snatch unripened from bis hand 
 And feed to sour ambition. Touch it not — 
 Oh, touch it not, Tarhay ! and though my heart 
 Breaks for it, I am yours. 
 
 Prophet. His anyway. 
 
 Or I am not the Prophet ! 
 
 Tarhav. For my part 
 
 1 have no leaning to this rash attempt, 
 Since Iena consents to be my wife. 
 
 Prophet. Shall I be thwarted by a yearning fool ! 
 
 (Aside.) 
 This soft, sleek girl, to outward seeming good, 
 I know to be a very fiend beneath — 
 Whose sly affections centre on herself, 
 And feed the gliding snake within her heart. 
 
6a 
 
 Tecumieh 
 
 Tarhay. I cannot think her so— 
 
 Mamatee. She is not w! 
 
 1 here is the snake that creeps among our race, 
 Whose venomed fangs would bite into our lives. 
 And poison all our hopej. 
 
 Prophet She is the head- 
 
 Ihe very neck of danger to me here, 
 Which I must break at once ! (Aside.) Tarhay— attend ! 
 I can see dreadful visions in the air; 
 I can dream awful dreams of life and fate ; 
 I can bring darkness on the heavy earth ; 
 I can fetch shadows from our fathers' graves, 
 And spectres from the sepulchres of hell. 
 Who dares dispute with me disputes with death I 
 Dost hear, Tarhay? 
 
 [Tahhav ami braves cower before the Prophet. 
 
 Tarhav. I hear, and will obey. 
 
 Spare me ! Spare me ! 
 
 Prophet. As for this foolish girl, 
 
 The hand she offers you on one condition, 
 I give to you upon a better one ; 
 And, since she has no mind to give her heart— 
 
 Which, rest assured, is in her body still 
 
 There,— uke it at my hands I 
 (^ingi lENA violently toward Tarhay, into whose arms 
 sht falls fainting, and is then borne away by Mamatee.) 
 
 ^^t^*.""*^) *'° ''"°K ** *>"»« to view the Mysric 
 Torch 
 
 And belt of Sacred Beans grown from my flesh- 
 One touch of it makes them invulnerable- 
 Then creep, like stealthy panthers, on the foe ! 
 
SCENE VI. 
 
 Tecumseh 
 
 65 
 
 SCENE SIXTH— Morning. The field of Tippe- 
 canoe AFTER THE BaTTLE. ThE GROUND STREWN 
 WITH DEAD SOLDIERS AND WARRIORS. 
 
 Enter Harrison, Offiars and Soldiers mnd Barron. 
 
 Harrison. A costly triumph, reckoned by our slain ! 
 Look how some lie still clenched with savages 
 In all-embracing death, their bloody hands 
 Glued in each other's hair ! Make burial straight 
 Of all alike in deep and common graves : 
 Their quarrel now is ended. 
 
 1ST Officer. I have heard 
 
 The red man fears our steel — 'twas not so here ! 
 From the first shots, which drove our pickets in. 
 Till daylight dawned, they rushed upon our lines. 
 And flung themselves upon our bayonet points 
 In frenzied recklessness of bravery. 
 
 Barron. They trusted in the Prophet's rites and spells, 
 Which promised them immunity from death. 
 All night he sat on yon safe eminence, 
 Howling his songs of war and mystery. 
 Then fled, at dawn, in fear of his own braves. 
 
 Enter an Aide. 
 
 Harrison. Whzt tidings bring you from the Prophet's 
 Town? 
 
 Aide. The wretched women with their children flee 
 To distant forests for concealment. In 
 Their village is no living thing save mice 
 Which scampered as we oped each cabin door. 
 Their pots still simmered on the vacant hearths, . 
 Standing in dusty silence and desertion. 
 Naught else we saw, save that their granaries 
 Were crammed with needful corn. 
 
 Harrison. Go bring it all- 
 
 Then bum their village down ! 
 
 [Exit Aide. 
 
60 
 
 Tecumseh 
 
 I 
 
 w'^l^u"'^'"- ., Thi. victory 
 
 Will shake Tecumseh's project to the base. 
 Were I the Prophet I should drown myself 
 Rather than meet him. 
 
 Barron. We have news of him— 
 
 Uur scouts report him near in heavy force. 
 
 Harrison. 'Twill melt, or draw across the British line, 
 .^nd wait for war. But double the night watch, 
 Lest he should strike, and give an instant care 
 To all our wounded men : to-morrow's sun 
 Must light us on our backward march for home. 
 1 hence Rumor's tongue will spread so proud a story 
 New England will grow envious of ov- glory ; 
 And, greedy for renown so long abhorred, 
 Will on old England draw the tardy sword ! 
 
 SCENE SEVENTH.-THE Rums ok the Prophet's 
 Town. 
 
 .£«*/• /it Prophet, who gloomily surveys the place. 
 
 Prophet. Our people scattered, and our town in ashes : 
 lo think these hands could work such madness here— 
 This envious head devise this misery ! 
 Tecumseh, had not my ambition drawn 
 Such sharp and fell destruction on our race. 
 You might have smiled at me ! for I have matched 
 My cunning 'gainst your wisdom, and have draesed 
 Myself and all into a sea of ruin. 
 
 Enter Tecum.seh. 
 
 Tecumseh. Devil ! I have discovwcd you at last • 
 You sum of treacheries, whose wolfisn fangs 
 Have torn our people's flesh— you shall not live ' 
 {Th, Prophet retreats, facing and follotoed by Tecumseh.) 
 
 Prophet. Nay— strike me not ! I can explain it all • 
 It was a woman touched the Magic Bowl, 
 And broke th.. brooding spell. 
 
Tecumaeh 
 
 67 
 
 Tecumseh. Impottor! Slave! 
 
 Why should I spare you ? 
 
 [Lifts its hand as i/lo strike. 
 
 Prophet. Slay, stay, touch me not ! 
 
 One mother bore us in the self-same hour. 
 
 Tecumseh. Then good and evil came to light together. 
 Go to the corn-dance, change your name to villain ! 
 Away I Your presence tempts my soul to mischief. 
 ,„ ,, ^ , [.ffj;// //i< Prophkt. 
 
 Would that I were a woman, and could weep. 
 And slake hot rage with te.ars ! O spiteful fortune. 
 To lure me to the limit of my dreams, 
 Then turn and crowd the ruin of my toil 
 Into the narrow compass of a night. 
 My brother's deep disgrace — myself the scorn 
 Of envious harriers and thieves of fame. 
 Oh, I could bear it all I But to behold 
 Our ruined people hunted to their graves — 
 To seje the Long- Knife triumph in their shame— 
 This is the burning shaft, the poisoned wound 
 That rankles in my soul ! But why despair ? 
 All is not lost — the English are our friends. 
 My spirit rises— Manhood, bear me up ! 
 I'll haste to Maiden, join my force to theirs, 
 And fall with double fury on our foes. 
 Farewell, ye plains and forests, but rejoice ! 
 Ye yet shall echo to Tecumseh's voice. 
 
 Enter Lefroy. 
 
 Lefrov. What tidings have you gleaned of lena ? 
 
 TECtJMSEH. My brother meant to wed her to "Tarhay — 
 The chief who led his warriors to ruin ; 
 But, in the gloom and tumult of the night. 
 She fled into the forest all alone ! 
 
 Lefrov. Alone ! In the wide forest all alone ! 
 Angels are with her now, for she is dead. 
 
 Tecumseh. You know her to be skilful with the bow. 
 'Tis certain she would strike for some great lake — 
 
Tecmnaeli 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 68 
 
 TojointheBAtahf^ I go « once 
 
 Lcrsov. „ [i'a,/ TEcutami 
 
 I climbed to Hca.«, . t ""' yeMewUv 
 
 Their noon-daVTSfrM '»„%'««'' P»!'"'err.I.ke 
 Joyou, of ,i„giV„ l""" """ voice is heart, 
 
 WD or THIRD ACT. 
 
■ III. 
 
ACT IV. 
 
 ■ff«*r Chok'j 
 
 W»r ii declared, unnalunl and w" 
 By Revolution's calculating ion , 
 So leave the home of mercena- v j 
 And wing with me, in your upi'ie.i it 
 Away to our unyielding Cana^K 
 There to behold the Geniui o ., t '.m J 
 Beneath her linging pine and tuti eri -^. 
 Companioned with the lion, Loyalty 
 
 SCENE FIRST—A room ik Fokx Georoe. 
 £i>/er GtNRRAL Brock naJi^g a dupattk from Monlrtal. 
 
 Brock. Prudent and politic Sir George Prevoit I 
 Hull's threatened nvage of our westem^coast 
 Math more breviloquence than your despatch 
 Storms are not stilled by reasoning with air. 
 Nor eres quenched by a syrup of sweet words. 
 So to the wars, Diplomacy, for now 
 Our trust is in our arms and arguments 
 Dehvered only from the cannon's mouth ' 
 
 Enter an Orderly. 
 
 [Xings. 
 
 Orderly. Your Exc'Uency ? 
 
 ^*'^''- Bid Colonel Proctor come ' 
 
 Now mipht the head of gray Experience^^"' °"'°'""- 
 Shake oer the problems that suiround us here 
 
 69 
 
70 
 
 Tecunueb 
 
 I am no stranger to the brunt of war, 
 But all the odds so lean against our side 
 That valour's self might tremble for ibe issue. 
 Could England stretch its full assisting hand 
 Then might I smile though velvet-footed Time 
 struck all hu claws at once into our flesh : 
 But England, noble England, 6ghu for Ufe, 
 • Couchmg the knightly lance for liberty 
 Gainst a new dragon that affrights the world. 
 And, now, how many noisome elements 
 Would plant their greed athwart this country's good ' 
 «ow many demagogues bewray its cause ! 
 How many aliens urge it to surrender I 
 Our present good must match their present ilL 
 And, on our frontiers, boldest deeds in war 
 Dismay the foe, and strip the loins of faction. 
 
 i?«ftr Colonel Proctor. 
 Time waits not our conveniency; I trust 
 Your preparations have no further needs. 
 
 Proctor. All is in readiness, and I can leave 
 for Amherstburg at once. 
 
 Brock. Then tarry not, 
 
 tor time is precious to us now as powder 
 You understand my wishes and commands ? 
 
 "^*ence''"°'' """^ "^ '""^^ """^ *"° '""' 
 
 Brock. Rest not within the limit of instructions 
 
 tV"? *?? •*'.'" """"> '°' ""ey should bind 
 1 he feeble only ; able men enlarge 
 
 And shape them to their needs. Much must be done 
 
 ihat lies in your discretioti. At Detroit 
 
 Hull vaunts his strength, and meditates invasion. 
 
 And oyalty, unarmed, defenceless, bare. 
 
 May let this boaster light upon our shores 
 
 Without one manly motion of resistance: 
 
 So whilst I open Parliament at York, 
 
siKMK 1- Tecumseh j, 
 
 Close it again, and knit our volunteers, 
 Be yours the task to head invasion off. 
 Act boldly, but discreetly and so draw 
 Our interest to the balance, that affairs 
 May hang in something like an even scale, 
 Till I can join you with a fitting force, 
 And batter this old Hull until he sinks. 
 So fare-you-well— success attend your mission ! 
 
 Proctor. Farewell, sir ! I shall do my best in this. 
 And put my judgment to a prudent use 
 In furtherance of all. 
 
 „ [£x$/ Proctor. 
 
 Urock. Prudent he will be — 'tis a vice in him. 
 For in the qualities of evety mind 
 There's one o'ergrows, and prudence in this man 
 Tops all the rest. 'Twill suit our present needs. 
 But, boldness, go with me ! for, if I know 
 My nature well, I shall do something soon 
 Whose consequence will make the nation cheer, 
 Or hiss me to my grave. 
 
 Re-enttr Orderly. 
 
 Orderly. 
 Some settlers wait without. 
 
 Brock. Whence do they come ? 
 
 Your Exc'llency, 
 
 Enter Colonel Macdonell. 
 
 Orderly. From the raw clearings of Lake Erie, sir. 
 
 Brock. Go bring them here at once. (Exit Orderly.) 
 The very men 
 Who meanly shirk their service to the Crown ! 
 A breach of duty to be remedied • 
 For disaffection like an ulcer spreads 
 Until the caustic ointment of the law, 
 Sternly applied, eats up and stays corruption. 
 
 Enter Deputation of Vankee Settlers. 
 
T 
 
 Tecumseh 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 r^ r™'- ""'"'y '■"■"''» ; I trust you beu 
 Good hope, ,n loyal heart, for Canadl 
 
 '"coun'r"- ■""' ''"' "' "°^'' » '-'"« '» our 
 
 Tr^l h V""'? ^'"'='- I' ain't quite fair 
 BR^r Vr'n'""^? ^""" "?« "'her^ide. 
 
 ^s.a^fo,^°rerXTi.r^.r/-"^^- '••-«' 
 Ynnr hI II- I,' '^'"8 ''«'■«• how dare you make 
 
 'Of men so base. 
 
 v4rn^^.:L^''4,^^'^--«HougHt 
 Brock. „ „i 
 
 The land of their adoption. This attack 
 On Canada is foul and unprovoked : 
 
 ?Lt wT„^h^/^•^' "f?*^' "^ *^'"'°™"»- 
 
 B^o i ? . P •" h>"-l invasion back. 
 Beware the lariat of the law . Tis rtrown 
 With aim so true in Canada it bring 
 Sedition to the ground at eveiy casf 
 
 .st^Wer. Wen, Genen.1, we're not your British 
 But if we were we know that Canada 
 Is naught compared with the United States. 
 
 BROCK. You have no faith! Then take a creed from 
 For I believe in Britain's Empire, ana 
 Who yet shall rise to greatness, and shall stand 
 
SCENE I, 
 
 Tecumack 
 
 73 
 
 At England', thoulder helping ber tonanl 
 
 True liberty throughout a faithless woJld 
 
 Here is a creed for arsenals and eamps. 
 
 For hearts and heads that seek their ^try's good • 
 
 So, go at once, and meditate on it! ^""^'8°*^' 
 
 I have no time to parley with you now- 
 
 But think on th,s as well ! that traitors, spies, 
 
 0?liil " ^°^^'T- *"^ ™"" '«»« 'his Und. 
 Or dangle nearer Heaven than they wish, 
 so to your homes, and ponder your condition. 
 
 This foreign element will hamper if""" *'""■' ""^'*- 
 
 Its aheii spirit ever longs for change. 
 
 And union with the States. 
 Macdonell. o fear it not. 
 
 Nor magnify the girth of nois, men ! 
 
 Iheir name is faction, and their numbers few. 
 
 Th. f r'.'^r''"' encompassing th. m stands 
 
 The silent element that doth nSt change : 
 That points with steady finger to the CroWn- 
 
 irue as the needle to the viewless pole. 
 And stable as its star ! 
 
 Brock. j k„o„ ,( „^^^ 
 
 And trust to It alone for earnestness, 
 Accordant counsels, loyalty and faith. 
 Bu give me these-and let the Yankees come ! 
 With our poor handf.M of inhabitants 
 we can defend our forest wilderness. 
 And spurn the bold invader from our shores. 
 
 ke-eitUr Orderly. 
 
 Orderly. Your boat u ready, sir ' 
 Brot'ic /* ■ 
 
 I shall fonhwith to York. "*"■ " " °"'*- 
 
 \Extunt. 
 
'■* Tecunweh .^^.t ,v. 
 
 SCJ£N£^>ONa-yoRK, THE Capital of Uppek 
 
 Cahada. The space in front or old 
 
 Government House. 
 
 Enter I 
 
 < V. E. Lovalists, separately. 
 
 TuS„f,i^*"^^-^""^""-»ke™e«,. Such 
 
 Unstaled by repetition. I affirm 
 
 Words never showered upon more fruitful soil 
 
 To nourish valour^ growth. 
 
 Oh T y- \ J-°'^'*"^T. That final phrase- 
 
 A„H IT* ^°"^ L" """"<* «° •« framed 
 And hung in every honourable heart 
 l"or daily meditation. 
 
 Sedition skulks, and feels its blood a-cold. 
 •Since first it fell upon the public ear. 
 
 'Ton^f" ^°'*"'^- '^''"' '' " ™g'<= <" 'his soldier's 
 Oh, language is a common instrument ; 
 But when a master touches it-what sounds : 
 
SC'KNK II. 
 
 Tecumaeh 
 
 75 
 But Brock 
 
 1ST U. E. ipvALisT. What wunds indeed 
 can use hii sword 
 StiU better than his tongue. Our sute affairs. 
 Conned and digested by hi, eager mind. 
 Draw into form, and even now his voice 
 Cries, Forward I To the Front I 
 
 Js'^u'f^'w *"'■"• i^''-^^'" he comes ! 
 
 £«iir General Brock, accompanied fy Macdoneli 
 NiCHOL Robinson and other Canadian ' 
 
 Officers and friends conversing. 
 
 Brock. 'Tis true our Province faces heavy odds 
 
 Of regulars but fifteen hundred men ^ ' 
 
 To guard a frontier of a thousand miles : 
 
 Of volunteers what aidance we can draw 
 
 From seventy thousand widely scattered souls 
 
 A meagre showing 'gainst the enemy's 
 
 Ifnumljersbethetest. But odds lie not 
 
 in numbers only, but in spirit too— 
 
 Witness the might of England's little isle ' 
 
 And what made England great will keep her so- 
 
 rhe free soul and the valour of her sons ■ 
 
 And what exalts her will sustain you now 
 
 II you contain her courage and her faith, 
 bo not the odds so much are to be feared 
 As private disaffection, treachery— 
 Those openers of the door to enemies— 
 And the poor crouching spirit that gives way 
 tre It is forced to yield. 
 Robinson. »t„ ». r .l . 
 
 Brock, I trust there is not : yet I speSc°on °'""" ' 
 As what IS to be feared more than the odds. 
 *or like to forests are communities- 
 Fair at a distance, entering you find 
 1 he rubbish and the underbrush of states 
 
76 
 
 Teciunteh 
 
 ■Tis ever the mean soul that counts the oddi. 
 And, where you find this spirit, pluck it ud— 
 Tis full of mischief. 
 
 Macdonell. It i, almost dead. 
 
 England s»ast war, our weakness, and the eagle 
 Whetting his beak at Sandwich, with one claw 
 Already in our side, put thought to steep 
 In cold conjecture for a time, and gave 
 A text to alien tongues. But, since you came. 
 Depression turns to smiling, and men see 
 1 hat dangers well opposed may be subdued 
 AVhich, shunned, would overwhelm us. 
 
 v„ "-.u . Hold to this! 
 
 J-or since the storm has struck us we must face it 
 What is our present count of volunteers ? 
 
 NiCHOL. More than you called for have assembled, sir— 
 The flower of York and Lincoln. 
 
 Brock. SomewiUgo 
 
 To guard our frontfer at Niagara, 
 Which must be strengthened even at the cost 
 Of York Itself. The rest to the Detroit, 
 Where, with Tecumseh's force, our regulars, 
 And Kent and Essex loyal volunteers. 
 We 11 give this Hull a taste of steel so cold 
 His teeth will chatter at it, and his scheme 
 Oi easy conquest vanish into air. 
 
 .£«*» a Company of Militia with thtir Cffiars, unarmti. 
 They saiule, march across the stage, and mate their exit. 
 
 What men are those ? Their faces are familiar. 
 
 Robinson. Some farmers whom you furloughed at Fort 
 George, 
 To tend their fields, which still they leave half reaped 
 To meet invasion. 
 
 Brock. i remember it ! 
 
 The jarring needs of harvest-time and war, 
 'Twixt whose necessities grave hazards lay. 
 
SCCNE II. 
 
 Tecunweh 
 
 77 
 
 ^'b!^!'' ^^^ °°^' *°^^ '° ""* ">"' children's 
 And then return to battle with light hearts 
 *or, though their ban! necessities o'erpoised 
 Their duty for the moment, they are men 
 Who draw their pith from loyal roots, their sires, 
 Dug up by revolution, and cast out 
 To horel in the bitter wilderness, 
 And wring, with many a tussle, from the wolf 
 Those very fields which cry for harvesters 
 
 Red'hJS fo,°.^;-' '^'^ "'™ "^"^^^y « fort George- 
 Kea hot for action in their summer-sleeves, 
 And others drilling in their naked feet— 
 Our poor equipment (which disgraced us there) 
 Too scanty to go round. See they get arras, 
 An ample outfit and good quarters too. 
 NiCHOL. They shall be well provided for in all. 
 
 £M/er Colonels Babv* aW Elliott. 
 
 *'aEby?'^°'^ """"'"« '^"'; "bat news from home, 
 
 Th?.*H'ii^°"'' "°"*' y""' Exc'lleney-whereat we fear 
 This Hull IS in our rear at Amherstburg. 
 
 Brock. Not yet; what I unsealed last night reports 
 Tecumseh to have foiled the enemy "^ 
 
 a" '"o encounters at the Canard bridge. 
 A noble fellow, as I hear, humane. 
 Lofty and bold, and rooted in our cause. 
 
 Baby. I know him well ; a chief of matchless force. 
 If Mackinaw should fall— that triple key 
 To inland seas and teeming wilderness— 
 rte braaest in the West will flock to him. 
 
 BRoca. Twere weU he had an inkliiw of a&irs. 
 My letter says he chafes at my delay- 
 Not mme, but thin^ thou dull and fatuoas HoBie— 
 
 ' Pronounced Baw-bee. 
 
78 
 
 Tecumieh 
 
 Which, in a period that whipi delay, 
 
 L«.Ti^!1l'l°l'K'' '•"" ""emielvei and flash in action, 
 Lettt Idly leak the unpurchasable houn 
 
 IT.v"'?^'!' "«""« °f "o« precious time ! 
 
 Have b«Ji ^I'S r; ^*= "?''=y' »°'"« cankered minds 
 
 nave oeen a daily hindrance in our House 
 
 No measure so essential, bill so fair. 
 
 But they would foul it by some cunning clause 
 
 Wrenching the needed statute from its aim 
 
 By »ly in' cuon of their false opinion. 
 
 ll!l! f Tw"" °"'"°' "'''"86 to us whose hearts 
 Are faithfi;! 'o our trust ; nor yet delay ; 
 *or, Excli. , , you hurry on so fast 
 
 A-5'i, ' -,1 *?"" 'f'"' °>" of breath, 
 And ht r^ Itself, disparaged, lags behind. 
 
 But h«!l .K •?• ^^°" "'' y"" "»"^ no' '" reproof. 
 But haste, the evil of the age m peace, 
 
 ^s war's auxiliary, confederate 
 
 With Time himself in urgent great affairs. 
 
 So must we match it with the flying hours 1 
 
 I shall prorogue this tardy Parliament, 
 
 And promptly head our forces for Detroit. 
 
 Meanwhile, I wish you, in advance of us, 
 
 ro speed unto your homes. Spread everywhere 
 
 Throughout the West broad tiding, of our coming, 
 
 urn.^., '' ' . ™"f''" currents of reaction. 
 
 Will tell against our foes and for our friends. 
 
 As for the rest, such loyal men as you 
 
 n ''° w" ?*""'*' ' '°' «°°^ J°"™ey both : 
 BABY. We shall not spare our transport or ourselves. 
 
 £tiler a travel-staimd Messenobr. 
 
 Elliott. Good-bye. 
 
 °'^^- Tarry a moment, Elliott ! 
 
 Here comes a messenger— let's have his news. 
 
 Messenger. It is his Excellency whom I seek. 
 1 come, sir, with despatches from the West. 
 
 Brock. Tidings, I trust, to strengthen all our hopes. 
 
SCENE III. 
 
 TecuniMh 
 
 Message,. New. of g™ve i„,ere«. thi. no, ,he wo,.,. 
 
 Brocic. No, by mll^Z'Jlr^- " ^""'"^ ^'"^'^ 
 Th.f i....-.l!i f ' < '• '°' Mackinaw is ours ' 
 
 H^ Sscou. o. he.pKSer *^•- 
 pur aliens join ,hem. but the loval m,," - ' 
 
 Brock. I hope to better thi, anon. You, sirs. 
 
 Come wi,h me ; here is ma„er ,o despatch ^^' *" "^"'^ 
 A, once ,o Mon,real. Farewell, my Ss. 
 
 BABV. We .eel now what will folL"": fCfa'Sr^'^ 
 Brock Now '£nTJ^ "'"'• E"'"" <""/ Messenger. 
 
 So should I, triumph in the sigh, of man. 
 
 Right to the weaker side, yet coldly draws 
 Damning conclusions from its failure. Now 
 
 A^rff'''"' '?-,'°y '"'" "^'h double zeal i 
 And, meanwhile, let our joyful tidings spr«d ! 
 
 [SxeuH/. 
 SCENE third—The same. 
 £nter two Old Men 0/ York, separately. 
 .ST 0« Man. Good morrow, friend ! a fair and fit,ing 
 To take our airing, and to say farewell. 
 
 4 w.f«^' '^'"> "* '^''^ <"" f"«"<l^ God-speed, 
 A waftage, peradventure, to their graves 
 
 79 
 
8o 
 
 Tecuiiueh 
 
 ■|' 
 
 »"» °^» Maji. Tii « good ouw they die for, if they 
 By thii any pete, if i were young again, 
 Iwould no better journey. Young again I 
 Thu hubbub teu old puliei on the bound 
 Ai I wen in my teent. 
 
 Emter a Citizen. 
 
 /".-...^ iin. What newi afoot? 
 
 CiTOKM. Why everyone's afoot and coming here. 
 York t atuens are turned to warriors, 
 And gentle hearU beat high for Canada I 
 For, as you pass, on every hand you see. 
 Through the neglected openings of each house- 
 Through doorways, windowj-our Canadian maids 
 btrained by their parting lovers to their breasts : 
 And loyal matrons busy round their lords, 
 Buckling their arms on, or, with tearful eyes. 
 Kissing them to the war ! 
 
 »,\f^ °''1 ?**"• The volunteers 
 
 will pass this way ? 
 
 pfi^'tf- T. r '^«». ""he beach, and there 
 Embark for Burlragton, whence they will march 
 to Long Point, taking open boats again 
 To plough the shallow Erie's treacherous flood. 
 Such leaky craft as farmers market with : 
 RariB bottoms, one sou-wester-driven wave 
 Would heave against Lake Erie's wall of shore. 
 And dash to fragments. 'Tis an awful hazard— 
 A danger which in apprehension lies. 
 Yet palpable unto the spirit's touch 
 As earth to finger. 
 
 1ST Old Man. Let us hope a calm 
 Mav lull this fretful and ill tempered lake 
 Whilst they ascend. 
 
 [Military music is heard. 
 CmzEV, Hark ! here our soldiers come. 
 
Tecunueh 
 
 8i 
 
 ratuHittrt in tompanut. A eonemru of CiliuHS. 
 
 A^^t^""-";, P"J '*"'"'■ •ho* »he mirk of tmininir iir 
 And m«ny, welLin-land, yet full of fire, * "'' 
 
 Are burning for distinction. 
 
 Brocic. Till. i. good: 
 
 Love of distinction is the fruitful soil 
 From which brave actions spring ; and, sut>enHu«) 
 On love of country, these strike deep*! n^^"^ 
 And grow to greater greatness. Cry a halt— 
 A word here— then away ! 
 
 [FItmriih. The voiuHtar, hall, form Ibu, 
 and order arms. 
 
 Subject, with me of that Imperial PoweV'^""'"'" 
 Whose hberties are marching round the earth • 
 1 need not urge you now to follow me, 
 
 In ?hf ♦("'"'e'^'""^'^" "y y°"' ""bborn faith 
 In the fierce fire and crucible of war 
 
 I need not urge you, who have heard the voice 
 
 Uf loyalty, and answered to its call. 
 
 Who has not read the in.ulto of the foe— 
 
 The manifesto of his purposed crimes ? 
 
 That foe, whose poison-plant, false liberty, 
 
 Runs o er hi. body politic and kills 
 
 Whilst seeming to adorn it, fronts us now ! 
 Threats our poor Province to annihilate. 
 And should he find the red men by our side- 
 Poor injured souls, who but defend their own— 
 t-alls black Extermination from its hell 
 To stalk abroad, and stench your land with slaughter 
 These are our weighty arguments for war, ' 
 
 Wherein armed Justice will enclasp her sword 
 And sheath it in her bitter adversary ; 
 Wherein we'll turn our bayonet-points to pens, 
 And wnte in blood : - fftre lies the poor invader ■ 
 6 ' 
 
MiaOCOTY RBOIUTION TEST CHAIT 
 
 (ANSI and ISO liST CHART No. 2) 
 
 1 2.8 
 
 |2J 
 J 2.2 
 
 1.8 
 
 ^ /APPLIED IMHGE In. 
 
 ^S^ 'BS-I East Main Stree, 
 
 ^^S Rochestar. Naw Yord 14G09 USA 
 
 ■■^= (^16) 462 - 0300 - Pt>on« 
 
ir 
 
 82 
 
 Tecumseh 
 
 Or be ourselves struck down by hailing death ; 
 Made stepping-stones for foes to walk upon — 
 The lifeless gangways to our country's ruin. 
 For now we look not with the eye of fear ; 
 We reck not if this strange mechanic frame 
 Stop in an instant in the shock of war. 
 Our death may build into our country's life, 
 And failing this, 'twere better still to die 
 Than live the breathing spoils of infamy. 
 Then forward for our cause and Canada ! 
 Forward for Britain's Empire — peerless arch 
 Of Freedom's raising, whose majestic span 
 Is axis to the world ! On, on, my friends ! 
 The task our country sets must we perform — 
 Wring peace from war, or perish in its storm ! 
 
 [Exciiement and leave-taking. The volunteers break 
 into column and sing : 
 
 O hark to the voice from the lips of the free ! 
 O hark to the cry from the lakes to the sea ! 
 Aim ! arm ! the invader is wasting our coasts, 
 And tainting the air of our land with his hosts. 
 Arise ! then, arise ! let us rally and form, 
 And rush like the torrent, and sweep like the htorm, 
 On the foes of our King, of our country adored, 
 Of the flag that was lost, but in exile restored I 
 
 And whose was the flag? and whose was the soil ? 
 
 And whose was the exile, the suffering, the toil ? 
 
 Our Pathers' ! who car\-ed in the forest a name. 
 
 And left us rich heirs of their freedom and fame. 
 
 Oh, dear to our hearts is that flag, and the land 
 
 Our Fathere bequeathed— 'tis the work of their hand ! 
 
 And the soil they redeemed from the woods with renown 
 
 The might of their sons will defend for the Crown ! 
 
 Our hearts are as one, and our spirits are free, 
 From clime unto clime, and from sea unto sea ! 
 And chaos may come to the States that annoy, 
 But our Empire united what foe can destroy? 
 Then awaj- ! to the front ! niarcli ! comrades away ! 
 In the lists of each hourcnnvd the work of a day ! 
 We will follow our leader to fields far and nigh. 
 And for Canada fight, and for Canada die ! 
 
 [E.XTtint with military music. 
 
SCENE IV. 
 
 SCENE FOURTH.- 
 
 Tecumseh 
 
 83 
 
 -Fort Detroit.— The American 
 Camp. 
 
 EnUr General Hull, Colonel Cass and other Officers. 
 
 Cass. Come, General, we must insist on reasons ' 
 Your order to withdraw from Canada ' 
 
 WiU blow to mutiny, and put to shame 
 1 hat proclamation which I wrote for you, 
 
 T^fT.'" P™'"^'>' '»'<^' " ^' are prepared 
 
 To look down opposition, our strong force 
 But vanguard of a mightier still to come I " 
 And men have been attracted to our cause 
 Who now will curse us for this breach of faith. 
 Consider, sir, again ! 
 
 T, ^^'\'" I am not bound 
 
 10 tack my reasons to my orders ; this 
 Is my full warrant and authority — 
 
 v,tTi„„. 1 , X^'''"''''g '« Ms Instructions. 
 
 yet, I have ample grounds for what I do. 
 
 Cass. What are they, then ? 
 
 lul!.'"''". • ,. J F'fs'. that this proclamation 
 
 Meets not with due response, wins to our side °'™"'°" 
 Ihe thief and refugee, not honest men. 
 These plainly rally round their government. 
 
 "th!^'i^opTe; "^^ "^' *"^'' '■'■"'"'■"s '»<=''™« - 
 
 If we must conquer them to set them free. 
 
 Hull. Ay, and our large force must be larger ariU 
 If we would change these Provinces to States 
 ihen. Colonel Proctor's intercepted letter- 
 Bidding the captor of Fort Mackinaw 
 wH- i'"u ^™ thousand warriors from the West, 
 Which, be it artifice or not, yet points 
 To great and serious danger. Add to this 
 Brocks rumoured coming with his volunteers. 
 All burning to avenge their fathers' wrongs. 
 And our great foe, Tecumseh, fired o'er his; 
 
84 
 
 Tecumseh 
 
 These are the reasons ; grave enough, I think, 
 Which urge me to withdraw from Canada, 
 And wait for further force ; so, go at once. 
 And help our soldiers to recross the river 
 Cass. But I see 
 
 ?"'"'" XT ,: No "huts"! You have my orders. 
 I.ASS. No solid reason here, naught but a group 
 Of fiimsy apprehensions 
 
 A.r?",'"'', . . Go at once! 
 Who kicks at judgment, lacks it. 
 Cass. j 
 
 T ""'■''• No more! 
 
 I want not wrangling but obedience here. 
 
 [■Exeunt Cass and other officers, incensed. 
 Would I had ne'er accepted this command ' 
 Old men are out of favour with the time, 
 And youthful folly scolTs at hoary age. 
 There's not a man who executes my orders 
 With a becoming grace ; not one but sulks. 
 And puffs his disapproval v/ith a frown. 
 And what am I ? A man whom Washington 
 Nodded approval of, and wrote it too ! 
 Yet here, in judgment and discretion both. 
 Ripe to the dropping, scorned and ridiculed. 
 Oh, Jefferson, what mischief have you wrought— 
 Confounding Nature's order, setting fools 
 To prank themselves, and sit in wisdom's seat 
 By right divine, out-Heroding a King's ! 
 But I shall keep straight on— pursue my course, 
 Responsible and with authority. 
 Though boasters gird at me, and braggarts frown. 
 
 {Exit. 
 
Tecumseh 
 
 85 
 
 SCENE FIFTH.-San,>w,c„. on .he Detroit -A 
 ROOM IN THE Baby mansion. 
 
 Enttr General Brock, Colonels Proctor GLEcr 
 Bw^^Macdonell, Nichol, Elliott "^'n/S 
 
 Baby. Welcome ! thrice welcome I 
 ?I!"'l^^™?' '° Sandwich and this loyal roof ! 
 I hank God, your oars, those weary levers bent 
 In many a wa- , jave been unshipped at last ■ 
 
 M?"°f *"• . I never led 
 
 Men of more cheerful and courageous heart, 
 ■tI . .f ' P'uck foul weather and short seas, 
 Twere tru h to say, had made an end of us. 
 Another trial will, I think, approve 
 The manly strain this Canada hath bred. 
 
 Proctor. 'Tis pity that must be denied them now 
 Smce all our enemies have left our shores. ' 
 
 BROCK. No, by ray soul, it shall not be denied ! 
 Our foes withdrawal hath a magnet's power 
 And pulls my spirit clean into his fort. 
 But I have asked you to confer on this. 
 What keeps Tecumseh ? 
 
 Elliott. -xis his friend, Lefroy, 
 
 Who now rejoins him, after bootless quest 
 Ut lena, Tecumseh's niece. 
 -.Brock. Lef , 
 
 I had a gentle playmate of that name 
 In Guernsey, long ago. 
 
 1 1?**\- '' """y be he. 
 
 1 know him, and, discoursing our affairs 
 Have Beard him speak of you, but in a strain 
 Peculiar to the past. 
 
 Brock. He had in youth 
 
 All goods belonging to the human heart. 
 
86 
 
 Tecumseh 
 
 But fell away to Revolution's side- 
 Impulsive ever, and o'er prompt to see 
 In kmgs but tyrants, and in laws but chains. 
 I Iwve not seen or heard of him for years. 
 Baby. The very man ! 
 
 ipf,°f„'L IT „ ,. "I's strange to find him here! 
 
 ELLIOTT. He calls the red men freedom's last survival: 
 hays truth is only found in Nature's growth— 
 Her first intention, ere false knowledge rose 
 To frame distinctions, and exhaust the world 
 
 "^ dreams ^^^ ""'* '** ^'"^ "'^ substance of their 
 But, Elliott, let us seek Tecumseh now. 
 Stay, friends, till we return. 
 
 [Exeunt Brock and Elliott. 
 
 A i^"?- .,• .. How odd to find 
 
 An old friend m this fashion ! 
 
 V«l^T>°^- f Humph! a fool 
 
 Who dotes on forest tramps and savages. 
 Why, at the best, they are the worst of men : 
 And this Tecumseh has so strained my temper 
 So over-stept my wishes, thrid my orders, 
 That I would sooner ask the devil's aid 
 Than such as his. 
 
 NiCHOL. Why, Brock is charmed with him 1 
 
 And, as you saw, at Amherstburg he put 
 Most stress upon opinion when he spoke. 
 Macdonell. Already they've determined on assault. 
 Proctor. Then most unwisely so! There are no 
 bounds 
 To this chiefs rashness, and our General seems 
 bwayed by it too, or rashness hath a twin. 
 
 NiCHOL. Well, rashness is the wind of enterprise. 
 And blows Its banners out. But here they come 
 Who dig beneath their rashness for their reasons. 
 
 Jie-tnter General Brock and Colonel Elliott, accom- 
 panied by Tecumseh, conversing. 
 
SCKNB V. 
 
 Tecumseh 
 
 87 
 
 We have been much abused ! and have 
 
 Tecumseh. 
 abused 
 
 Our fell destroyers too— making our wrongs 
 The gauge of our revenge. And, still forced back 
 ITom the first justice and the native right 
 Ever revenge hath away. This we would 'void, 
 And, by a common boundary, prevent. 
 So, granting that a portion of our own 
 Is still our own, then let that portion be 
 Confirmed by sacred treaty to our tribes. 
 This !s my sum of asking— you have ears ! 
 
 BROCK. Nay, then, Tecumseh, speak of it no more ! 
 My promise is a pledge, and from a man 
 Who never turned his back on friend or foe. 
 I he timely service you have done our cause, 
 Rating not what's to come, would warrant it. 
 bo, If I live, possess your soul of this— 
 No treaty for a peace, if we prevail. 
 Will bear a seal that doth not guard your rights. 
 Here, take my sash, and we^- it for my sake— 
 Tecumseh can esteem a so' . dr's gift 
 Tecumseh. Thanks, tha. s, my brother, I have faith 
 in you ; 
 My life is at your service ! 
 ^B^OCK. G.-ntlemen, 
 
 Have you considered my proposal well 
 Touching the capture of Detroit by storm ? 
 What say you. Colonel Proctor ? 
 
 Proctor. I object! 
 
 1 IS true, the enemy has left our shores, 
 But what a sorry argument is this ! 
 For his withdrawal, which some sanguine men. 
 Jumping all other motives, charge to fear. 
 Prudence, more deeply searching, lays to craft. 
 Why should a foe, who far outnumbers us. 
 Retreat o'er this great river, save to lure 
 Our poor force after him ? And, having crossed— 
 Our weakness seen, and all retreat cut off— 
 
m 
 
 88 
 
 Tecumseh 
 
 What would ensue but absolute surrender, 
 Or sheer destruction ? "r.s too hazardous ! 
 Discretion Ulks at such a mad de™"' ' 
 
 Brock. What say the rest ? 
 
 1ST Officer. r r... >•• • j- 
 
 Hi, l^M- "• '^^P'""'^ ''y Tecumseh, prove 
 A,^!i ^ ?"»'""""°'"' ''™«'f despondent. 
 Whlh*"''' ^"T"' '°''" 'he wilderness. 
 Which gives a thousand echoes to a tongue 
 
 And in this flux we take him, on the hinle 
 Of two uncertainties-his force and oursf 
 bo, weighed, objections fall ; and our attempt 
 Losing Its grain of rashness, takes its ri e '^ ' 
 
 iVrS 'f^'°^"l- "•'O'* effect will nerve 
 All Canada to perish, ere she yield 
 
 n^^l'^l^'""'' '^ y°" <J«=i<J« °" this. ^ *"" 
 
 ^^ E?""T=- -— :r^ '" " '"'^^' 
 
 lell h m fecumseh and his force are here— 
 
 Whn Ik T.!"'°" ''™°<^'''S on their wrongs. 
 Who, should resistance flush them to revenge 
 'Ynf ^"1'"'°"' "y ^ont'ol like windSe fire 
 And match on earth the miseries of hell ' 
 
 But should he yield, his safety is assured, 
 wu ? Jecumseh's word is pledged to this 
 
 A jj u * '°°*= '*'" '0 enforced rage 
 
 PI»r7i!*'/°"'' 'l"'^ ^'='*'" ; ''"' 'he stress 
 Place most on what I speak of-this he fears. 
 And these same fears, well wrought upon by you 
 May prove good workers for us yet 
 
SCENE VI. 
 
 Tecumseh 
 
 89 
 
 Glegg. I 
 
 And shall acquit myself as best I can. *°' 
 
 The guilty conscience of your foe, is judge ™"'"8* ' ' 
 Of their deserts, and hence 'twill be believed 
 
 Which perfected, we shall confer again, 
 1 hen cross at break of morn. 
 
 Tecumseh. f^"^'""' "'< ""' Tecumseh. 
 
 H.s^r.^^'"'*"'''''«^7»''-8f™m\us'l'4.'"'' 
 Has sent him to our aid. Master of Life, 
 
 tndue my warriors- with double strength ! 
 May the wedged helve be faithful to the axe, 
 ihe arrow fail not, and the flint be firm ! 
 1 hat our great vengeance, like the whirlwind fell. 
 May cleave through thickets of our enemies 
 A broad path to our ravaged lands again. 
 
 l£xif. 
 
 SCENE SIXTH._MooNLiGHT. The bank or i„e 
 Detroit R.ver. near the Baby mansion. 
 
 £»/er Captain Robinson. 
 
 The°^Th1' H ."!!."«'" '° """^ "^ ''""her here-poor boy 
 1 he day s hard labour woos him to his rest. ^' 
 
 wlZ '"^t' ">« I'ght ! how beautiful the place ' 
 
 Tbc^eo? silent ^°V^''' <"^ °^^ Sand^icS town ! 
 Abode of silence and sweet summer dreams- 
 Let speculation pass, nor progress touch 
 Thy silvan homes with hard, unhallowed hand ! 
 i he light wind whispers, and the air is rich 
 With vapours which exhale into the night ; 
 And round me here, this village in thi leaves 
 Darkling doth slumber. How those giant pears 
 rxiom with uplifted and high-ancient headsf 
 
90 
 
 Tecumseh 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 m 
 
 Like forest trees ! A hundred years ago 
 
 In fruitful Normandy- but here refuse, 
 Lnlike, to multiply, as if thuir spirits 
 
 So".'h^I^i!ri"'^''',.'''r l!°""-'- The village sleeps, 
 
 So should I seek that hospitable roof 
 
 Uf thme, thou good old loyalist, Baby ! 
 
 Ihy mansion is a shrine, whereto shall come 
 
 On pilgrimages, in the distant days, 
 
 The strong and generous youths of Canada, 
 
 And, musing there in rich imaginings. 
 
 Restore the balance and the beaver-pack 
 
 To the wide hall ; see forms of savagery, 
 Vanished for ages, and the stately shades 
 Of great Tecumseh and high-hearted Brock, 
 bo shall they profit, drinking of the past. 
 And, drinking loyally, enlarge the faith 
 Which love of country breeds in noble minds. 
 Hut now to sleep— good-night unto the world I 
 
 ■£«*>• Iena, in distress. 
 Iena. Oh, have I eaten of the spirit-plant ! 
 My head swims, and my senses are confused. 
 And all grows dark around me. Where am I ? 
 Alas ! I know naught save of wanderings. 
 
 Which L'll'^v'' ''°'°'"'' ""'«'''• "">« P^-'g i^ here. 
 Which all my pressing cannot ease awav ? 
 
 vfl. K ?T " '«°°'l'"g place, or where 
 Night-shrouded surges beat on lonely shores, 
 
 Burnevt'h 'V'? "y d^eP. dread, formless fears ; 
 
 ^ut, never have I felt what now I feel i 
 
 Great Spirit, hear me ! help me !— this is death ! 
 
 [Staggers and stvoom behind some shrubbery. 
 Enter General Brock and Lefrov. 
 
 I ,?r/h ^T.'"^^''^ "S""' ^^'°'^ ■' >'"'. f°f ™y part, 
 I stand by old tradition and the past. 
 
 {Exit. 
 
SCKNE VI. 
 
 Tecumseh 
 
 My f.ther'8 God is wise enough for me, 
 
 LKFROY. I tell you. Brock, 
 The wor d IS wiser than its wisest men. 
 And shall outlive the wiso ..n of its god^ 
 Made after man's own liking. The criDoled th™. 
 No longer shelters the uneafy king 
 And outworn sceptres and imperial' crowns 
 Now grow fantastic as an idio?s dream 
 And'tJ^"!','";"' "?' '''"Sly pastime, war, 
 BmhZ'.'"'"^ ^°°'' "'^ """"'"• Ignorance ! 
 Both hatelul in themselves, but this the vo«t 
 
 Whose name is Gold-our earliest, latest foe . 
 Him must the earth destroy, ere man can rise 
 
 P.^Ih'' f u^"^'=' '° ^'' '''8'' destiny, ' 
 
 r^ of his grossest faults ; humane and kind ■ 
 Coequal with his fellows, and as free ' • 
 
 the';or^d"'""'■ '"'" "'°"8'"'' ''' '•~»«' "'»"'» "reck 
 The kingly function is the soul of state, 
 The crown the emblem of authority. 
 And loyalty the symbol of ail faith 
 ^mittmg these, man's government decays- 
 Hia family falls into revolt and ruin. 
 But let us drop this bootless argument, 
 
 You fri T """■' u ^ """^ unrivalled wastes 
 K^ou ,nd Tecumseh visited. 
 
 1 .rRov. .„ . 
 
 The silent forest, and, day after day, ' 
 
 T„?„* i""'"" '"fP' ^^'-"^ <»"• aching sight 
 VorcelessTnH^f " West ; uncharted%ealms, 
 RoUed L^ calm, save when tempestuous wind 
 Xolled the rank herbage into billows vast. 
 And rushing tides which never found a shore. 
 
 rr« r" u°i"^'' '"^ ™'' of morning mist. 
 Cast flying shadows, chased by flying light, 
 
 Into interminable wildernesses. 
 
 9" 
 
 v 
 
9» 
 
 Tecunueh 
 
 l< f 
 
 k 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 Fluihed with fnth bloomi, deep perfumed bv the r«. 
 And murmurou, with flower-fe/bW and bW^ "" '"*• 
 The deep-grooved biion-paths like funowiuTv 
 1 urned By the cloven hoSf. of thunS he?d. 
 Pnmeyal, .nd still travelled .. of yore * 
 Sh".o*-^°"V;"T °P""^ •' our feet- 
 
 And^^ll'"' """'^ 'yP'"'" ""^ hoary pine; 
 And lunlesi gorges, rummaged by the wolf 
 Wh.ch through long reaches of the prtirfe wound 
 Then melted slowly into upland v.l«" °""* 
 
 Lkfrov ^^" .f'"'""'"u« '°',"'"'" 'And life wm there ' 
 LKFROV. Yes, life was there ! nexpllcable life ' 
 
 Still wasted by inexorable death. "P'"^°" '""• 
 
 1 here had the stately stag his battle-field- 
 
 Dymg for mastery among his hinds. 
 
 Boet h;. flittering eyes and hurrying feet 
 The dancing grouse, at their insensate sport 
 
 With folded arms, unconscious of the fate 
 That wheeled in narrowing circles overhead ; 
 And the poor mouse, on heedless nibbling bint 
 Marked not the silent coiling of the snake. 
 
 E „W *' *!*"'" » ''"P "«» »olemn,ound- 
 Erupted moamngs of the troubled earth 
 Irembling beneath innumerable feet. 
 A growing uproar blending in our ears. 
 With noise tumultuous as ocean's surge, 
 Of bellowmgs fierce breath and battle shock. 
 And ardour of unconquerable herds. 
 VVirh"du!Io^"''l-T '^'"P""« '^°°^ 'he plains, 
 As?f ttm ""P^ '°""^ ^"<* rumbling, deep. 
 As if the swift revolving earth had struck. 
 And from some adamantine peak recoiled, 
 
 T^IL . i w?"' **, '"PP^J » high-browed hill- 
 fhe last and loftiest of a file of su. l~ 
 
. n 
 
 KBNE VI. 
 
 Tecumseh 
 
 And. lo I before ui Uy the tanielen itock 
 Slow wending to the northward like « doud I 
 A mult tude in motion, d.rk and den,^ 
 tu ai the eye could reach, and farther still 
 ^"i^^^^'t'^T'^' "'etched for ma"y. league 
 
 Brock. You fire me with the picture ' What a «•-«. 
 
 Lekrov. Nation on nation wa. invi faaed the , 
 
 Who h.tH?"" !i "•""«" 'P«='' ""d PO" of war. 
 rT™^ s*'""*^.' i" ""••her-brawny bulk, 
 Roamed fierce and free in huge and wild cinten. 
 Kt™«*7j*""'""'' K'eetinl, fair and kinS 
 Knowing the purpose havenelin hi. soul ' 
 
 Vnilt • '°'"^^ ""' c""" " few men dare : 
 Mnnn^"' ""! *"?• '~Pi"g from his horse. 
 
 nr« l". T"";« *?"" '" f°»°'inf? flight. 
 Urge .t to fury oer its burden strange! 
 Yet cling tenacious, with a grip of sFeel. 
 Then by a knife-plunge. fetch it to its knees 
 
 TUI w?h?ri^ I*'?"' ™'*'' " '"ft «» down. 
 1 111 withered cheeks ran o'er with feeble smi es 
 
 BV<^r Thl°"« 'i'ent. babbled ofTheir'p mi. 
 
 BROCK. This warrior's fabric is of perfect naris i 
 A worthy clampion of hi, race-he hCf ^ 
 Such giant obligations on our heads "^ 
 As will outweigh repayment. It is late 
 And rest must preface war's hot work tomorrow 
 Else would 1 talk till morn. How stillTe n ghl ^ 
 
 And f^U f..""' I" ?r '"^"y «'"»es down. * ' 
 Ai^d falls asleep beside the lapping wave. 
 Wilt go with me ? 
 Lefrov. Nay, I shall stay awhile. 
 
 93 
 
 w 
 
94 
 
 Tecumseh 
 
 t ifr 
 
 Gc^°„ightrref!?;r "" ''""'^" ""* '"« coumersign- 
 Lefroy. Good-night, good-night, good friend I 
 
 Give me the open sleep, whose bed is e^^^"" ^''^''■ 
 W,th airy ceihng pinned by golden stars, 
 
 Ymr^i?*'* ?T^ ''°"^d^' P'»='«'«d "'"> =louds ! 
 sZm! il*'^>™'=¥"*P' '"'''" drum and drum. 
 Suits men who dream of death, and not of love 
 Love cannot die, nor its exhausted life 
 Exhaling hke a breath into the air, 
 Blend with the universe again. It lives, 
 Kiut to Its soul forever. lena ' 
 
 ?nah,''h 'ft ^°''=" ""<»-e"'h cannot claim 
 Aught but her own from thee. Sleep on ! sleep on ' 
 lENA. (Jlevivin^.) What place is this? ^ 
 
 lENA. Where am I now ? 
 Lefroy. i.|i f ,1 ^ 
 
 A desperate hope now ventures in my heart ' 
 Iena. Help me, kind Spirit ! 
 
 From'ouTa choir of angels ! lenl r'*^ ^'"^ '""' ""'^^ 
 
 T-isshe! -tisshel Speak tL^tltTa!^''"^ '"^ ^'"'*^'^- 
 No earthly power can mar your life again. 
 For I am here to shield it with my own. 
 
 Iena. Lefroy! 
 
 Lefroy. Yes, he ! 
 
 f t1*' I. . , ^y friends ! found, found at 'ast i 
 
 A^^l u ^^'""'•'^"•"'''•'"y love! I swear it on your lips' 
 And seal love's contract there ! Again— aKain— 
 Ah, me ! all earthly pleasure is a toil 
 Compared with one long look upon your face. 
 
 TInnn t ■ J^^ ?' t° "y '"«"<'' ' A faintness came 
 Upon me, and no farther could I go 
 
 Lefroy. What spirit led you here ? 
 ^^"^ My little bark 
 
3CENK VII. 
 
 Tecumseh 
 
 95 
 
 ^yonder by the shore-but take me hence ! 
 For I am worn and weak with wandering 
 Lefroy. Come with me then. ^ 
 
 Burns gainst him sti!l_he dare not do thee hurt 
 
 He rhh*J"" ' ""u^r <■" «^" 'Ws fiend?!^"^ 
 He stabbed me with his eye— ' 
 
 I^^usZ- meet again, and I shalUend'"""' ' 
 His curst soul out v'' this accursed world ! 
 
 [£xeun/. 
 
 THE Instance; cak„ok .., o^;ZJ^rrn:Zrt 
 
 Ent^r Tecumseh, Siaveta, and otA^r Chiefs and Warriors 
 
 "■ wrsf^alls^""^ '^ '"= ^°"^-^"-e-s fort, within 
 
 lt2T? ?J 'T*',°' '''"' °'"- 'ands to-day. 
 Fight for that little space-'tis wide domain ! 
 That small enclosure shuts us from our homes 
 There are the victors in the Prophet's strife^ 
 Within that fort they lie-those bloody men 
 Who burnt your town to light their triumph up 
 And drove your women to the withered woods 
 
 Ind hl'^th'^'n^" *^ ^"'-^ slow-creeping night. 
 And help their infants to out-howl the wolf 
 
 A ni ,W *'^^^°"^:^'?'^* S™''* '" head, not heart- 
 A pitiless and murdering minister 
 
 To his desires ! But let us now be strong, 
 
 And, If we conquer, merciful as strong r 
 
96 
 
 Tecumseh 
 
 I : I 
 
 
 m 
 
 Swoop like the eagles on their prey, but turn 
 In victory your taste to that of doves • 
 For ever it has been reproach to us 
 
 ii^^TA ""'""' °" ^'^ »'"> cruelty. 
 And dyed our axes m our captives' blood, 
 bo. here, retort not on a vanquished foe, 
 But teach him lessons in humanity. 
 
 S^l ""* *"■?]"'."■ '"''■""g '»«'<:'' breast, 
 Strain every rib for lodgment ! Wairiors ! 
 Bend to your sacred task, and follow me. 
 Stayeta. Lead on ! We follow you ' 
 
 Wm^h.^'- make a circuit i^^ "' '' '^^^^ ' 
 
 So shall the Long-Knives overcount our strength. 
 Do this, Stayeta. whilst I meet my friend- 
 My brave white brother, and confer with him. 
 
 Enter General Brock. Proctor, Nichol. Macdone,, 
 ajuloMer Offiurs and Forced o» the A/>W Tf 
 cws,fM goes down le meet them. "'Sxway. Te- 
 
 Brock. Now by God's providence we face Detroit 
 Either to sleep within its walls to-night ' 
 
 Or in deep beds dug by exulting foes. 
 Go. Nichol, make a swift reconnoissance- 
 We 11 follow on. 
 
 Nichol. I shall, but ere I go 
 
 I do entreat you. General, take the rear • 
 
 S^^?i""%"^ '■'•''l'"'''' P'*^''^ »-ithout the gate- 
 One raking fire might rob us of your life 
 And, this lost, all is lost ! 
 
 n,,?!"^"'!. , ^«" rae»n'. my friend \ 
 
 But I am here to lead, not follow, men ' 
 
 Whose confidence has come with me thus far ' 
 Go, Nichol, to your task ! 
 
 VExit Nichol. Tecumseh advances. 
 ■D L • ,■ • Tecumseh, hail ' 
 
 Brave chieftain, you have made your promise good. 
 
SCENE VII. 
 
 Tecumseh 
 
 97 
 
 Are npe for the assault. 
 
 wK' tandward flank, and .Ke'woX'™' 
 Whilst we advance in column to attack 
 
 S^na, our batteries oteSrXi'*'^ ^'""""• 
 
 Se steJdv'?°M"'" ^"^ ■' ^' ^^'"'y, Friends- 
 Be steady Now upon your countar turn 
 
 SiWn '"P'^'"i- "'°"8^"- ""d "rike for her - 
 ISft, JS ''T k",'"" ""^ ■""'""te horned ' 
 Sw£i" -I'"' M^ r^" " 'his hour ! 
 Mnke ! with your fathers' virtue in your veins 
 
 fBHt^J'^i'T""' °''' '° the atrcL?"' 
 liJROCK ami/oras advana towards tlu Fort. A hiam 
 mnnonadtngfrom the British datteZs. ^ 
 
 Rc-enler Nichol hastily. 
 
 Ant^f- a"n"^erXt:SX'n'- :-/- *»"- «-« > 
 Xh1'"V°"1J' .^''t think ;orNichol? 
 S Y^riookTthr '""""t'"" ■' The Fort is ours ! 
 
 ^^Siy^':i^^^^:.^n''^etitisi 
 
 [CP«r with flag of truce approaches. 
 
 An officer to ratify the terms. 
 
 [General Brock reads Utter. 
 
98 
 
 Tecumseh 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 Officer On,^"' " "."f ""'. P""**" commander I 
 
 OmcER And I^h;'""' " 8?°" ' "' ''"^'>' ''"'f his own 1 
 With ^i.f -5 """S! y""' demand of yesterday 
 With clearer judgment, doth accede to it, ^"""'y- 
 To bar effusion of much precious blood 
 By reasonable treaty of surrender. 
 
 OmcHR^HLi^r' ^"1"^"'- ""d ">« discretion ! 
 
 Glegg and Macdonell, go at once and sign 
 Those happy stipulations which restore 
 i'air Michigan to empire and the crown. 
 
 [£^,«»/ Glkgg, Macdonell W Officer with flag. 
 
 We shall await our officers' return- 
 But now prepare to occupy the Fort ' 
 With colours flying we shall enter it. 
 And mwtial music, as befits the scene. 
 «o Sunday ever saw a finer sight- 
 Three cheers for Canada and England's right ! 
 
 {Shmts and congratulations from the soldiery. 
 
 "^^^=^-^^fr^^--oF 
 Di|ne^^a;7t;:;''hi/h^ra^Hi„™:^""«--' 
 
 A deeper root than fear of him, thus yields : 
 ^hf^'j"- ""J""""'"" '"' 'he savage axe 
 Should dnnk too deeply in confused revenge 
 
SCENE VIII. 
 
 Tecufflseh 
 
 Hull f^*""" Glegg a«/ Macdonell. 
 
 To stop this bloody work i n.f '^"' "''"/ "''*<* 
 Into the hands of delth ' deferment played 
 Officer. „. . - ^. . 
 
 Seems burnished by its close. 
 wull. . 
 
 Bml iT^^Vei!-' "T °' ^°" con,m/„?r''' '"' "' 
 
 NS'.i::^v"s--aest. 
 
 Hi?E-ba1,tru^.^'^ ''"^ '"'"^ -'- of sJ^f^f • 
 
 [^ '^"''^^^fyfunu^rmma i„sulHn,fy surround 
 ^'""^"'^ '""'"•S "nd groaning. 
 1ST Volunteer. HmII i h u .u ^ 
 
 -r. Volunteer. Resist! W?rbacKu%r' 
 Some men are here in whose sincerit/"'"""' ""^""^ ' 
 And courage I have perfect faith-but vou i 
 You?,^n!!H"T''"""'y ""-^ "Utinous- " '~ 
 
 S and off, nor let me ! I regard you not 
 
 99 
 
Tecumseh 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 If' 
 
 I would defend this Fort, and keep it too. 
 Stand off, and let me pass ! 
 
 IST Vonm-TEER The GenerJ"^*" 
 
 Talks well, boys, when he's mad ! 
 
 Enter an Officer. 
 Officer. ¥»{\m\ FaUin! 
 
 Here come the Bntish troops— the Fort's surrendered ! 
 
 Enter General Brock and Forces, with Colours flying and 
 military music. The American so/diers sMlenly ^ound 
 arms, and march out of the Fort. 
 
 rx^l:°^^ ''"''" " * ''*PPy ^"^ ' You, Nicbol, make— 
 With Proctor— rough lists of our spoils of war, 
 Then join with us in grateful prayers to Heaven. 
 
 {Exeunt NiCHOL and Pr jctor. 
 
 EnUr Tecumseh ««rf Staveta (the latter wearing Brock's 
 sash) with other Chiefs and Warriors, and Lefroy. 
 
 Tecumseh. My valiant brother is the rising sun— 
 Our foes the night, which disappears before him i 
 Our people thank him, and their hearts are his ! 
 
 T^^°tl\ ^^''''' i"' '* misdirection ! For their thanks— 
 fhey fall to you, Tecumseh, more than me ! 
 And, lest what lies in justice should too long 
 Stand in expectancy— till thanks seem cold- 
 Take mine, Tecumseh ! for your services 
 Have won, with us, the honours of the day, 
 And you shall share its spoils. 
 
 Tecumseh. Freedom I prize, 
 
 And my poor people's welfare, more than spoils ! 
 No longer will they wander in the dark ; 
 The path is open, and the sky is clear. 
 We thank you for it all ! 
 
 ^'^°*^''' Nay, then, our thanks 
 
SCKNE VIII. 
 
 Tecumseh 
 
 We'llinterchange— take mine, as I take thine < 
 But how „ th« ? I, friendship', gift u„u,id V 
 Where IS my brother's sash ?— 
 
 Tecumseh. Tk.» •». t j 
 
 Conferred on me as on a r.rrior, " *"" ' *'~'"'*' 
 
 And, when I saw a worthier than myself, 
 I could not wear it. 'Tis Stayeta's iowl 
 He keeps it till he finds a worthier still. 
 
 Men^env^ fh ""'^ '^'<="'".«"' ' 'hou art still the best ! 
 Men envy their own merit in another— 
 Grudging e'en whaf s superfluous to themselves- 
 
 fts verStr"' ^"'""'^ integer, wouldst share 
 Its very recompense with all the world ' 
 
 WoT »/e"y pistols-take them from a friend- 
 
 T^^" '^.f? •• ^°"''' I had a richer ^ft ! 
 
 Brock''' " """^ friendship. ^ 
 
 WhauW^k you now of war ? ^^ ^''°^ ' 
 
 Lefrov. I, ,. . . . ,, 
 
 Nature's most intimate and injured men "" """** 
 I shall revoke my words and call it blest. 
 
 lOI 
 
 is! 
 
 Se-enUr General Hull. 
 
 T *?Vi'"j X°" "''ed not for my sword— but here it i 
 I wielded It in honour in my youth 
 And now to yield it, tarnished, in old age. 
 Vexes me to the soul. 
 
 mSfxrenton and Saratoga sneS'for'l^'; /'/v > 
 I little thought that I shouTd Ko knL ^^'"^'^ 
 In my gray years, this lumpy world again. ' 
 
 For lit^rtlTr"'"'' ""^^ '"•?™' "y heart aflame 
 Jor liberty, believe me, sir, this sword 
 
 Did much to baffle your imperious King i 
 
 Brock. That stands not in dispute, so keep -he sword - 
 Tis strange that those who foughf for liberty ° "^ ' 
 
 fmJii '^^ to wrench it from their fellowmen. 
 Impute not guilty war to Kings alone, 
 
102 
 
 Tecumseh 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 Yo,« h' '!'.* S*"'"* °^ Republic, too ! 
 HurS"^:' VVe,h,ll disci,, 1hTi„er. 
 
 I ^n^n'^ix^rrN.^^i;;''"'' """"*• •- p-p--' ' 
 
 And you for Montreal. 
 
 Till then, adieu I 
 _. f-^*'' General Hull. 
 
 T^^SEH. Why ,hould n.y brother leave Detroit ,o 
 
 Brock. Our foe, are massing at Niaeara 
 
 Tecumseh. t <,„ . . 
 
 My brother-, friend My, " Go 1 " h?,T " *"^ "*"• 
 Brock lyt,ij.\ S^ J ■"" y°" "y " Come ! » 
 
 (^-.TTcuJsl^t^rierdTrJltorf '"'^ '"S""" ""i^"" 
 fni here. Proctor, prudence may be use- 
 
 Tecumseh. I do misgive me o'er my brother's friend. 
 Jie-iHttr NiCHOL and Proctor. 
 A ^^^°^ Large stores, munition,, public Dronertiw • 
 A bng of war, and military chest— 
 These are the ,poils of bloodless victory 
 
 7n LiwJ '"f'i '''""''^ red-lettered =tand 
 In all the calendars c our loved land ! 
 
 [Exeunt, 
 
 end of fourth ACT. 
 
ACT V. 
 
 Slier Chorus. 
 Chorus q Canada I 
 
 Bnght youth among the graybeards of the earth, 
 Dark days have come upon thee 1 Brock i7s a n- 
 That spirit glorious who fired thy soul, 
 And led thee to renown and victory. 
 Alas ! the rare advantages he won. 
 By weak successors (equals in command, 
 But, oh, of what inferior mould in greatness i) 
 
 R^r„ ''''.• ''! '"P ""'° 'he "inds.lhy ho^^ 
 By an untimely armistice destroyed, 
 Those fleets he would have captured from the foe 
 But for a hateful truce on him enjoined, ' 
 
 ?l"i^'Ji"? 'f '^'f '"■"■ equipped, and loosed 
 To lord it o'er thee or the lakes. One bore 
 Destruction to thy upper Capital- 
 
 n„% • "u"^"' ""y P°"'y fufished hulls 
 On Erie s bosom, and with hosts of men 
 
 O la Jenlhl k"'"*'"!?V^°"' *>«■• ">*■» down. 
 U lamentable hour, which paves the way 
 
 io sad remaining scenes-a coward's part. 
 
 And the last pulse-beat of a hero's heart. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 SCENE FIRST.-The Indian Council House. 
 Amherstburg. 
 
 Enter Baby and Elliott. 
 
 vJ^t^^'^.Z"' ^"i°"' "''»' ""■"•' yo" keeps our fleet? 
 We heard the crash of battle yesterday, 
 And still no tidings come. 
 
 ">3 
 
104 
 
 Tecumteh 
 
 Astutely uiged, md too politely granted 
 Some chance politene.,,5 obstruct themaelve. 
 L.ke meeting men who .huffle in the Zt ' 
 
 A ^1 X beat, Sheaffe'. wll^ lul7"JZ' 
 
 «-oolmg them to contemnr t;ii ;» . • ' 
 
 EU..OJ.. Would that by preac'll&eou.d.nend the 
 Even Tecumseh he insults, whose cause 
 
 ACT V. 
 
XCBNI I 
 
 Tecumteh 
 
 (Who i> u good ■ lubititute for Hull 
 A. oun . poor one for immorul Brock) 
 W«,w transport to invade u. in largeforce. 
 So-l«t our General mean, to bSt reS^^ 
 
 EluotT^I.^" V ""l' • ^« "« »« in ~n.nand. 
 
 iSABV, _ 
 
 wny EUiott, we might a< well expect 
 Light from a cave, as leadership bom him. 
 
 What news. McKe.?^'""**'^^"' 
 
 £fl^Us captured. a^d^C^ir '-'"'- 
 Has issued orders to retreat 
 Baby. a 
 
 Which ofttimes pre^ligests calamities. 
 
 But this retreat-how looks Tecumseh at it? 
 
 McKee I never saw him in so strange a temper 
 Calm on the surface, but convulsed benjath '^ 
 Just poising on the edge of whirling rage 
 And T ^"»"8"i" hi» chiefs and warriors, 
 vynerein I look for deep outbursts of wrath 
 
 E Il^/r'' ''''"'?« ■"■"' P'««"ds our flelt 
 
 i» absent for repairs— a foolish lie. 
 
 Which yet will deepen what it but prorogues. 
 
 •OS 
 
I0< 
 
 Tecumaeh 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 H,d we'but power .„d .i„e enougMom"^?'""'" 
 
 H»d we command ; for Proctor will r««., , 
 He feel, endangered in a S .«« * ' 
 
 At Old Miami and at Raisin River 
 Wh^"ri»h, ™ *""•• ^y 'he enemy. 
 
 ^»*r Genxral Proctor. 
 PRoc^nii P.,^„- ^^""'d Brock were still alive I 
 
 Would .till forefend retreat "^ ' 
 Proctor. (j„~ . 
 
 HifHtlT' ,u A fault in him! 
 
 In him example, striving to excel 
 •tI« ^l^P^ T^^ •"■"■ «='='«'» of his life. 
 With but a handful, taken by surprise. 
 "^';;i^" "7 "^ tT'^ ' -^ -^h the words. 
 Oh, such a fall atoned for such afault ; 
 
KCNI I. 
 
 TecuniMb 
 
 For by tlut Ml he luh«d his followert 
 
 No, turn u. ,o , hue retrct from"° ' 
 
 Thouund. to hundred, is hi, argument 
 
 An^'rJJS'.W^ ou,.up;iSr'si.m; 
 W,J^rLI°*^ ^ '=«"'«' in the air. 
 
 i-e*t tune desert our opportunitv *"=*«"* ' 
 
 fK^?«""^«--^«y.o.hi.? 
 Who bark, at all I do^ must come wi,!. uJ"*"' ' "* 
 
 ButSeast to make a deTS:^.:",^;"'" "=""= 
 ^.s wen to ,a, it lest he cross mr^T 
 
 r™,M ' P™'*' ""^ »" "•« forest'sTOmb. 
 Could sweeten such a tongue. 
 
 Baby. ° i .u^ . 
 
 The to idea of this chief; his Lfnd ' """ '"" 
 C^^wrh'i;";^^.':;^^— '"e-n: 
 
 ^^.. Tecumseh <,«^ a «„„«,„ ,y Chief, and Warrior,. 
 
 An/p'S'h our preparations-^"''' ' """' «°' 
 Tecumseh. (Confronli^ Proctor.) Stay, my friend ! 
 
 107 
 
Io8 
 
 Tecumseh 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 Proctor. I cannot stay; speak to him, gentlemen. 
 
 VouTrrCiol!!:^r *" '^"-'■^ ' - ^ecumsi^''^- 
 Proctor. What means this madman ? He is in«,lent. 
 Tecumseh. Brother ! Mv nennl» ,^ u.r (Aside.) 
 
 In the last war, the BritishlXr"^" "^'"'^ '"'" "»" ' 
 Our chiefs the hatchet, and they fought for him ■ 
 But m that bloody strife the Long-Knl e Uid ' 
 
 Our r™* "Pr *"' '»'='' ' "'>«'«»' he took 
 Our foes, without our knowledge, by the hand 
 Again the Long-Knife warred up^n Ae King 
 Again our father handed us the Me, * ' 
 
 With promise that our lands would be restored 
 We have not shrunk from battle. We ^»e7oueht 
 And many of our people have been slain" * ' 
 Our promise IS redeemed ! but what of his ? 
 Oft have we heard you, boasting of him, say 
 
 v.. „Tk™"'^. '^""'™'' from British ground. 
 Yet, neither asking nor advising us. 
 We mark you now preparing to retreat- 
 Afraid to even see his enemies ! 
 My brother, you are like a lusty doe 
 Which proudly curls 's tail upon its back, 
 Bu^ when affrighted, whips it 'tween its lees. 
 
 1 he Long-Knives have not yet defeated us 
 By land, nor is it certain that your ships 
 Are captured on the lake ; but, even so 
 First fight, and if defeated, then retreat I 
 But, brother, if you will not fight, you hold 
 The amis our father furnished fo^ bur use. 
 Give these to us, and you may go in peace. 
 My people are in our Great Spirit's care ' 
 We are determined to defend our lands, 
 
 r1»?*wI, ' l^"!'"* "'*'" *'"' °" bones. 
 Baby. Why, this is manliness, and pathos, too i 
 
SCENE I. 
 
 Tecumseh 
 
 109 
 
 T^S'^kHt? N<"'P«- .hen,, brother? 
 
 ?Seh B vVf "^^ ''"'"°"P»'« '"em. 
 
 ours ' ^'"'°"- ^o" ^'«'"' Those a™, are 
 I would not quarrel lightly with my friend 
 Nor cut the bands which bind me to w" cause 
 fc: t?h" °^'^""°'' '.»'" '""^ "■» 
 And we shall have them. 
 
 wf^^oTspare them e J"' ''""' "="*=" ' 
 
 Tecumseh. a_j . 
 
 The tijnid woman and the chifd"^ifcd""' ' 
 And struggle when assaulted by their ki^d • 
 Nay. hares resist, and gnats and flies wiUfight 
 A„"5:K°|;i™'''^'°»''---fe-.' 
 Proctor. The' wildest talk in sleeo 
 
 Outmeasures this in sense. We mu " rett^t < 
 Tecumseh. Musi i mn=t 1 nu f™^' • 
 Brock, ■ °''' ~'''<^ "y 'kindred spirit. 
 
 But live again-be here— would he retreat? 
 tH'"'k^T'".''"''-'"« "hy should compare 
 Oh KwT.''^ '*"= """^ Brave Brock retreat • 
 Oh when that badger was abroad, does hid ' 
 
 And gave the lie to nature ! Here we stay 
 
 Whilst you make off in peace. 
 Proctor. t. . 
 
 1 mean to give those arms, but for a use * ^ 
 
 Is but to'fi^H*." ''°" """'"^ P"' '"*"' '°' R«reat 
 q ,^! f .?'"'/°°l« "antage in the woods- 
 Some footing for defence ; so, come iriTh us • 
 I would not ask you else. ' 
 
no 
 
 Tecumseh 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 W^Si^"„'!,rfr^« '" '"•= '-'«■'« Pool- 
 
 4Ke „h, and .herefl^St!'''*'^- 
 Then let h.m come with us or sUy; I caie not. 
 
 Duties to which he never paid bis duty ; 
 Sacred agreements, oaths and covenants 
 
 KstZf ''T^ "l!^ '"«»• Coward and liar ! 
 1 here s something here that whispers to my hand 
 
 To set you free from aU. [■"'■'•«"''£ Ms hatchtt. 
 
 Elliott ^^'''"' ^'•'■^°" "«'' McKee interpose. 
 RABv^k- ■ Tecumseh, hold I 
 
 Babv. This IS unworthy of you. Be a man I 
 
 Without which I should suffocate and die : 
 To love my injured people, and oppose 
 
 inhnrVT' '^"i"" '"""ItuoSs wrongs- 
 If his IS lack of manhood mark me down.^ 
 
 Our mighty sacrifices and our service 
 Rated as nothmg in this coward's plans- 
 It rends my soul. Back! I shall chop his own 
 
 nrn?V" '^^■"f-.^"^ ^^"'1 'he mouW o he" 
 w"J° *"« people's hell ! Away ' 
 
 McKeE. ' Mil 
 
 Elliott. Stay, be advised by us ! ''° 
 
 Babv. n [Proctor «/»„. 
 
 We are your friends-you know us°tot' fr^u"' ' 
 
 And we, like you, despise this General. 
 
 !■ ear bares the coward's heart. The gaudy acts 
 
SCENE II. 
 
 Tecumseh 
 
 r^e^^^J'T^""" '■'"" "^ "«Jit up 
 
 And thus far we are with you. But retreat 
 Hath a discreetness too. This Harri.nn 
 Once landed (for our long and S shores 
 Tud'^wT r'^"/'f«"''). "ight circle us. 
 But 'hv ,"™''^'':""8 """''«"■ hem us in. 
 And ^ ^'^*- "^ ''"^ "'^ choice of place, 
 And Harr.son-you know the man-will fo»ow 
 The forest w.I befriend us-we can stanr 
 
 -f« you had dealt with Proctor, if I lie 
 
 Tecumseh. My friend, your reason breaks a spirit's 
 That ne'er touched ground before. Oh, I grow weak 
 ?Seriume^r'"'"l''"'' "'^ '^"''"ed fromry d^'amT 
 And &™te ^'■''°P'-f»te's shadow covers itf 
 l^i . forebodings peer into my soul. 
 I am not what I was-there-there-111 go ! 
 
 iJABY. I hope to see you smile at this ere long. 
 
 [£:xeu»f. 
 
 '"'^TlvSrCr.t T°'' ~^- AMHEKSXB.KO.- 
 AiJ-i-UMbtHS t^AMP. — A VISTA Tn Tiin' !?.*.«, 
 
 -N'S VPPKK H,« j„„ KISINo\bov™xL'^.:^1',ZoT 
 
 ^«fer Warriors aW Josakeeds. 
 f^ir weapons towards the sun 
 Vance facing it. 
 
 The warriors extend 
 The JoSAKEEDs ctd- 
 
 Yohewah ! the Great 
 
 1ST JosAKEED. He comes ! 
 
 Spirit, comes 
 
 Up from his realm -the place of Breakine Lisht i 
 
 Hush, nations ! Worship, in your souIs,The KiL 
 
 Above all Spirits ! Master of our lives ! ^' 
 
'" Tecumseh actv 
 
 I-je-as ! He that treads upon the day. 
 And makes the light ! 
 
 Th^V,°^/^^^''- ^l '^"'^ '■ ''e =<"»«« •' he comes ! ' 
 The ever-dymR, ever-living One ! 
 
 He hears us, and he speaks thus to mine ears ' 
 
 I wipe once more the darkness from the earth • 
 
 I look mto the forest, and it sings- 
 
 The eaves exult ; the waters swim with joy 
 
 I look upon the nations, and their souls 
 
 Strengthen with courage to resist their foes 
 
 1 wi 1 restore them to their fathers' lands • 
 
 A J e?,T '!"«'"" °" "'« e^'h, like rain. 
 And fill the forest with its ancient food. 
 Corn will be plenteous in the fields as dust. 
 And fruits, moved to their joy, on every bough 
 Will glow and gleam like ardent fire and gold 
 
 We see thy body, and yet see thee not. 
 The spirits in our forms, which no man sees, 
 Breathe forth to thee, for they are born of thee. 
 Hear us, thy children, and protect our lives ' 
 Uur warriors retreat— it is thy will ' 
 Declare the way— the fateful time to stand ! 
 Then, :f m battle they decline in death, 
 Take then., O Master, to thy Mighty Heart- 
 irl ^'""ous Ground and Shining Place of Souls I 
 Yohewa ! Master of Breath ! Yohewa ! 
 Hear us ! Hear us ! 
 
 *'-'" Master of Breath— hear us ! 
 
 [Exiuiit. 
 
SCENE III. 
 
 Tecuniseh 
 
 "3 
 
 SCENE THIRD.-The same. 
 
 A giri's voice singing wilkout, then enter Iewa Winom^i 
 Weetamore and other Indian mai^^-^l^^'t 
 qutll-work, others embroidering. """"'" «""' "' 
 
 lENA. There is within my heart, I know not .h. 
 
 An apprehension I ne'er felt before. ^' 
 
 HiTr'^l' 15,^ "'«''*-™'' '*' "■" <='°''d. and curling mists 
 Hid the plumed star .u. , sight, vlayhap, thoseK 
 Bode danger to our lov.3. Sing, rt^eetamore- ^ 
 Your tender voice will charm away our fears. 
 
 wny 13 it all our people's songs are sad ? 
 
 [A bird's note is heard. 
 
 Kn^rwTyi^irrnr"'^^ "°'""'''^^°"P°°'''W 
 
 X J^l*' u , " ■' ">e »ood Pewee, 
 
 That haunts the deepest forest. Tis the bird 
 Yohewa gave to solitude for voice— 
 Tte lonely heart within the lonely heart ! 
 Wiy comes this feathered sadness from its wilds. 
 To thnll us with its pain ? 
 
 £nter Mamatee. 
 
 ,, O Mamatee ! 
 
 Mamatee. Alas, alas, the Long-Knife's big canoes 
 Are on the lake, and sweeping to our shores ! 
 *ort Maiden burns ; our warriors retreat ■ 
 And we, poor souls ! must fly to densest woods. 
 And wait till they return ? 
 
 A^ri; K„ . Till they return- 
 
 Ah I when shall they return ? 
 
 8 
 
 m\ 
 
"4 
 
 Teciunseh 
 
 Enter Lefroy. 
 
 With parting in bis eyes. """ """" "^^ '""''• 
 
 BulTw.^ ,»,» You speak the word ! 
 
 out. If we part, we part to meet again 
 
 ;SWd, thus, to leave you for love's sake makes swp,.t 
 
 Lefsov Tn .l.^="«»^ //"'■" I«NA in Mamatee's arm 
 AS is the Intercessor to your race. 
 
 j^"^- No" let me go-see-I am well agifef ^"'°''- 
 Aa impulse nses from the seat of dreams- ' 
 Loves apprehension may be cured by love. 
 Winona, will you help me ? ^ 
 
 ll»?v- ., u Sister, how? 
 
 lENA. Your brother, Chaska, is a slender vouth 
 With features softly fashioned Tis a bo? ^ ' 
 
 vl^^^ °"" '=°"'*'"' " venturous soul, 
 vou make a young brave's suH for him, I think 
 
 WmoN? wr^i)°''* ?'=' '^' ""= ''"« 'his dress. 
 WINONA. With all my heart : but tell me lena 
 
 lEM^"' this strange request ? ' ' 
 
 I there shall tell you all I have i^^nd ''°"' '""^^ ' 
 
 [Exeunt Iena and Winona. 
 
 ^Hi 
 
 ! 
 
 ^^H| 1 
 
 f 
 
 H 
 
 
SCCNB III. 
 
 Tecunueh 
 
 '5 
 
 Ere lena can come'to ch7de t Je stta "^'^ '"'" 
 (Weetamore siitgt.) 
 
 Who would not be a forest-maid, 
 
 And ever spend at ease 
 riie flowery season in the shade 
 H.,. V,S'"''S sammcr's sweetest trees ? 
 
 wV?'"' ^ "■ fo'^t-maid, 
 Beset by foes and fears ? 
 Tosee in every flash a blade, 
 
 io start at every sound she hears ! 
 We flit_we fl^-no home have we 
 Ar.. terror is the tale! ' 
 
 A fate >s whispered by the Iroe- 
 A doom is uttered by the gale. 
 Z ^V' -S'l'Sht have we? 
 But that of pam is long j 
 And so, 'tis sorrow, ancTnot glee, 
 That gives the burden to our song. 
 VP««fer lENA, *„,,rf ^ „ ^„^„^ ^^.^^ ^^^ 
 
 lENA ^' ""'* " ^"«' ■' 
 
 But. Sisters, lock this secret in youj^hearts""' 
 Loves Sptnt whispered in a dream-" c'' .W^ 
 your /over in /Ae^gi//" ^o, sAu/J 
 
 awD Maiden. a j 
 
 3KB Maiden. A sacred dreatl"""' ' ^''^'" ' 
 
 We promise to be true, 
 
Ii6 
 
 Tecumseli 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 Smnt of Love I Spirit of Love ! 
 
 That in Grait Nature's heart doth dwell • 
 Spm of Love I Spirit of Love ! ' 
 
 Oo with our sister— shield her well ! 
 
 SCENE FOURTH THE R„,.s ok Fokx MxtnEN 
 AT Amherstburg. 
 
 Enur General Harrison a«J otA^r American Offlcrs. 
 
 all gone! Naught here but 
 
 Harrison. All gone! 
 smoking niins 1 
 
 Were that man only Proctor. Perfidy! 
 Thy manager has fled ; and we are balked 
 tn our just vengeance. 
 
 Th!.^°""^"- , Let us follow him I 
 
 There are no ties 'twixt mercy and this man 
 That we should spare him. 
 
 c,.^*?'"f''- ^ No, his ruthless axe, 
 
 Stayed only by Tecumseh's noble rage. 
 Has lit upon too many helpless heads 
 
 We^iS oWhlf ' "w^ *■'"'" "■«* ""' °«^ force 
 we can o erwhelm his if we overtake him. 
 
 fortun^"?" '^''^ ''™"«« ■r— " hugs hi. flying 
 3Ri> Officer. Think you he is gone ?. 
 
 "D''0FF°.cER''°Haf h°'"' '"* r""* "^ '^^ "» "ere. 
 
 have made' *"' '""""""'' ""^ "'s''' P'^^^ance 
 
 Our peace with him, and ended this long feud 
 
 onTrt"!; ^'"^ P^"" """ ''™' There is no peace 
 For him, save in it. We are what we are ■ 
 And If some miracle will work a change 
 In us, then shall we find him, as we would. 
 
"7 
 
 SCENE V. Tecumseh 
 
 Kno«"nf!h''"' ""•' P*™- ™. much I «,, 
 
 AnH P^^' Tecunueh, we discuss; 
 And Proctor we must capture if «e can. 
 
 Enter a Scoxrr. 
 What tidings have you gathered ? 
 
 I. mZg for the Height, of BSo'n""" 
 Tis said Tecumseh made him pledge hii word 
 To stand, and fight at the Moravian Town 
 Should we pursue «»«n lown, 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 Tow° ^^ ^"*'"==' "^-^^ ™«: Moravian 
 
 Enter Tecumseh and his Chl,h (-•■.„.„ 
 
 Colonel Babv aS.lTo^^'tni p?°^"' 
 Orderly. ^JBum, and Proctor's 
 
 Tecumseh. I'll go no further. 
 
 Towa^tSe heigUts-'twere weiu""'' ^"'*"- 
 
 t ECUMSEH. vr« 
 
 Were they the Alleghanies ! Hefe^e'sUnd ^'^ 
 The enemy draws near, and we must fight ' 
 
 PROCXOR. We.,, here we stand-het shall I Uy „y 
 
 If so God wills it. Ha-I like the spot! ' 
 A nver to protect us on our left • 
 Swamps to the north, and forest everywhere. 
 What a gigantic panoply of woods 1 
 
ii8 
 
 TecumMli 
 
 ACT V, 
 
 Wilh th!l! ■"."»?'«» 'oiree three men could girth 
 5!!1?"-K. <»'«»««>'<"*«". brother; th«are.^^ 
 
 .S"; Jk? •"""'" "' ''*" o'"*-'" with 
 
 Th!rlf!\""*J"°"t",''8 "''• Their underbrush. 
 No «.?i^ ""'' '*"8'ed with the blistering vin™ 
 \«Z17 ""^ P"»- ^*"'"" 'hem lie! 
 
 Where I shall plant m^ brave,; but this straight nath- 
 ^« highway by the riVer-is your ground * ^ 
 
 WhH.f ^?f ^°"' !^"J"°''' """l *'»" «»*. 
 wniist I oppose it there. 
 
 £nter a Scout. 
 
 The enemy approaches-we can hJJ?'"' ""'"'• "" ' 
 His trumpet-calls resounding through the woods. 
 
 The"trS°h™7'""'' '"'"'/■ "y opinion sidefShSr' 
 
 We two shall stand or fall upon this field. 
 And fame it to all time. ^ 
 
 TkCUMSEH. ir.. , , 
 
 I pn>y you. brother ; all will thus be ^dl'""" ''*"' 
 
 [JSxeunt Tecvkskh and his Chiefs. 
 BABy. I think this disposition excellent. 
 Proctor. It is, it is. Now let us fight it out I 
 
 UpUfted by what threats it ; this is one. 
 Uo. gentlemen, and marshal up our force— 
 
KENE V. 
 
 Tecumaeh 
 
 I shall await you here. 
 
 "9 
 SUy you with me, 
 I have inilrnctioM for you. ^^' '^' O"'"""-) 
 
 [.£*»«/«//#,/ Proctor and his Orderly. 
 We^»»y be beaten here- ^''"■«'""«" 
 
 oS' ^" """ '»" 'o- «»''«h"nlt7 "^ 
 
 %St.' •""'''• »«y-(««;*)tutM'',!:;.tha„ 
 
 Go, put my fleeteit honet to my carriage • 
 Have others ready-saddled in oir rear* ' 
 
 They may be useful in emei^ency. 
 
 Tf,.^ [.ff*«VORDlRLy. 
 
 If there are seasons m the soul of man, 
 AS in the year, it is my bleakest now. 
 How many rail at me, and call me coward, 
 ^ecause with prudent outlook I foresee 
 V. hat can be done and what can not be done 1 
 
 %^^T '?''""■' """'«'' «° ^ mi«:oncdv%; 
 ro find one's actions and one's qualities 
 
 R„^K . *u^ °".e « not, might well offend. 
 But that which guides my life enables me 
 lo bear against the rub of false opinion ; 
 Mk prudence, miscalled cowardice by those 
 
 lecumseh foohshly resolves to die— 
 
 A^H^-fl'^^w" '"':'' °^^' =»" hope to live ? 
 And, If there be a virtue in mere death, 
 Then IS he welcome to his grave and all 
 The honour and the glory death can give. 
 
 C.ii°'' 1''° l'"™ ^""^ business still on earth- 
 Something to do that cannot else be done- 
 l-ook on this matter with a different eye 
 
tte 
 
 Tecunteh 
 
 Mu,t .p« c„ j„dg„en,l,„ to Son. 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 l£xi/. 
 
 SCENE SIXTH.-T«:„.„„, ,,„ „, „. ^.^ 
 ^•/(W Tecumsih. 
 
 ur sinK to rise no more 
 
 1ST Scout. ''*""• - . . , . 
 
 «~o Scout. I,ee.hen,con,ing. ul^kraX!^:;.^^ 
 
 (J^ritf, ami other toumis of «»,a,w ^f"""'- 
 
 A.^r^„^i^-^f|e^e.a„a then. ceased 
 
SCCNE VI. 
 
 Tecumaeh 
 
 T»CUM,,„. I, i.; .h, Factor, how «y ^i „u,™.u 
 Mut sUy~here come* a witness of the fight. 
 
 £iiltr LtnoY, tHtofbriath, anitxtiltd. 
 
 4'^:^^^,:^:^, ^ ^^-K- Of ho«. 
 
 If so God willed it— 
 
 IT ^"fi?^ Willed it otherwise I 
 
 Upon the insunt of attacic he fled ; """"* ' 
 And, seeing this, the line gave way at once 
 
 R«l^ 'heir lightning down upon this slave I 
 ^ow rom" such crest.ires 'mongst the breed of men 
 1 o malie .l,eir naUon blush ? *" 
 
 Lefsov 
 
 Uke sulphur in rain-channel. after «X,r ""• 
 Or htUe frogs, one marvels how they come. 
 But some fought well ; Baby, among the rest. 
 Who now IS prisoner. Myself was ived 
 Most strangely by a boy_a youthful brave. 
 
 I never saw so s- j-t a lad before. 
 His face I I started when I saw it first- 
 It seemed so like to lena's I Think you. 
 Could she be here? 
 
 Tecumseh. Impossible ! 
 
 Dahcota Chief. No no 
 
 Twa, Chaska, of our nation ; one who longs 
 For plumes before his lime. He ha, been seen, 
 Yet IS so active that we cannot catch him 
 
 i>i 
 
1 1 
 
 " Tecumseh 
 
 Lefhov. Ah, then, 'twas he! This 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 me, '•■" ""y he ran before 
 
 Th^n H^'ff"^'' ?"8le of the lower swamp. 
 
 Then darted into it. I followed fast, 
 
 And sought, but could not find him-he was gone 
 
 T^r.„""'^'^°""''WKnivescome.. 
 
 Courage! Warriors, courage ! Let our deeSs " ""^ ™'"'- 
 
 Take colour from the scenl. Now must we fieht 
 
 Uke men ; not run like slaves. What mrttera it 
 
 To those who fled, and left us, if they flee ' 
 
 They can jom palms, make peace, draw trities un 
 
 And son and father, reconciled againf ^' 
 
 WhLh Ifat'h t '""f !! "■"* «'"^ '" ">'eir race 
 Which hath despoiled our own. For us, no oeace 
 Save what our axes gain, or, in our graves ^ 
 K™?""'.""" fore-doomed to war or death- 
 Let valour make excuse that we shall live, 
 
 r;i p^ir;rrw^-X'^^^^^^^^^ 
 
 For something whispers to this fearless hJ^!l' 
 Here must I flght. and for my people die ! 
 
 yrirm^en!"- ^''" ''^" ^ ««»' -" <»- with 
 D..HCOTA Chief. Or live to see you Chief of all our 
 
 (^ flourish without, then enter the American Forces A 
 fi'rce hand-to-hand conflict begins) 
 
 "^"rba^ckP"'"'^ "«'"""■"«' ^''^''fe-i beat 
 Staveta. Pursue! pursue! 
 
SCENE VI. 
 
 Tecumseh 
 
 i»3 
 
 {Tkt American Troop, retreat fighting. Ejceunt omn. . ) 
 Enter Iena, from behind. 
 
 Th-f^™^!- If , ., ^ ^^''' ys' cannot see. 
 
 The dreadful fray ! My arrows all are spent. 
 There are a thousand in my quivered heart 
 '1^". \ *?"' ™»'* 'hem to this useless bow. 
 .Vha shall I do ? Ah, this is our own tree ! 
 It will protect me whilst I wait the end. 
 
 {Retires behind a large sugar maple. 
 Reenter a small band of Brakes, driven back by Soldiers 
 who chase them out and then return. 
 
 "wflvelT ""' ^' """'^ ''^-'^"' ^'^ '=■«= •"-"ted 
 Away, and start another pack ! 
 
 ^ lENA. iZoohing out.) Alas ! ^^"'"" ^'"^'"^''^ 
 
 Our people 'gin to flee— I fear— I fear. 
 
 Here comes my love ! Oh, for one arrow more 1 
 
 Enter Lefroy and an American Officer fighting with 
 tree, and pause. ' 
 
 Officer. You are a white man. 
 
 Lefroy. t u- 
 
 Officer, And what a soulless one are y™' wYo'l'Sv?"' 
 Your place m civil, good society ^ 
 
 To herd with savages ; from one extreme 
 i-aUing away unto the basest side— 
 The furthest from the humanized world. 
 
 Lefroy. Nay, I deny it ! Further, I would say. 
 My genius leans, like Nature, to all sides 
 Can love them all at once, and live with all 
 
 Well, that is nothing; I must try and kill you. 
 
 [They fight again, and Lefroy disarms the Officer. 
 
i»4 
 
 Tecumseh 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 Lefroy. Now might I kill you if I had the heart. 
 Be prisoner instead ; I cannot kill 
 A man thus, in cold blood. 
 
 He-enter two Soldiers. 
 ^I^f^""- „n. . Tis more than kind. 
 
 My carbine is unloaded. 
 
 (Seeona Soldier aims at Lefroy. Iena, with a cry, leais 
 from her shelter and intercepts the shot.) ' 
 
 Lefroy. Who is this ? 
 
 Not Chaska ! Oh, no, no— 'tis Iena ! 
 I see her now, who could not see my love- 
 Love clear and incorruptible as glass, 
 Love that had dared a monster, wilds and floods- 
 Dare fire, and draw the bow that shielded me. 
 hpeak to me, Iena I No voice— she's dead ! 
 
 Officer. This is the strangest chapter of my life- 
 Soldiers, stand off, and rest upon your arms 
 
 Thf 1 u ,M'"",r" ' l*"*'^ ''P' "« sun-warm still- 
 
 They look hke life, yet have no semblant voice. 
 
 Millions of creatures throng, and multitudes 
 
 Of heartless beings flaunt upon the earth • 
 
 There s room enough for them ; but thou, dull Fate- 
 
 I hou cold and partial tender of life's field, 
 
 That pluck'st the flower, and leav'st the weed to thrive- 
 
 Thou hadst not room for her ! Oh, I must seek 
 
 A way out of the rack— I need not live 
 
 Is tllVf ^ip"*"^ ""''' ^™'" '*'' '*'"'''" ^"^^ ''°""' =- 
 . LEfROY. Yes, yes, but she is dead- 
 
 And love is left upon the earth to starve. 
 My object's gone, and I am but a shell, 
 A husk, an empty case, or anything 
 That may be kicked about the world. 
 
 [Exit Lefkoy, carrying Iena. 
 
SCENE VI. 
 
 Tecumseh 
 
 '• i»5 
 
 Officer. I jgg j 
 
 I have a tear or two behind these eyes, 
 And they are coming. If he need a friend 
 I know of one. 
 
 aND Soldier. Now, dang me, who'd 'a thought 
 That was a girl ! 
 
 Officer, (laming aside.) What strange and selfless 
 paths 
 Do skirt the world's hard highway ! I have !>een 
 What gives me sight. The tide of battle rolls 
 Back, and our people win, as win they must : 
 But, now, methinks, I'll strive with different heart. 
 Come, soldiers, let's away and join the fight. 
 
 [Exeunt through a by-entrana. 
 
 Re-enter Tecumseh's warriors driven back, and then re- 
 enter Tecumseh, Staveta, and other Chiefs. 
 
 Tecumseh. Has death died out, that no one now can 
 die? 
 Or are you driven back by fear of it ? 
 Oh, slaves or men, determine which you are I 
 
 Re-enter the American troops, in pursuit. 
 
 Stayeta. Tecumseh calls ! On, wamors, strike them 
 down ! 
 
 (Tecumseh and his warriors, by a fierce onslaught, again 
 drive their opponents back. The fight cvttinues without 
 — then re-enter Tecumseh mortally wounjfd.) 
 
 Tecumseh. Great Spirit, hadst thou spared me but one 
 hour — 
 Yet thy behest rules all. 
 
 Re-enter Delaware Chief, also wounded. 
 
 Delaware Chief. What ! wounded too ? 
 
 Tecumseh. Yes, I am shot. Recall some warriors 
 To bear my body hence. Give no alarm. 
 
136 
 
 I^St I 
 
 Tecumseh 
 
 )or braves lose courage ; but make haste— 
 1 have not long to live. Yet hear my words I 
 . Bury me m the deep and densest forest, 
 And let no white man know where I am laid. 
 Promise this ere you go. 
 
 Delaware Chief. I promise it. 
 
 Alas, alas, our bravest and our best ! 
 -r ™. [.Exii Delaware Chief. 
 
 Tecumseh. The hour is come! these weary hands and 
 
 Draw to the grave. Oh, I have loved my life, 
 Not for my own but for my people's cause. 
 Who now will knit them ? who will lead them on ' 
 Lost ! lost ! lost ! The pale destroyer triumphs '' 
 X see my people flee— I hear their «hrieks— 
 
 And none to shield or save ! My axe ! my axe 
 
 Ha— it is here ! No, no— the power is past. 
 O Mighty Spirit, shelter— save— my people ! 
 
 [Dits. 
 
 SCENE SEVENTH.-ANOTHER part of the Field. 
 
 Enter General Harrison arij othtr American Officers 
 and Colonel Baby, o prisoner. 
 
 Harrison. You were too brave a man. Baby, to swell 
 The craven Proctor's flight of followers. 
 
 Baby. Speak not of him ! I mourn the death of one— 
 
 A soldier — and a savage if you will 
 
 Able and honourable, valiant, pure. 
 As ever graced the annals of the earth. 
 
 Harrison. You mean Tecumseh ; search is made for 
 him. 
 I hope to give him fitting burial. 
 
 Baby. Oh, sir, he loved his people ! They are men 
 Much hated by the small and greedy mind— 
 The mind that is not gentle, and that jeers 
 And laughs at all forlorn and broken fortune. 
 
SCENE VII. 
 
 Tecumseh 
 
 "7 
 
 And some there be who coldly pass them by 
 
 As creatures ruled by appetite, not law ; 
 
 Yet, though to such they seem but human beasts, 
 
 Ihey are to those who know, or study them, 
 
 A world of wonders ! I entreat you, sir, 
 
 To make right use of your authority. 
 
 And shield them if you can. 
 
 Harrison. I shall, I shall. 
 
 Right feeling tends this way, though 'tis a course 
 Not to be smoothly steered. 
 
 Enter a parly of solditrs. 
 
 1ST Soldier. Tecumseh's body 
 
 Cannot be found ; 'twas borne away and buried 
 By faithful friends who would not name the place, 
 If they were tortured. 
 
 1ST Officer. He is well content 
 
 Without our honours. This man's race hath lost 
 A lofty spirit. 
 
 2ND Officer. All will mourn for him ! 
 No need had he of schools or learned books— 
 His soul his mentor, his keen lion-looks 
 Pierced to the heart of things. Nor needed he 
 Counsels of strength and goodness. To be free 
 Required no teacher, no historic page. 
 No large examples sought from age to age. 
 For such things were himself, and, as his breath, 
 Instinctive, pleaders 'gainst the fears of death. 
 
 Harrison. Sleep well, Tecumseh, in thy unknown grave, 
 Ihou mighty savage, resolute and brave ! 
 Thou, master and strong spirit of the woods, 
 Unsheltered traveller in sad solitudes, 
 Yearner o'er Wyandot and Cherokee, 
 Couldst tell us now what hath been and shall be ! 
 
 \Exeunt. 
 The End. 
 
CANADIAN POEMS 
 

( »3> ) 
 
 THE LEGEND OF CHILEELI. 
 
 (A TranaposiUon from "Schoolcraft.") 
 
 \XrHm 1 what glad tidings I what deUcious din ! 
 
 The mid-May sky is dapple-gray, earth sere, 
 And the woods leafless, but the birds are here ! 
 
 ?.? l*"?, ' ''"'''^ ^°' summef- When it came. 
 
 With all Its rosefcd reveries, and flame 
 
 Of honeyed sunflowers, and the scented thorn, 
 
 I wandered out into the woods at rnorn 
 
 A fair young mom, in which a shower had been, 
 
 bo all the world was in its deepest green. 
 
 And every spot whereon the cool rain fell 
 
 f'fif"'.?^/'^"''"'' °^°""- ''^<" •' »eenied a spell 
 Inthtalled the woods, for not a leaflet stirred. 
 And, save the murmurs of a piney herd. 
 Which sighed aloft, although the nether air 
 Was still as death,— 'twas silence everywhere. 
 
 Twas silence save when sudden voices made 
 
 A momentary descant in the shade. 
 
 The small birds of the forest were unseen, 
 
 Yet ofttimes from their lofty coverts green 
 
 Would fall a little trickling melody, 
 
 Which leapt at intervals from spray to spray 
 
 Like nils from rock to rock. And through the bush 
 
 There stole the mournful "Faraway ! " of the thrush— 
 
 I he song of songs ! Who hearkens unto it 
 
 boon finds a swarm of old-love memories flit 
 
 In dreamy guise about his painfed heart, 
 
 And, if he ponder long, then tears will start. 
 
'3» The Legend of ChUeeU 
 
 Remembering the pageant of the past, 
 And thinkmg how the days which fly so fast 
 Seem thin and naked, and of little ginh 
 Compared with old, old vanished days and mirth. 
 
 And, at I strolled, there came into my mind, 
 Out of the lost lore of the savage kind 
 Out of the wreck of years, a tale oft told 
 By Indian maidens to their swains .of old 
 For, hCTe, a lounger in this woodUnd world, 
 
 ii\^l^ '5'2"«'' "'"• ™"S' ^""^ <*«»? bloom unfurled. 
 Might feed his spirit, roaming on the brink 
 Uf Fairyland, with fantasies, or drink 
 At memory's fount. So fictions read in youth. 
 And parables which hide some deathless truth. 
 And tales and histories of vanished times, 
 riaditions dim, and half-forgotten rhymes 
 Mole in and out of mind as steals some brook 
 mm shade to sunshine, and from nook to nook 
 And thus It chanced to stray into my thoutht. 
 This quaint old legend of the forest, fraught 
 With love and loss— this story of a man, 
 Inspired, but built on Nature's savage plan. 
 
 A chief hight Wawanosh, of high renown. 
 But cruel, proud and stern— a man whose frown 
 bmote all with fear; whose very smile was cold 
 As winter^s sun when ramping clouds unfold. 
 And let him look a moment through, then close- 
 Had one fair child, the paragon, the rose 
 Of all his tribe ; a tender creature, born 
 To sweeten to the worid that bitter thorn 
 Upon a parent stem, his savage heart. 
 JJf =°"'d not look on her but he would smart 
 With inner consciousness (quite out of ken 
 Wheneer he looked on common maids or men) 
 Of something there— a soul which he misprized, 
 ho pure and good it was, yet recognized 
 
The Legend of Chileeli 
 
 As infinitely finer than his own. 
 
 So would he turn from her with inward groan, 
 
 And scowl upon his people till they quailed, 
 
 In ignorance that his dark spirit failed 
 
 At sight of her. Yet they withstood him not. 
 
 And bore it meekly, since he bad begot 
 
 This loving creature who was all men's praise. 
 
 For as a wretch sometimes, by wondrous ways, 
 
 Wins a true woman's love, and friends demur. 
 
 At first, then chance him for the sake of her, 
 
 So could no sire have such a child as she, 
 
 A maid so infinitely kind, and be 
 
 Outlawed from human liking. Hence they shook 
 
 Before him, yet endured, nay, even took 
 
 A pleasure in his frowns at thought of her ; 
 
 But, as for him, there was no blasted fir 
 
 More bleached in feeling, dry at heart, and dead. 
 
 So when the youth, Chileeli, sought to wed, 
 And asked him for his daughter, he uprose. 
 And stared, as if the meanest of his foes 
 Affronted him. " What ! wed her to a boy— 
 An idler ignorant of war's employ ! 
 A coward who has never fleshed a spear, 
 Not even in the timid jumping deer ! 
 Begone ! lest with a puff of manly breath 
 I blow thee from my sight. Begone ! 'tis death 
 To ask again. Away ! my wrath is hot." 
 So this young swain, who was a poet, not 
 A vengeful man by nature, in despair 
 Fled to the wilds to nurse his passion there. 
 
 A mighty promontory, gray and bold, 
 O'erhung a lonely lake, which lay unrolled 
 A hill-girt league beneath the summer sun. 
 Its dreaming waters few e'er looked upon 
 Save young Chileeli ; for dark spirits met. 
 And whispered round its shores, and so beset 
 
 '33 
 
«J4 
 
 The Ugend of CbUeell 
 
 It! ul<»unt placei that hU people fe«r«L 
 
 And shunned it. Hence upon thU heiRht be reared 
 
 A bower of l.vinK leaver whereto he itole 
 
 i o iigb alone, and marvel in hii soul 
 
 Why he so differed from his fellowmen. 
 
 For all were ruthless warriors, and, when 
 
 rhe hatchet was unearthed, all took delight 
 
 A„H !l. " ?""• "*• ""••»"'• ""^ «»>« fight 
 And aU were keen as eagles in the chase : 
 Could sight the stealthy fox afar, and trace 
 1 he cunning carcajou unto his lair ; 
 Could track the moose, and trap the horrid bear. 
 And kill sweet birds without a moment's painT 
 > simply wound, nor think of them againT 
 And all were tradera keen, who knew the price 
 And value of the white man's merchandise ; 
 
 aStI? V ^T "W'? "f'y 8»me, they thoJght, 
 All fond of gawds, all fond of spoil and bloodT 
 rhey flew from chase to chase, from feud to feud • 
 A restless trioe, redeemed by one deep trait. 
 Their love of her— his dream by night and day. 
 
 So he bewailed his fate, for that his life 
 larred, and was out of keeping with the rife. 
 
 A^rt*jri'^°''j°""'^ ''''"■ ^''y h'd he been bom, 
 And forced by Nature to endure the scorn 
 UJ Wawanosh and every common brave ? 
 To feel there was no heart this side the grave 
 Which beat for him ? No heart - Ah, there was one 
 The sweetest and the fondest 'neath the sun < ' 
 
 une soul who loved, whoever else might jibe 
 And jeer at this lone poet of his tribe. 
 
 Companionable, and the woods less cold 
 Again those wards of Nature, summer-bright. 
 Seemed sentient creatures lapt in self delight 
 And o er the lake some fairy hand had dtiwn 
 
 
T .. Legend of CUIeeU 135 
 
 • 
 
 An amethyitine glory, like the dawn 
 
 or tome far morn in heaven ; a haze which blant 
 
 The r .n waten with the firmament 
 
 In charmed iuSusion, rifted by the day 
 
 With dreamy light*, which faded far away 
 
 In infinite penpective. Long he gazed 
 
 On thi> entrancing scene, his soul upraised, 
 
 Each intuition keener than the last. 
 
 Till consciousness into his being passed 
 
 Of Nature, and of Nature's final cause : 
 
 How the Great Spirit, working through his laws, 
 
 Sheda beauty from him as the endless need 
 
 or his supernal essence ; hence the breed 
 
 or artist minds, wherein reflected lie 
 
 The emanations of his deity. 
 
 But what of these ? and wherein served they now 
 The needs of present love ? His chieftain's brow 
 Frowned on his suit because he hated war. 
 And haunted spirit-takes and difis afar, 
 And shunned the common looks of common men. 
 These understood him not, laughed long, and then 
 Grew cold as death. There was no comfort nigh ; 
 Earth seemed to gloom again, its grace to fly. 
 And his large heart grow empty as the air. 
 There seemed no edge, no end, to his despair ; 
 No promise, save in dreams by love distilled, 
 And longings which might never be rulfilled. 
 
 There seemed, in truth, one only way to win ; 
 Bat to put out the inner light, to sin 
 Against his better self, to warp, and bend 
 His nature, even (or so great an end. 
 Cut conscience to the core. He pondered long. 
 But reason kicks the beam where love is strong ; 
 Nay, turns love's advocate, and smooths away 
 Its own misgivings and perplexity. 
 
•36 The Legend of Chileeli 
 
 So, step by step, our lover reached resolve • 
 He, too, would seek the nearest way, and solve 
 
 W^Z^^^w "'"' l*"" "•' '''' P^'hs untried 
 Wm savage Wawanosh unto his side, 
 Or bear his fate alone. 
 
 . ., , . There is a goal, 
 
 in the horizon of each living soul, 
 
 By noble toil attained, or cunning plan : 
 
 The starting place is naught-all's in the man. 
 
 But woe betide the love, the fame, or pelf, 
 
 Orasped by a soul unfaithful to itself 
 
 WK ,".,r''^" T"."' " ^"='' ^"<=^ fame a dream, 
 Such wealth unstable as a desert stream 
 So runs the rede Time's ancient tomes unfold : 
 ho runs the sequel of this legend old. 
 
 Chileeli's nature seemed to change outright 
 nL'^^^ shunned the chase, and scorned the fight, 
 Now craved permissiou to be made a biave. ^ ' 
 This gained, with ceremony due, be gave 
 Three days to fasting ; neither ate nor slept, 
 Nor moved one muscle of his frame, but kept 
 The self-same posture all that time alone, 
 men came the torture, borne without a groan. 
 In presence of his tribe; the sacred danre. 
 The profuse feast, the dreaming-lodge, the trance. 
 And the awaking to new Ufe, renamed, 
 Armed like his fellows, and already famed. 
 
 Armed, and notorious 1 For in very truth 
 A thousand tongues were busy with the youth, 
 A thousand heads shook gravely. Was not this 
 The Sohtety who thought war amiss. 
 And all the customs of his people wrong ? 
 n?i;n!V''*'' ^^'^ "l" ""P'ing's double-tongue 
 
 rS '.°lu°" 'u° ""f* ' ^a' «"rio' keen- 
 Could trust the changer ? Yet, with haughty mien, 
 
The Legend of ChUeeli 
 
 '37 
 
 This whilom butt of every urchin's jibe 
 Now dared the foremost hunters of his tribe 
 To fetch their spoils upon a certain day 
 And match them with his own. These lounged away, 
 Smiling askance, and dreaming not of shame, 
 Till the appointed mom. Their trophies came — 
 But his ! alack, what slaughter I Ears and paws 
 And tails of panther, wolf, and fox, the claws 
 Of monstrous bears, mouffles of moose, and wings 
 Of owls and eagles — in his wanderings 
 Nothing escaped him. From the innocent wren 
 To the poor moldwarp in its sinuous den, 
 All fared alike ; the bittern from the brake. 
 Earth's primal brood, toad, lizard, turtle, snake- 
 All things that fly, or walk, or crawl, or creep 
 Were there, in whole or part, in this vast heap. 
 So that the hunters stared in blank surprise. 
 And all the people rent the air with cries — 
 " This is the Slayer ! " and made loud acclaim. 
 
 This strange exploit so swelled Chileeli's fame 
 That, when he sought to raise a band for war. 
 The choicest spirits rallied from afar ; 
 Experienced braves, and youngsters of his clan, 
 With, here and there, some wizened, wild old man 
 Who smelt the fray, and would not be denied. 
 Nay, even Wawanosh unbent his pride. 
 Coughed, eyed the sun, and sneezed, and then 
 Cried, " Good ! Yet fools oft end where better men 
 Begin. Still you have chosen wisely. Go ! 
 The way to love's delight lies through the foe." 
 
 Enough ! Chileeli's soul was all on fire 
 
 With eagerness and unfulfilled desire ! 
 
 He needed not his chief's ungracious praise. 
 
 Or any pressure from without, to raise 
 
 His spirit to its height. At his behest 
 
 The braves were painted, and each scalp-lock drest 
 
'38 The Ugrend of ChfleeU 
 
 AH in a trice. The sacred war-song r«se, 
 
 *aUinto file, and so the march began. 
 
 Tli'e «T.^ "" dangerous, the path unknown, 
 The enemy a race renowned, and blown 
 With countless triumphs. If he routed them 
 H , S'* T attained-what chief could stem 
 His claim, or keep him longer from his love ? 
 so, on he hasted in pursuit thereof, 
 
 S^'J'i2?'-^'"?"8^'.y*' '""•'"'; for an awe 
 seemed to inspire their spirits when they saw 
 
 The ummagmable light that burned 
 F«^.'^^°"'7**- Their course now turned 
 f^^^ f°"^ * clamouring stream, which played 
 
 Immn^I^" ''^""°5P'*'«= hills, and made ^ ^ 
 Immortal music. Flowers of precious dye, 
 
 Bn. ,11 ■ °f«°"fL appealed as he passed by, 
 Bu all in vam. He saw but felt not ; hea J, 
 But no responsive sense of beauty stirred 
 Within his mind distraught. On, day by day. 
 He and his painted warriors made way 
 By stream and hill, by slimy swamp and swale. 
 Through forests deep and many a sunless valS 
 Silent as shadows, stealthily th^ passed. 
 And reached, u: aen, their enemyTt laJt. 
 
 The pathway ended where a tongue of land 
 
 The hamlet lay half hid by fruited trees. 
 And com and vines and summer's greeneries 
 
 Red'w?th 'tKd •'■^ " flower-fringe! strSt run, 
 Kec with the radiance of the setting sun, 
 
 Each cabm m the dying lustre stood 
 
 iransfigured by romance and solitude. 
 
 And life was there, the savage life of old, 
 
 Of fine-hmbed women and of warriors bold. 
 
The Legend of Chileeli 139 
 
 Unarmed ihey gambled by their evening fires, 
 Or listened to the legends of their sires. 
 And through the vale the tender echoes spread 
 or soft sweet Indian laughter— maidenhead 
 And youth in dalliance sweet — the joyous cry 
 Of boys at play— the mother's lullaby. 
 And young Chileeli in his ambush knelt. 
 And looked on this, and, for an instant, felt 
 A spirit rise — his former self — which gave 
 One parting pang, then vanished in the wave 
 Of his intense resolve. 
 
 The sun went down, 
 Night's shadows fell upon the little town ; 
 
 And when each cabin lay in slumber deep 
 
 As still as death — the very dogs asleep — 
 
 Then rose Chileeli from his hiding-place 
 
 With all his warriors, and stole apace. 
 
 Like phantoms in the darkness, to their ground. 
 
 This reached, they listened, but no cabined sound 
 
 Of waking life was there ; naught met the ear 
 
 Save Sleep's deep breathing, like the moaning drear 
 
 Of desert wind. Then rose the awful cry, 
 
 The war-whoop wild resounding to the dcy ! 
 
 Each cabin door upon its hinges spun. 
 
 And in a trice the savage fight begun ! 
 
 Chileeli triumphed. Morn had come again 
 Ere the strife ceased and every foe was slain. 
 
 That summer sun showed heaven the direst sight 
 
 Men, women, children, all had perished quite ! 
 Nothing survived ; the very vines were killed. 
 The corn uprooted, and the fruit trees pilled. 
 So, when the ruin was complete, and fate 
 Had filled its measure to the brim ; when hate 
 Had nothing left to wreak itself upon. 
 When the hot fever of revenge was gone, 
 And the fell lust for blood no longer burned, 
 Chileeli and his warriors homeward turned. 
 
140 
 
 The Legend of Chileeli 
 
 
 That bourne regained, our lover quickly spread 
 His monstrous spoils before his nation'^ ^^ 
 
 Not «alp, ^one. but breasts of m°^^T', 
 And infants' arms wound in their mothers' hir 
 And warriors' string-fingers, ears and toe" ' 
 IVn^-l ^T"? •"'? '*''' "•'» Siant noseL 
 ffiXifc r" '" ^""^'^ '■ ^^ "ho thrust 
 ^nm^K f ''4? °°" ■ ^^ *°° •"» bit the dust ! 
 Enough ! This youth has won his choice of wive^- 
 Go, bring my daughter here I Whoso contrirM 
 A rarer wedding feast than ours to-day 
 Must range afar ! " ^ 
 
 TK. , Chileeli dared not stav 
 
 rmiM ™!t '='"«f'»'?' ''""'^ "ho. with a breath. 
 Could make or mar his fate. But, now a thimr 
 A stnu,ge delay which set all wonCngl! """«- 
 Th!. h^'K% The messenger returned, and said 
 Thei «?h. '°J'8''-!; ""l' ™"'^ "o' ""d. 'he maid. 
 But each came back in like bewilderment. 
 And soon the triDe was all astir, the ground 
 Ransacked for leagues, and yet she ^ not found • 
 Nor by her tnbe, in forest or on plahT ' 
 
 Was that chiefs daughter ever seen again. 
 
 The people mourned for her, by day and nieht 
 But young Chileeli was distracted quite * ' 
 
 H»,';n»rH°^t''S""'"""^ ^'' fellowmen, and now 
 Runted the dreamy promontory's briw 
 Where stood his bower, and brobded there alone 
 But a^l was changed ; the mystircSrmTad flown 
 The beauty perished. He hid wrenched hfs heTrt! 
 
141 
 
 The Legend oi ChileeU 
 
 And wrested to vain ends its better part ; 
 
 Earth's grace liad vanished, for his soul was blind. 
 
 One aim remained, one bootless aim, to find — 
 
 What seemed irrevocably lost — his love ! 
 
 But how, or where ? What spirit from above, 
 
 Or from earth's shadows under, good or ill. 
 
 Could waft her to his side, or work his will ? 
 
 Haggard and spent with searching, here and there 
 
 His eye turned restlessly — the gloomy stare 
 
 Of one half-mad, who looks from this to that 
 
 By turns, as if mere longing had begat 
 
 The thing desired. Then all at last grew blank— 
 
 A dull, dead space wherein his spirit sanx, 
 
 As sinks some drowned thing in the desolate wave. 
 
 For hours he sat in stupor thus, nor gave 
 
 One sign of life, till suddenly there came 
 
 Upon the air a voice which called his name 
 
 Midst wingings soft. Then, slowly opening wide 
 
 His listless eyes, he presently espied, 
 
 Above the neighbouring wood, a wondrous bird. 
 
 Which thrilled the air with voice till now unheard. 
 
 As if some flower had risen from its throng, 
 
 On shining wings, and burst into a song i 
 
 And ever was its tender voice the same - 
 
 Chileeli ! still Chileeli ! still his name ! 
 
 So that his heart leapt up, and hopes and fears 
 
 Chased through his fevered soul, and burning tears 
 
 Oozed fircm his aching eyes. What spell was this 
 
 That lay on him f Her fond embrace, her kiss — 
 
 He felt such raptures now ! What spell was it 
 
 Which caused that winged form to descend, and sit. 
 
 And gaze upon him from the neighbouring thorn ? 
 
 Ah, me ! What magic now was in the morn ? 
 
 For, as he looked, the bird began to grow, 
 
 Its shape to change, its plumage, white as snow, 
 
 Or myriad-tinted, turned to floating hair. 
 
 And soon there stood, transformed before him there. 
 
'l i 
 It- '■ 
 
 '*' The Legend of ChUeeli' 
 
 Bent on bim once again her look, of ifght 
 
 The baser service of the world, nor tasks 
 Nor tempts the heart to win by ways unbW 
 
 Which ruled thy hand ; for what s pure must be 
 O^er luJt^anH ^'^'"^''-,*'' «P'"''» -na^e^ 
 
 Of thy unhaUowed love. Yet do I f^r 
 My woman-spirit yearn, and fain would steal- 
 For love ,s strong_i„to thy life forlorn 
 Into thy smful being, tempesttorn ; ' 
 Away with thee unto thy destined shore. 
 Thy s.Ience and thy darkness evermore I 
 
 " Alack, what have I said ? Adieu ! 
 
 Adieu ! " 
 
The Legend of Chileeli 
 
 Her form became a bird again, and flew 
 Far off unto the bourne of endless life. 
 And he? Alas, the unavailing strife — 
 Th« search for that which never could be found ' 
 Crushed by despair, he swooned upon the ground. 
 And lay for long as dead ; then rose again. 
 To feel love's hunger and undying pain 
 Still gnawing at his heart. He could not sleep : 
 ^ dry his hfe had grown he could not weep. 
 He sought his tribe, and found it still intent 
 On war and spoil. Old Wawanosh unbent 
 His sullen brow, and caught him by the hand, 
 Then, grinning fiercely, offered him command. 
 With a fresh choice of wives I Their very sport 
 Seemed drearier than death ; and, all amort, 
 ^d spirit-sunk, like many a thing of yore, 
 He fled away, and ne'er was heard of more. 
 
 1885. 
 
 M3 
 
( 144) 
 
 U: t 
 
 n 
 
 lif « 
 
 
 A BALLAD FOR BRAVE WOMEN. 
 
 A ^i5!P^y worth telling our annals afford, 
 
 H-, .J;" • ""'"'erf"' Jouniey of Laura Secord > 
 
 Th^'S^' Z'^^^ '•^"'~ ''"'"'kd hon>e with tL new. 
 That Boerstler was nigh I " Not a minute to lose 
 
 ri« r"'"'' ."""*^ ^""' "fo'otoppageorpruse- 
 I must hurry and warn our brave troopHS DerawV^ 
 
 "S" '/,°.l' • Ji^ ""husband, •■ t^o famish .L, ire > » 
 
 " Md Tow .,?!"'' ""*'* ^'"»' •>" '^°" on fire 
 
 " Who^fL "7°" P"' "" K™ff '^tn-." said he. 
 Who is posted so near us ? " ^ 
 
 Th. f~. • I . " J"" wait till you see I 
 
 The foe .s approaching, and means to surprise 
 
 N"dorwit!f /°" '"' "■'• «''■ hu^bandXre flies 
 
 1 11 take 1 , I'll bear it Good-bye I " with a kiss 
 
 ISdVhS'If H"' f '^ '""=■'«' he' skirts well about, 
 And a bucket she slung on each arm, and went out 
 
 •Tw«^^e bright blush of dawn, when the stars melt from 
 Kssolved' by its breath like a dream of the night • 
 
 Ke rudenf T' °Pt"'"« °" ■"»" and hi?^n. 
 ire the rude day strengthens and shuts it again 
 But Laura had eyes for her duty alone- ^ 
 
 BvT."n ^^,"°' "V* «'°" ^""^ 'he gloom that were thrown 
 By the nurelmgs of morn, by the cloud-lands at rest 
 By the spells of the East, and the weird, of the W«t 
 Behmd was the foe, full of craft and of guile 
 Before her a long day of travel and toil ' 
 
A BiOUd for Brave Women 
 
 "No time this for gizing," laid Laura, as near 
 To the sentry she drew — 
 
 „, . ^ "Haiti You cannot pass here I" 
 
 " I cannot pass here I Why, sirrah, you drowse I 
 
 Are you blind ? Don't you see I am off to my cows ? •' 
 
 Wdl, well, you can go I " So she wended her way 
 To the pasture's lone side, where the farthest cow lay. 
 Got her up, caught a teat, and, with pail at her knees. 
 Made her budge, inch by inch, till she drew by degrees 
 To the edge of the forest : " I've hoaxed, on my word. 
 Both you and the sentry," said Uura Secord. 
 
 With a lingering look at her home, then away 
 She sped through the wild-wood— a wilderness gray- 
 Nature's privacy, haunt of a virgin sublime. 
 And the mother who bore her, as ancient as Time; 
 Where the linden had space for its fans and its flowers. 
 The balsam its tents, and the cedar its bowers ; 
 Where the lord of the forest, the oak, had ite realm, 
 The ash its domain, and its kingdom the elm ; 
 Where the pine bowed its antlers in tempests, and gave 
 To the ocean of leaves the wild dash of the wave ; 
 And the mystical hemlock— the forest's high-priest— 
 Hung its weird, raking top-gallant branch to the east. 
 
 And denser and deeper the solitude grew; 
 
 The underwood thickened and drenched her with dew. 
 
 She tript over moss-covered logs, fell, arose, 
 
 Sped and stumbled again by the hour, till her clothes 
 
 Were rent by the branches and thorns, and her feet 
 
 Grew tender and way-worn and blistered with heat. 
 
 And on, ever on, through the forest she passed. 
 
 Her soul in her task, but each pulse beating fast ; 
 
 For shadowy forms seemed to flit through the glades, 
 
 And beckon her into their liiuitless shades; 
 
 And mystical sounds— in the forest alone. 
 
 Ah, who has not heard them ? — the voices ! the moan 
 
 MS 
 
146 
 
 A Ballad for Brave Women 
 
 m 
 A 
 
 MM 
 
 Or the ligh of mute nature which links on the ear, 
 And fills us with sadness, or thrills us with fear ? 
 And who, lone and lost in the wilderness deep. 
 Has not felt the strange fancies, the tremoun which creep 
 And assemble within, till the heart 'gins to fail, 
 The courage to flinch, and the cheek to grow pale. 
 Midst the shadows which mantle the Spirit that broods 
 In the sombre, the deep-haunted, heart of the woods? 
 
 She stopt— it was noonday. The wilds she espied 
 
 Seemed solitudes measureless. " Help me I " she cried ; 
 
 Her piteous lips parched with thirst, and her eyes 
 
 Strained with gazing. The sun in his infinite skies 
 
 Looked down on no creature more hapless than she. 
 
 For woman is woman where'er she may be. 
 
 For a moment she faltered, then came to her side 
 
 The heroine's spirit— the Angel of Pride. 
 
 One'moment she faltered. Beware ! What is this ? 
 
 The coil of the serpent ! the rattlesnake's hiss I 
 
 One moment, then onward. What sounds far and near? 
 
 The howl of the wolf! yet she turned not in fear, 
 
 Nor bent from her course, till her eye caught a gleam. 
 
 From the woods, of a meadow through which flowed a 
 
 stream. 
 Pure and sweet with the savour of leaf and of flower. 
 By the night-dew distilled and the soft forest shower'; 
 Pure and cold as its spring in the rock crystalline, 
 Whence it gurgled and gushed 'twixt the roots of the pine. 
 
 And blest above bliss is the pleasure of thirst, 
 
 Where there's water to quench it ; for pleasure is nursed 
 
 In the cradle of pain, and twin marvels are they 
 
 Whose interdependence is born with our clay. 
 
 Yes, blessed is water, and blessed is thirst, 
 
 Where there's water to quench it ; but this is the worst 
 
 Of this life, that we reck not the blessings God se' -Is, 
 
 Till denied them. But Laura, who felt she had f ads 
 
 In Heaven, as well as on earth, knew to thank 
 
 The Giver of all things, and gratefully drank. 
 
A Ballad for Brnve Women 147 
 
 Once more on the pathwajr, through iwunp and tbroush 
 mirei " 
 
 ^^J^"^ '?!* J""'*"- "'""'8'' '>""°''le and brier, 
 She toiled to the highway, then oTer the hill, 
 And down the deep valley, and past the new mill, 
 And through the next woods, till, at lunw', she came 
 To the first Bntish picket, and murmure' ler name : 
 TTience, guarded by Indians, footsore a pale. 
 She was led to FitiGJbbon, and tolc' um her tale. 
 
 For a moment her reason forsook her ; she raved. 
 
 She Uughed, and she cried— "They are saved I they are 
 
 saved! 
 Then her senses returned, and, with thanks loud and deep 
 Sounding sweetly around her, she sank into sleep. 
 And Boerstler came up ; but his movements were known. 
 His force was surrounded, bis scheme was o'erthrown. 
 By a woman's devotion— on stone be't engraved !— 
 The foeman was beaten, and Burlington saved. 
 
 Ah ! faithful to death were our women of yore. 
 Have they fled with the past, to be heard of no more ? 
 No, no ! Though this laurelled one sleeps in the grave. 
 We have maidens as true, we have matrons as brave ; 
 And should Canada ever be forced to the test- 
 To spend for our country the blood of her best- 
 When her sons lift the linstock and brandish the sword. 
 Her daughters will think of brave Laura Secord. 
 
( 148) 
 
 Vl\ 
 
 THE LAST BISON. 
 
 (Wrilten in 1890.) 
 
 piGHT yean have fled tince, in the wilderness, 
 *-^ I drew the rein to rest my comiade there— 
 My supple, clean-limbed pony of the plains. 
 He was a runner of pure Indian blood, 
 Yet in his eye still gleamed the desert's fire, 
 And form and action both bespoke the Barb. 
 A wondrous creature is the Indian's horse ; 
 Degenerate now, but from the "Centaurs" drawn— 
 The apparitions which dissolved with fear 
 Montexuma's plumed Children of the Sun, 
 And throned rough Cortei in his realm of gold ! 
 
 A gentle vale, with rippling aspens clad. 
 
 Yet open to the breeze, invited rest 
 
 So there I lay, and watched the sun's fierce beams 
 
 Reverberate in wreathed ethereal flame; 
 
 Or gawd upon the leaves which buzzed o'erhead. 
 
 Like tiny wings in simubted flight 
 
 Within the vale a lakelet, lashed with flowers. 
 
 Lay like a liquid eye among the hills. 
 
 Revealing in its depths the fulgent light 
 
 Of snowy cloud-land and cerulean skies. 
 
 And rising, falling, fading far around, 
 
 The homeless and unfurrowed prairies spread 
 
 In solitude and idleness eteme. 
 
 And all was silence save the rustling leaf. 
 The gadding insect, or the grebe's lone cry, 
 Or where Saskatchewan, with turbid moan. 
 Deep-sunken in the plain, his torrent poured. 
 
The Last Bison 
 
 >49 
 
 Heie Lonelinen posieued her realm supreme, 
 Her pniries all about her, undeflowered, 
 Puliing beneath the lummer lun, and iweet 
 With virgin air and waters undefiled. 
 Inviolate still ! Bright solitudes, with power 
 To charm the spirit — bruised where ways are foul— 
 Into forgetfulness of chuckling wrong, 
 And all the weary clangour of the world. 
 
 Yet, Sorrow, too, had here its kindred place. 
 As o'er my spirit swept the sense of change. 
 Here sympathy could sigh o'er man's decay ; 
 For here, but yesterday, the warrior dwelt 
 Whose faded nation had for ages held. 
 In fealty to Nature, these domains. 
 Around me were the relics of his race — 
 The grassy circlets where his village stood, 
 Well-ruled by custom's immemorial law. 
 Along these slopes his happy offspring roved 
 In days gone by, and dusky mothers plied 
 Their summer tasks, or loitered in the shade. 
 Here the magician howled his demons up^ 
 And here the lod^e of council had its seat. 
 Once resonant, with oratory wild. 
 All vanished I perished in the swelling sea 
 And stayless tide of an encroaching power 
 Whose civil fiat, man.<levouring still. 
 Will leave, at last, no wilding on the esu,i, . 
 To wonder at or love ! 
 
 With them had fled 
 The bison-breed which overflowed the plains. 
 And, undiminished, fed uncounted tribes. 
 Its vestiges were here — its wallows, paths. 
 And skulls and shining ribs and vertebrae ; 
 Gray bones of monaichs from the herds, perchance. 
 Descended, by De Vaca first beheld. 
 Or Coronado, in mad quest af gold. 
 Here hosts had had their home ; here had they roamed, 
 
II ' 
 
 •so The Last Bison 
 
 Kndkss and infinite— vast herds wJiich seemed 
 Exhaustlewi as the sea. All vanished now ! 
 Of that wild tumult not a hoof remained 
 To scour the countless paths where myriads trod. 
 
 iMOf had I lain 'twixt dreams and waking, thus, 
 
 Musing on change and mutability, 
 
 And endless evanescence, when a burst 
 
 Of sudden roaring filled the vale with sound. 
 
 Pe^lexed and startled, to my feet I sprang, 
 
 And in amazement from my covert gazed 
 
 For, presently, into the valley can>e 
 
 A mighty bison, which, with stately tread 
 
 And gleaming eyes, descended to the shore I 
 
 Spell-bound I stood. Was this a living form. 
 
 Or but an image by the fancy drawn ? 
 
 A !i".°^'l''J"*?l'"=^ ' ""^ f""" » "O"""! blood flowed. 
 And trickled with the frothing from his lips. 
 Uneasily he gazed, yet saw me not. 
 Haply concealed; then, with a roar so loud 
 1 hat all the echofcs rent their valley-horns, 
 ^e staod and listened; but no voice replied I 
 Deeply he drank, then lashed his quivering flanks. 
 And roared again, and hearkened, but no sound. 
 No tongue congenial answered to his call- 
 He was the hist survivor of his clan I 
 
 Huge was his frame I the famed Burdash, so grown 
 
 10 that tnormous bulk whose presence filled 
 
 The very vale with awe. His shining horns 
 
 Gleamed black amidst his fell of floating hair— 
 
 His neck and shoulders, of the lion's build. 
 
 Were framed to toss the worid ! Now stood he there 
 
 And stared, with head uplifted, at the skies, 
 
 Wow-yieldmg to his deep and mortal wound. 
 
 He seemed to pour his mighty spirit out 
 
 As thus he gazed, till my own spirit burned. 
 
 And teeming fancy, charmed and overwrought 
 
The Last Bison 
 
 By all the wildering glamour of the scene. 
 
 Gave to that glorious attitude a voice, 
 
 And, raptr endowed the noble beast with song. 
 
 '51 
 
 The Song. 
 
 Hear me, ye smokeless skies and grass-green earth, 
 Since by your sufTenmce still I breathe and live ! 
 Through you fond Nature gave ne birth. 
 
 And food and freedom — all she had to give. 
 Enough ! I grew, and with my kindred ranged 
 Their realm stupendous, changeless and unchanged, 
 
 Save by the toll of nations primitive. 
 Who throve on us, and loved our life-stream's roar, 
 And lived beside its wave, and camped upon its shore. 
 
 They loved us, and they wasted not. They slew, 
 With pious hand, but for their daily need ; 
 
 Not wantonly, but as the due 
 Of stern necessity which Life doth breed. 
 
 V'ea, even as earth gave us herbt^e meet, 
 
 So yielded we, in turn, our substance sweet 
 
 To quit the claims of hunger, not of agreed. 
 
 So stood it with us that what either aid 
 
 Could not be on the earth forgone, nor Heaven forbid. 
 
 And, so, companioned in the blameless strife 
 Enjoined upon all creatures, small and great, 
 
 Our ways were venial, and our life 
 Endc^ in fair fulfilment of our fate. 
 
 No gold to them by sordid hands was passed ; 
 
 No greedy herdsman housed us from the blast ; 
 Ours was the liberty of regions rife 
 
 In winter's snow, in summer's fruits and flowers— 
 
 Ours were the vii^n prairies, and their rapture ours ! 
 
 So fared it with us both ; yea, thus it stood 
 In all our wanderings from place to place, 
 Until the red man mixed his blood 
 
 With paler currents. Then arose a race — 
 The reckless hunters of the plains — who vied 
 In wanton slaughter for the tongue and hide, 
 To satisfy vain ends and longings base. 
 This grew ; and yet we flourished, and our name 
 Prospered until the pale destroyer's concourse came. 
 
■( ■ 
 
 ■'•■ i 
 
 1^- 
 
 
 •S» The Last Bison 
 
 Then fell * double tenor on the plains. 
 
 The iwift inspreading of destruction dire- 
 strange men, who rava^ our domains 
 
 On every hand, and nnged us round with fire i 
 nile enemies, who slew with equal mirth 
 The harmless or the hurtful things of earth. 
 In dead fruition of their mad desire • 
 The ministers of mischief and of might, 
 Who yearn for havoc as the world's supreme delight. 
 
 So waned the myriads which had waxed before 
 
 When subject to the simple needs of men. 
 A»j™".ds to eating seas the shore. 
 
 So yielded our i-ast multitude, and then- 
 It scattered ! Meagre bands, in wild dismay. 
 Were jjarted and, for shelter, fled away 
 . . t*?"™ wastes, to mountain gorge and elen 
 A resmte brief from stem pursuit andlwr 
 ••or still the spofler sought, and still he slew us there. 
 
 Hmt me, thou gtas^reen earth, ye smokeless skies, 
 
 Smce iDy your sufleiance still I breathe and live ! 
 The chanty which man denies 
 
 Ye still would tender to the fugitive I 
 1 feel your mercy in my veins— at length 
 My heart revives, and strengthens with your strenirth— 
 V .a,. '««. '°° ■*"■ ••■' «>iinige ye would gi'e I 
 Naught can avail these wounds, tl2 Idling br«S 
 This frame which feels, at Ust, the wily touch of death. 
 Here must the last of all his kindred fiUl ; 
 
 Vet, midst these gathering shadows, ere I die- 
 Responsive to an inward call. 
 
 My spirit fein would rise and prophesy. 
 I see our spoUers build their citira great 
 Upon our plains— I see their rich estate : 
 
 The centuries in dim procession fly 1 
 Long ages roll, and then at length is bared 
 The time when they who spaiijnot are no longer spared. 
 Once mora my vision sweeps the prairies wide 
 
 But now no peopled ciUes greet the sight ; 
 All perished, now, their pomp and pride : 
 In sohtude the wild wind takes delight. 
 Naught but the vacant wilderness is seen. 
 And graMy mounds, where cities once had been 
 
 WiU „■" "'"'' ™'J^,* ■" °f y"' *= *i« ««: bright. 
 
 W Ud catUe graze and bellow on the plain, 
 
 And savage nations roam o'er native wilds again ! 
 
The Last Bison 
 
 '53 
 
 TJe burden ceased, and now, with head bowed down, 
 The bison smelt, then grinned into the air. 
 An awful anguish seized his giant frame. 
 
 Cold shudderings and indrawn gaspings deep 
 
 The spasms of illimitable pain. 
 One stride he took, and sank upon his knees, 
 Glared stern defiance where I stood revealed, 
 Then swayed to earth, and, with convulsive groan, 
 Turned heavily upon his side, and died. 
 
IT, 
 'I 
 
 it. 
 
 ir 
 
 ( '54 ) 
 
 MISSIPOWISTIC. 
 
 (Written at the Grand Rapids of the Saskatchewan.) 
 
 LJERE, in this howling torrent, ends 
 •»■ * I he rushing river, named 
 By savage man 
 Saskatchewan — 
 In dark tradition famed. 
 
 His source. Creation's dread abyss 
 Or in the glacier's cell ; ' 
 
 His way, the sweep 
 Of canyons deep. 
 And clefts and chasms fell. 
 
 And forth from many a mountain's side 
 He leaps with laughter grim ; 
 Their spurs are slit, 
 Their walls are split. 
 To make a path for him. 
 
 A^tdown mto the plains he raves 
 With dusky torrent cold, 
 And lines his bed 
 With treasure shred 
 From unknown reefs of gold. 
 
 And, monster-like, devours his shores, 
 Or, wnthmg through the plain, 
 Casts up the while 
 Full many an isle, 
 And swallows them again. 
 
Misdpowistic 
 
 For though, betimes, he seems to sink 
 Amidst his prairies pale. 
 
 He swells with pride 
 
 In summer-tide, 
 When low-bom rivers fail. 
 
 And knits tradition to his shores 
 
 or savage fights and fame, 
 
 When poaching Cree 
 
 The Blackfoot free 
 
 With magic arms o'ercame. 
 
 Of Wapiti and Spanish horse, 
 And of the bison horde, 
 
 A transverse stream, 
 
 As ia a dream. 
 Which flowed at every ford. 
 
 And of the whites who first espied 
 His course, their toils and cares ; 
 
 Of brave Varennes, 
 
 The boast of men, 
 And prince of voyageurs I 
 
 Of ancient settlement and farm 
 
 Ere France his wantons pressed ; 
 
 Ere royal mind 
 
 For lust resigned 
 
 The Empire of the West. 
 
 Of him who once his waters churned — 
 The blufi' fur-trader King- 
 Mackenzie bold, 
 Renowned of old 
 For his far wandering. 
 
 Of later days, when to his shores 
 The dkuntless Franklin came ; 
 
 "SS 
 
'5^ Miaslpowistic 
 
 Ere Science lojt, 
 In Arctic frost, 
 Tlie life, the lofty aim. 
 
 'Or of the old Boisirili town, 
 
 Whose huts of log and earth 
 
 Rang, winter-long. 
 
 With jest and song. 
 
 And wild plain-hunters" mirth. 
 
 And of the nearer, darker day. 
 Which saw their offspring leap 
 To arms, and wake. 
 With frenzied shake, 
 Dull Justice from her sleep. 
 
 Or, turning to the future, dreams 
 On Time, and prophesies 
 The human tide 
 When, by his side, 
 Great cities shall arise. 
 
 The sordid tide, the weltering sea. 
 
 Of lusts and cares and strife ; 
 
 The dreaded things 
 
 The worldling brings 
 
 The rush and roar of life. 
 
 And onward tears his torrent still, 
 A hundred leagues withdrawn, 
 Beyond the capes 
 And silvan shapes 
 And wilds of Chimahaun. 
 
 Down through the silent forest land. 
 Beyond the endless marge 
 Of swale and brake. 
 And lingering lake. 
 Beyond the DtmUharge. 
 
Missipowistic 
 
 Till at the Landing-place be lifts 
 Hit crest of foam, and, quidc 
 
 As lightning, leaps 
 
 Adown the steeps 
 Of Missipowistic I 
 
 Whilst o'er him wheels the osprey's wing- 
 And, in the tamarac glades 
 
 Near-by, the bear 
 
 And Mooswa share 
 Their matchless mossy shades. 
 
 Whilst echoes of the huskies' yells 
 From yonder woods are flung 
 
 At midnight dim, 
 
 A chorus grim. 
 As if by demons sung I 
 
 But, see ! Here comes a birch canoe ! 
 Two wiry forms it bears. 
 In quaintest guise. 
 With wrinkled eyes — 
 Two smoke-dried voyageurs ! 
 
 " We'll take you down ! Embarquez done — 
 Embarquez done, monsieur ! 
 
 Well steer you through 
 
 The channel true," 
 Cries each old voyageur. 
 
 " Nay. look ye, men— those wdls of foam. 
 Yon swirling ' cellars ' fell ! " 
 " Fear not to pass, 
 Thou Moniyas ! 
 We know this torrent well." 
 
 " I've roamed this river from my youth — 
 I know its every fork." 
 
 '57 
 
158 Missipowistic 
 
 "And I have made," 
 The other nid, 
 " Full many a trip to York I " 
 
 Soho ! Ill go I The Rapids caU I 
 With hamper at my vnag 
 We salljr down 
 Their foaming crown 
 Like arrow from the itring — 
 
 Into the yeast of waters wild, 
 Where winds and eddies rave I 
 Into the fume 
 And raging spume 
 And tempest of the wave I 
 
 Past rocky points, with bays between, 
 Where pelicans, bright-hued, 
 Are flushed to flight 
 With birds like night— 
 The cormorant's impish brood ! 
 
 And madly now our frail craft leaps 
 Adown the billows' strife. 
 And cleaves their crests 
 And seething breasts 
 As 'twere a thing of life. 
 
 As dips the pandion for his prey 
 So dips our bark amain. 
 
 We sink and soar, 
 
 And sink and soar. 
 And sink and soar again ! 
 
 Till, following the foaming fall 
 Of one long, throbbing wave, 
 
 Enrapt we glide, 
 
 And seem to slide 
 Down, down into its grave ! 
 
Miasipowistic 159 
 
 " O break ! O break I iweet balm, loft air ! " 
 No, no, we mount I we rise I 
 
 Once more the dash 
 
 And deafening clash 
 Of billows flout the skies. 
 
 Till, swept o'er many a whirling swell, 
 The final surge is past, 
 
 And, like the strife 
 
 Of human life. 
 We reach calm floods at last. 
 
 Now, thanks, ye grim old voyageura I 
 No man has flinched in fear 
 
 Yet in earth's round • 
 
 I've seldom found 
 This life and death so near. 
 
 Thanks, thanks to you, good men and true ! 
 Here we shall rest awhile, 
 
 And toast the bold 
 
 Coureurs of old 
 Upon the Prisoneis* Isle. 
 
( "6o) 
 
 THE IROQUOIS AT THE STAKE. 
 
 {Aiuitn Rigimtt cirta l68a ) 
 
 BROTHERS ! all things have end, as hath this fea«- 
 This farewell feast of sweet sagamity 
 And fine brown flesh of beaver and of bear. 
 Your own provision I have thus set forth 
 After the ancient custom. VtVAit jrou ate 
 I sat aside, and thought how we are one — 
 In language, race — in all things one save love. 
 I sat aside, and pondered in mj soul 
 The severing hate which seals my lingering death, 
 Yet sweetens still the foretaste of its pangs. 
 
 The feast now over — bowls well scraped — but first, 
 Confess I run the gauntlet well ! Ah, ha I 
 No hatchet hit this loftier head than yours, 
 And, save these mangled hands, all's right with me ! 
 Why not, since you, the quarry of my chase, 
 Have ne'er o'ertaxed my speed to run you down ? 
 
 This galls you I Good ! Let womanish passion rise— 
 Your childish rage — and break my leave to speak ! 
 When captives of your nation give us feasts 
 We let them speak ; yet, I remember me. 
 They but beseech their miserable lives — 
 Not death, with torture, as we do. 
 
 One word I 
 In lieu of him who perished by this axe 
 Yon dotard will not take me for a son — 
 A substitute worth fifty of his tribe I 
 Belike, that wench rejects my brotherhood. 
 
 i 
 
The Iroquois at tbe Stake 
 
 i6i 
 
 Though thui the might be liiter to a man, 
 
 Not to a Yendat dog with loul ailcew, 
 
 Who ineaked and marled. This is your ChiePi deiira— 
 
 As far from mine as I am from your power 
 
 To make me quail at aught that you can do. 
 
 What I Lift you up I An Onondaga help 
 
 Your recreant breed to rise I Nay, were this urged. 
 
 Then would your torture strike ! 
 
 You bear with this I— 
 Struck dumb, mayhap, by some ancestral thought. 
 For, Yendats, I perceive we might be one 
 But for this flood of hate which, turned to love— 
 For now my thoughts clear up with coming death- 
 Might well oppose the flux which threatens all ; 
 Those pale, thin streams which up our inlets pour- 
 Diverse, yet deadly. Ah ! " Yonondio 
 Is still your friend with whom you trade," you say, 
 " As we do with Corlaer " : and, true, their tools 
 Are finer than our flints, their kettles thin. 
 And better than our clay, their arms- but, what ? 
 "Jfo more ! " you cry ; then lead me to the sUke ! 
 (ffe is led fy the ffurem to the place of torture.) 
 Now here, behold me ! Atotaroh's son ! 
 For he it is you ambushed yesterday — 
 A goodly priie — so now exhaust yourselves I 
 But, hark I no common cords, since you must tie 
 An Onondaga's very spirit down ! 
 You will not heed ! and I am bound, you fools. 
 After your fitshion ! for one strain, and see ! 
 Your moosewood strings and linden lashings snap 
 Like rotten twigs ! (flings them in their teeth,) You 
 must be taught to bind I 
 
 Chut ! yelping urchins, hence ! Ye wizened crones 
 And scribing hags, sUnd ofi'! Your wise men know 
 I am their sacrifice, and not your sport. 
 Ye warriors, what I would say is this : 
 
ill 
 
 ii I 
 
 i6a The Iroquois at the Stake 
 
 Naught holdi the Onondaga but bii itocks 
 Of iron-wood, or the hard gray willow withe. 
 Bring this, then tie me to our people'! tree — 
 The foliaged elm, leaf-wreathcn to the root ! 
 
 Believe me, chiefi, I have no fear of death — 
 That liet not in the compais of my soul I 
 Nay, I rejoice in this your lacrilice 
 To neat Areskoui, who, from the sun, 
 Looks down upon us all. Yet there are thoughts- 
 Like storm-clouds beating up against the wind, 
 Or eddies running counter to the stream — 
 Which fain would stem our currents of revenge. 
 For did Yonondio but look on this — 
 Cotlaer I those rival raveners, whose maws 
 Would drink our rivers and devour our lands I 
 How they would smile to see you round me now. 
 And whisper, sidelong, from their screening palms — 
 " One foe the less, one fertile tract the more 1 " 
 Ah, they would gloat upon this dance of death ; 
 For they who still beseech will yet demand, 
 And dance in grinning triumph round you all ! 
 
 {/rmiiea/ eries) 
 Have we not heard — but wherefore should I speak, 
 Since you but mock me with assent ? forked words 
 Wherewith unwittingly you stab yourselves ! 
 Have you not heard your fathers' tales of yore — 
 How the destroyers voyaged with the sun 
 O'er boilirg reaches of outlandish foam, 
 And, anchoring fast by many a torrid isle. 
 Woke the mild Arrawac from his livelong dream ? 
 You Aave not ! care not ! Foes are friends, friends foes, 
 In the dread turmoil which confuses all I 
 Yet, if your ears have served not, I have seen 
 Old Wamesits and Wampanoags who know 
 T/uir pale-faced pilgrims from across the sea ; 
 The men who came with faded, upturned eyes. 
 And, supplicating some outlying land, 
 
The Iroquois at the Stake 
 
 163 
 
 With ittbtle lauinR, itnigbi enluged thanudvet— 
 
 Who from the gift made title to the whole, 
 
 And thnitt the red men bade upon the ribs 
 
 Of tpinjr mounuini, bleelt with tummer mow, 
 
 Till great Metikcomet aroM^ and fell I 
 
 And, otherwhere, encaied in iron they came. 
 
 Or in bkck rebea — and won you to their aide I 
 
 Through you they imote us, tore our caitlet down, 
 
 And lought to lay the mighty " Long-Houte" low, 
 
 Which ebe had ipread— a shelter for us all ! 
 
 Away all thoughts and feeltnKS save my hate^ 
 
 Which bums and hisses in my veins like fire — 
 
 Hate infinite and fierce, whose sense will dull 
 
 The pangs of all your faggots and your flames I 
 
 O fools ! we were the tempest, you the leaves 
 
 Which fled befoie it I Traitors to our race. 
 
 Where are ye ? Erie or Andastt, speak I 
 
 Ye craven remnants of the Yendat — where? 
 
 Your emptied forests tell— your ruined towns I 
 
 O you poor creatures of Yonondio, blush I 
 
 Your women should deride, your children jeer, 
 
 And Atahensic, from her silver home. 
 
 Look down and curse you ! Ah I come back, my soul ! 
 
 This rage is viler than the fear of death I 
 
 O Jouskeha, give calm I that I may feel. 
 
 And so endure, and by endurance please 
 
 Ariskoui and thee I 
 
 The withes at hut ! 
 My meaning has been reached, and I am bound ! 
 No flimsy setting this, half-fast, half-free. 
 But the triced frame, as stubborn as the elm ! ' 
 Ah, there is something yet unsaid, but, no— 
 The darkness falls ! Now, torches and the Fire ! 
 
 
( >64 ) 
 
 ':'r 
 
 I 
 
 m 
 
 p. 
 
 n 
 
 KANATA. 
 
 ■yHE Eastern and the Western gates 
 ■*■ Are open, and we see her face ! 
 Between her piney steeps she waits 
 
 The coming of each alien race. 
 Dear Genius of a virgin land, 
 
 Kanata ! Sylph of northern skies ! 
 Maid of the tender lip and hand. 
 
 And dark, yet hospitable, eyes. 
 
 Thou art our Spirit of Romance, 
 
 Our Faerie Queen, our Damsel lorn, 
 Who, framed by some mysterious chance, 
 
 In undiscovered woods wast bom. 
 In days of love and life gone by. 
 
 Ere waned the light, ere ebbed the tide. 
 Wild singers sought thy company. 
 
 And supple forms from forests wide. 
 
 They sported on the golden shore, 
 
 And far dim headlands of the past; 
 Untrammelled all, their spirits bore 
 
 No sense of soil by passion cast. 
 No philosophic doubts were theirs. 
 
 No tideless, stem pursuit of gain, 
 No weariness pf life, no cares. 
 
 No yearnings underlaid with pain. 
 
 But, wild and tme and innocent. 
 They pluckea the blossom of the year. 
 
 Where savours of the woods were blent 
 With music of the waters clear. 
 
Kanata 
 
 Death had no lean ; it but revealed 
 A spectral world to spectral eyes, 
 
 Where spirit-wildingii roamed afield. 
 And spirit-pinions swept the skies. 
 
 Where still the chase they would pursue. 
 
 And o'er the vacant rivers glide 
 With ghostly paddle and canoe. 
 
 With phantom forests on each side — 
 Forever, where no frost should fall 
 
 To waste the sweetness of the light. 
 Nor old age and its funenl, 
 
 Nor bitter storm, nor ancient night 
 
 'Tis past, Kanata ! Weightier days 
 
 Strain tight the girdle of the year ; 
 Fale feet are in thy forest-ways. 
 
 Pale faces on thy plains appear ; 
 And eyes, adventurous, behold 
 
 The gathering shadows on thy brow, 
 Where sacred graves of grassy mould 
 
 Turn black beneath the westering plough. 
 
 Thy plains are whispered of afar. 
 
 Thy gleaming prairies rich increase ; 
 And, leaning on their tools of war. 
 
 Men dream of plenitude and peace. 
 For Europe's Middle Age is o'er. 
 
 And still her ways are undefined. 
 And darker seem the paths before 
 
 Than the dark paths which lie behind. 
 
 Perchance ! b^. still I see them come— 
 Her uncouth peasants, seeking rest, 
 
 Sighing for sympathy, a home 
 And shelter in the peaceful West, 
 
 >6S 
 
ili 
 
 i 
 
 
 •*6 KanaU 
 
 Where ancient foes in race and creed 
 May never more the tyrants see, 
 
 Who eat the bread of ciaft and greed, 
 And steal the wine of liberty. 
 
 Vain promise and delusive dreams 
 
 Which gloie the hidden, narrow heart ; 
 Here man's own vile and selfish schemes 
 
 Will yet enact the tyrant's part. 
 Alas ! foi equal life and laws. 
 
 And Freedom 'neath the Western sun ; 
 Here must they stand or fall— her cause 
 
 On these fresh fields be lost or won. 
 
 Still must she fight who long hath fought ; 
 
 Slill must she bleed who long hath bled ; 
 There is no consecrated spot, 
 
 No clime where she alone doth tread. 
 Devise for her your " simple plan," 
 
 Or " perfect system," as of eld ; 
 The> count not where insensate man 
 
 Spcrns his own right to be controlled. 
 
( '6? ) 
 
 VAIN REGRETS. 
 
 WHEN I recall the days misspent, 
 The unabiding hours of youth, 
 The erring thoughts with pleasure bent, 
 The poor and shallow search for truth. 
 Then vain regrets take hold of me 
 That, sailing on the summer sea, 
 I dreamt not of a wintry flood 
 Which I must cross in solitude.' 
 
 Had I but thought of ihis — descried 
 
 The stormy winds, tht tempest strong. 
 The heaving wave, the darkling tide — 
 Discretion then had found a tongue. 
 I should have studied well the art 
 Of seamanship — the pilot's part — 
 Re-rigged my craft, without, within, 
 And laid my soul's provision in. 
 
 Repining I "Tis the way with man : 
 
 Repine not ; rest, O heart, secure ! 
 Affections lie within thy span 
 
 Of thoughtlessness which must endure. 
 There friendship had its steadfast root, 
 There true love bore its fadeless fruit. 
 If these condemn, then let me be 
 Wrecked on the future's stormy sea ! 
 
 Call back the past, and let us hear 
 
 Its tender voices as of yore ; 
 Let the old welcomes greet the ear, 
 
 The old friends meet us as bdbre. 
 
i68 
 
 Vain Regrets 
 
 And, ah I let memory fulfil 
 Her perfect tajk— bring back the thrffl 
 Of chord, long hushed, of loving sighs. 
 And eyUads from vanished eyes ! 
 
 They are not dead, they do but sleep : 
 
 They come ! I see, I feel them alL 
 By recoUection touched, they leap 
 
 Responsive to the spirit's call. 
 Depart from me, ye vain regrets, 
 ve selfish fears which time begets i 
 The future, like the past, is mine, 
 i'or memory's light is light divine. 
 
 Then courage ! to the helm, the sail. 
 And let the roaring tempest frown ! 
 What though the billows should prevail. 
 
 What though the whelming waters dix)wn ? 
 i hey cast us on the further shore : 
 1 hink not they change what nature bore— 
 *ond, unreflecting souls, yet true 
 To friendship, love, and Heaven, too I 
 
(•69 ) 
 
 OPEN THE BAY! 
 
 j^i' j"','«"i'™ °f Hudson's Stnuts is impracticable.'— ^»/,W/. 
 
 "The Hudson's Bay route is a chimera. "-/Wto/k- Torontij Ncas- 
 pttper. 
 
 /~\PEN the Bay, which o'er the NorthUnd broods, 
 >-' Dumb, yet in labour with a mighty fate ! 
 Open the Bay I Humanity intrudes, 
 And gropes, prophetic, round its solitudes, 
 In eager thought, and will no longer wait. 
 
 Open the Bay which Cabot first espied 
 In days when tiny bark and pinnace bore 
 
 Stout pilots and brave captains true and tried 
 
 Those dauntless souls who battled, far and wide. 
 With wind and wave in the great days of yore. 
 
 Open the Bay which Hudson— doubly crowned 
 
 By fame — to science and to history gave. 
 This was his limit, this his utmost bound- 
 Here, all unwittingly, he sailed and found. 
 At once, a path of empire and a grave. 
 
 Open the Bay ! What cared that seaman grim 
 
 For towering iceberg or the crashing floe ? 
 He sped at noonday or at midnight dim, 
 A man ! and, hence, there was a way for him. 
 And where he went a thousand ships can go. 
 
 Open the Bay I the myriad prairies call ; 
 Let homesteads rise and comforts multiply ; 
 
 WBBTdrwsnnarffsiMt ' 
 
ml 
 
 'ii '■ 
 
 *ii 
 
 
 '.' ' 
 
 [ 
 
 I; 1 11 i 
 
 170 
 
 Open the Bay! 
 
 Give to the world the shortest route of all, 
 Let justice triumph though the heavens should fall ! 
 This is the voice of reason — manhood's cry. 
 
 Open the Bay ! Who are they that say "No"? 
 
 Who locks the portals ? Nature ? She resigned 
 Her icy reign, her stubborn frost and snow. 
 Her sovereign sway and sceptre, long ago, 
 
 To sturdy manhood and the master, Mind ! 
 
 Not these the foe ! Not Nature, who is fain 
 
 When earnest hearts an earnest end pursue ; 
 But man's old selfishness and greed of gain : 
 
 These ancient breeders of earth's sin and pain 
 
 These are the thieves who steal the Nation's due ! 
 
 Such are the heirs of traders Gillam led — 
 
 Such were they in the past, with souls obtuse 
 When duty called— who, recreant, and dead 
 To England's honour, hung the craven head. 
 And struck the British flag to La Perouse. 
 
 And such are they who, in their Eastern place. 
 
 Say, " It is folly and the purpose vain ! " 
 The carrier and the shallow huckster's race — 
 Theirs are the hands, not Nature's, which efface. 
 And seal the public good for private gain. 
 
 Open the Bay ! Let Earth's poor people in ! 
 
 What though the selfish interests lie and flout— 
 Open the Inlet ! Let them growl and grin. 
 And Power still hobnob with them in their sin — 
 
 Humanity, their master, is about ! 
 
 It looks abroad, and with purged vision sees 
 Man's wily nature bared, not overcast ; 
 
 It comes to scatter to the winds his pleas. 
 
 His privilege and bland accessories. 
 And with strong arm right the wronged land at last. 
 
Ss ' 
 
 ( I?' ) 
 
 IN MEMORY OF WILLIAM A. FOSTER. 
 
 AND he ii gone, who led the few 
 Forecasters of a nation fair ; 
 That gentle spirit, strong and true 
 As ever breathed Canadian air 1 
 
 Forever fled ? the kindly face. 
 The eager look, the lambent eye. 
 
 Still haunted by a boyish grace — 
 Can these from recollection fly? 
 
 The counsel sound, the judgment clear, 
 The mild thought brooding over all. 
 
 The ready smile, the- ready tear — 
 Can these from recollection fall ? 
 
 Ah I well do I remember still 
 The sultry day, whose sun had set ; 
 
 The hostel near the tower-crowned hjU,* 
 The parlour dim where first we iKt ; 
 
 The flush of hope, the joy divine 
 On that pale eve of loftier tines,! 
 
 When, with his friendly hand in minCi. 
 He praised my poor Canadian rhyaes ; 
 
 And sung the old Canadian songs, | 
 And played the old C^wdian ain, 
 
 Then turned his smile on bncied wrongs. 
 And laughed away a jwith's despairs ; 
 
 * Parliament Hill. 
 t Confederation. 
 
 X Mr. Foster was fond of French-Canadian sono ; if^ vivacity and 
 pUuitiveness equally touched him. ^ vivacny ana 
 
Ill 
 
 ill 'Vl 
 
 
 m In Memoi7 of Wllltan. A. Porter 
 
 I^t s build on native fielda our fame • 
 Nw ieek to blend our patriot pride 
 With alien worth or alien shame I 
 
 " *^^.''"" ** falterers who dopond— 
 The doubting spirits which divine 
 No suble future save beyond M* . 
 
 Their long, imaginary line ! wf M 
 
 " But mark, by fate's strong finger traced, 
 Our country's rise ; see time unfold. 
 In our own land, a nation based 
 On manly deeds, not lust for gold. 
 
 " Its bourne the home of generous life. 
 Of ample freedom, slowly won, 
 Of modest maid and faithful wife. 
 Of simple love 'twixt sire and son. 
 
 " Nor lessened would the duty be 
 To rally, then, around the Throne : 
 A filial nation, strong and free- 
 Great Britain's child to manhood grown I 
 
 "But lift the curtain which deceives. 
 The veil that intercepts the sight, 
 ine drapery dependence weaves 
 To screen us from the nobler light. 
 
 " Firet feel throughout the throbbing land 
 A nation's pulse, a nation's pride— 
 The independent life— then stand 
 Erect, unbound, at Britain's side !" 
 
 And many a year has fled, and now 
 The tongue which voiced the thought is stilled • 
 
 The veil yet hangc o'er many a brow? ' 
 
 The glonous dream is unfulfilled. 
 
 ^ilii.,. 
 
In Memoiy of WUUam A. Foster 173 
 
 Yet Ocean unto Ocean criet I 
 For uf their mighty tidet go forth. 
 
 We front the lun— behind us lies 
 The myitery of the unconquered North 1 
 
 And ardent Aspiration peers 
 Beyond the clouds, Iwyond the night, 
 
 Beyond the faltering, paltering years. 
 And there beholds the breaking Light ! 
 
 For, though the thoughtful mind has passeo 
 From mortal ken, the generous hand — 
 
 The seed they sowed has sprung at last, 
 And grows, and blossoms through the land. 
 
 And time will realize the dream. 
 The light yet spread o'er land and wave ; 
 
 And Honour, in that hour supreme, 
 Will hang bis wreath o'er Foster's grave. 
 
 Written in ligS. 
 
( 174 ) 
 
 ABSENCE. 
 
 MY thoughts are full of gloom to-night, mr heut ii fuH 
 of pam ; 
 And tnn, dull ai a blind man'i, roll adown my cheeln like 
 ram. 
 
 And yet the moon is beaming bright, the stars are shining 
 true, ^ 
 
 Yet dimly, in their distant skies and fields of palest blue. 
 Within my home the lamp-light shines a chamber's length 
 
 along, 
 And there my children's voices rise in hughter and in song. 
 Without, assembled here and there, the trees like phantoms 
 
 stand. 
 And cast their spectral shadows down upon the spectral 
 
 land. 
 And all around are sweetest sounds— the music of the night. 
 The sidelong whisper of the leaves, the churme of waters 
 
 bright 
 A dream of fragrance filU the air, the moon-flower's cud 
 
 oerflows, *^ 
 
 And subtle eats, perchance, may hear the breathing of the 
 
 rose. " 
 
 The dark green earth, the pale blue heaven with mellow 
 
 grace are clad. 
 The night-flower blows, the music flows, and yet mv heart 
 
 IS sad. ' 
 
 For my delight is far from me— it comes not at my aV., 
 The perfect womanhood, which gave a meaning to them all. 
 The burning rose turns to the moon its folded heart, dew- 
 fed. 
 The gentle lily shrinks and hides its pure and stainless herd. 
 
Absence 
 
 '7S 
 
 Thejr «re but parts qf Nature'i pUm ; my love unita the 
 wholei 
 
 ^.i' ""i? rf '" B'o**"* fo'" poMewed the Uly's wuL 
 *uu well I know, behind the veil, a loving purpoie leigni 
 Throu||han the myitery of earth, itspleaiurei and iti paint. 
 Tree nghi for tree, flower lighi for flower, love bind, them 
 
 m it> thrall ; 
 But the it far away whote love, with mine, diicovered all. 
 
»««»OCO»Y IBOIUTION list CHA«T 
 
 (ANSI and ISO TEST CHART No. 2) 
 
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( "76 ) 
 
 : , 'I 
 
 THE RIVER OF PAIN. 
 
 'pHERE is a stream which flows beneath the skies, 
 _^ Whose flood is fed by aching hearts and eyes. 
 Onward it rolls forever down the years, 
 In seeming peace, yet brimmed with secret tears. 
 
 Few seek to trace it to its hidden source ; 
 Few arms are stretched to stay it in its course. 
 With hfe It flows, with life's expiring breath 
 It leaps in anguish to the sea of death. 
 
 Yet time's allurements on its surface glow, 
 And on its banks the flowers of passion blow; 
 Its charmM water silvers on the oar. 
 Its hollow laughter peals from shore to shore. 
 
 For there the worldlings sail, afiect to rest, 
 Or, sated, sleep upon its fleeting breast ; 
 Or, fevered, wake to find themselves again 
 But further borne adown this stream of pain. 
 
 Beset with fears, perturbed by human ill, 
 They dread the fated flood, yet haunt it still. 
 Like Custom's slaves, who, blinded by desire. 
 Build and rebuild o'er subterranean fire ; 
 
 Nor note that counter current's strong employ— 
 The grief, the tears which thrill with finer joy— 
 The stream which, set against the world's device 
 Flows back to Heaven through self-sacrifice 
 
les, 
 
 The River of Pain 
 
 Or catch a glimpse of that immortal clue, 
 Yea, clearly see when sense to soul is true ; 
 Yet coldly turn aside, nor seek to gain 
 The simple issue from the maze of pain. 
 
 But idly sigh—" Sufficient for the day 
 The ills thereof, inseparate from Life's clay ; " 
 Or, " Other men may come when we are gone. 
 And solve the problem— let the stream roll on ! " 
 
 •77 
 
( >78) 
 
 CA30T. 
 
 AXTHAT matters it if on the stormy shore 
 V V Of wild Newfoundland or stern Labrador 
 His foot first fell, or on Cape Breton's strand ? 
 The dauntless sailor somewhere hit the land ! 
 
 The Land ! No pent-up nursling of the sas, 
 Fanned in the Gulf-stream by the torrid breeze : 
 For Ocean grim this grim sea- dog had cast, 
 Triumphant, on his furthest shore at last. 
 
 With loud huzzas St. George's banner flew. 
 First o'er the main— a world, an Empire new ! 
 Whilst woke the Continent, and, from his lair, 
 The wilding rushed, and shook his streaming hair ! 
 
 Time sped, and saw full many a flag unfurled 
 In fierce contention for that virgin world ; 
 Saw France's star by Britain's sun efiaced, 
 And Britain's flag by kindred hands abased. 
 
 Yet time beheld the trampled banner rise 
 Victorious beneath Canadian skies. 
 And races nurtured 'neath its sway go forth. 
 In welded strength the Nation of the North. 
 
 And where is he who gave a realm to these 
 Large heirs of Freedom, rulers of its seas ? 
 What recompense was his ? What high acclaim ?— 
 An unknown grave, a half-forgotten name ! 
 
 But, no ! The hour is ripe ; its tumult stills 
 Whilst Canada her sacred task fulfils. 
 At last* the triumph sounds, the laurels twine. 
 And incense burns at Cabot's matchless shrine ! 
 
 •The Cabot iv'-bnition at Halifax, N.S., in 1S97. 
 
( '79) 
 
 DEMOS TYRANNUS. 
 
 A VAUNT, thou monstrous product of tfae time. 
 V ?",*'- ""O'se'ess. shallow and untrue ! 
 Vain charlatan that ever lead'st anew 
 The yearning world along the paths of crime 
 Misusmg Science-thou that seek'st to climb 
 To rumous control with more ado 
 
 Th^h^ri'iT'' .'° '''' '^'"■°"= ■' ^■''»' -need is due 
 Art thou Democracy's mcarnate dream ? 
 Is thme the Gospel of its better day ? 
 Wisdom, high mind, compassion, honour spurn 
 The foul imposture. No. a holier gleam— 
 
 is stiU the light to which true spirits turn. 
 
 The thought of frail Humanity ; its tears. 
 
 Its plenitude of suffering and sin. 
 
 Its tender heart when shame first enters in. 
 
 That self-same heart grown callous with the years 
 
 Its visage hardened by the sounds it hear.- 
 
 lae moil of countless miseries, the din 
 
 S 13""^<;f'?^"^ "''''='* ^^ "■'«« they begin- 
 
 ns mind so fit for joy, so worn with fears. 
 
 We stumble yet discern. Humanity ' 
 
 These are the burdens which oppressed Christ's soul 
 
 Wrought up to triumph, midst Srth's vanity. * 
 
 By self-effacement ; this the aureole 
 
 ihe emblem of His victory— and thine ! 
 
( iSo) 
 
 THE RECOMPENSE. 
 
 (To a Great Poel.) 
 
 "T^HE world still juggles with its pleasure, feigns 
 
 A Wherein it lacks, and lives pretentious days, 
 Spuming calm joys, truth, beauty, simple ways 
 
 These old inspirers of the poet's pains. 
 
 O Solitary ! still be these thy gains, 
 The liarvest of thy thought, the things of praise. 
 The solemn chords of thy remembered lays. 
 
 The notes which live when worldly mouthing wanes ! 
 Nor these alone thy glory and reward ; 
 
 For Inspiration hath a sexless joy 
 Sweetei- than lover's dreams. Thy flights affovd 
 
 Fairer nativities than Love's employ ; 
 The offspring of a Spirit set apart. 
 Yet knit forever to the human heart. 
 
( i8. ) 
 
 RUINS. 
 
 •yHERE is a forest in the wild north land 
 with ■ "*"^/"<J grim tue very lynxes thread, 
 With quickened pulse, its glades and shadows dread. 
 
 Its jagged stems, black and fire-blasted, stand 
 
 Close-rooted in the dull and barren sand ; 
 And over league-long hills and valleys spread 
 Those ruined woorfs-a forest dark and dead— 
 
 A giant wreck r desolation grand ■ 
 Like to that otht world, the mind of man. 
 
 Wherein are wastes once innocent and dear, 
 
 And blighted all. When to such deserts drear 
 1 he spirit turns, in retrospection wan. 
 The proudest starts, the boldest shrinks in fear 
 
( iSj ) 
 
 THE CHAIN. 
 
 /~\NCE from the bitter page of Doubt it hapt 
 y That, weanly, I turned me to the wall. 
 And. lo ! there, in the hearth's dull embers, all 
 
 The self-same thoughts which harrowed me seemed mapt 
 
 But nnr were coiled a cat and kitten, lapt *^ 
 
 In furty dream ; then next, where Uy in thrall 
 Of slumber softer than a feather's fall 
 
 Dear wife and babe, I stood in silence rapt 
 O endleto chain of being and of love, 
 
 O paths and pathos of mysterious sleep, 
 Ye pointed to a world yet undescried I 
 Strarge calm befeU me, light as from above. 
 
 And thoughts which man can neither yield nor keep • 
 My heart was Blled, my house was gloriBed I 
 
( '83 ) 
 
 FULFILMENT. 
 
 yWICE has the Winter sallied from his Uir, 
 ■1 In seeming triumph, and as quick retired 
 Into the north again. So things desired, 
 And loved, still linger in St. Martin's care. 
 The flowers have vanished, and the woods are bare : 
 But, all around, stray forms, by Autumn fired, 
 Stin glow like flowers, and many a thought inspired 
 
 By Summer, yet is fit for later wear. 
 Fit and unfit— since naught consists with Time ! 
 tOT, twixt this being and what is to be— 
 Brief space where even Pleasure holds his breath- 
 Airs mcomplete. Life's but » faulty rhyme, 
 ~.?,^ half-contentedly o'er land and sea, 
 Till comes the infinite Creator— Death 1 
 
PART II. 
 
 DREAMLAND AND OTHER POEMS. 
 Revised from the Edition of 1868. 
 
( "87 ) 
 
 DREAMLAND. 
 
 IXTE are not wholly bleat who uu the earth, 
 * J , J Nor wholly wretched who inherit Sleep. 
 Behold It II a palace of delight 
 Built beyond fear of storms by day or night ; 
 
 And whoso enters doth his station keep 
 Unmindful of the stain upon l;:a birth. 
 
 ^' -ll'f'' "° ''°'** °" '* • ye«t men may take 
 Their loves into their arms tenaciously. 
 
 For Sleep is as a chamber high and fair, 
 
 Wherein warm love makes light of cold despair ■ 
 Where wives may deem theU faithless lords are nigli, 
 
 And maids may kiss false lovers for love's sake. 
 
 Thou canst not fetter it, for it is free ; 
 
 No tyrant yokes it to the Ubouring oar. 
 It IS a solemn region visited 
 By mystic radiance when the sun is fled ; 
 
 Where Labour bends hU aching brows no more, 
 And men have peace, and sUves have liberty. 
 
 See now it hath a tender bloom, like light 
 Viewed at the Autumn's latest outgoing. 
 It IS the summer of rur dail/ sorrow, 
 The solstice sweet whose winter is the morrow. 
 11,;^ u' "i""' '"^ '** ""= firstlings of the Spring, 
 Which win their fragrance in the snow's despite. 
 
 Faint, far-off sounds are blown unto our ears. 
 
 Faint, far-off savours steal unto our lips, 
 When orient dreams assemble, manifold. 
 
■** Dreamland 
 
 Where Sleep hath throned himself on «,yal gold 
 
 fhen night is noontide, morning an eclip^ 
 Where oft no comfort is but in our tears. 
 
 So nj_. may say not to himself, "Time fills 
 
 Whttlf^^f'"'^^ ""'='««' bitterness," 
 Whilst he hath sleep, a jewel without peer, 
 
 i!?, ,'',8'" """ch is its bezel here; 
 
 wK^'/f ^"l-™" "'^ '^^' ">' ''°'»s "hich bless, 
 Wherem strong forces strive with human ills. 
 
 Foi; though unequal with the unseen Powers, 
 
 Yet scale the.r universe in dreams which make 
 A »'^r']\"''"SS, a heaven for our sake? 
 And find, beyond the precincts of the day, 
 
 The gates of an elysiura which is ours. 
 
 I entered in thereat, and I had peace ■ 
 By ancient ways I went, and I had rest 
 
 And space was far about me, murmurings 
 
 And wildenng speed of undulary wings f 
 My limbs were lissom, and my soul possest 
 
 Of thousand fantasies which would not cease. 
 
 Beyond me were wide plains of amber light, 
 
 AnH i "'".^' '*«'.'"1' "*'"«<* "'"> solein gold. 
 And there the myriad wild-fowl soared on high, 
 Scattered and strewn like dust against the sky. 
 
 And, in the East, a tender shadow rolled 
 *orth from the distant antres of the night. 
 
 Aerial mountains of their substance gave 
 
 fZh i^"- ''T"l'' "''"^ '"« »'««'=es stirred 
 Family, and faintly shook the leaves. I saw 
 1 he rising mists above the mountains draw 
 
 F.r off jl^^T' '" *1 ■'""'""K '='°"<1'- >"d heard, 
 *ar-off, the sullen tumult of the wave. 
 
Dreamland ,gg 
 
 Not any space of all the world's desire 
 Was fairer to mine eyes, and, when my death 
 
 Seemed instant on my head, mine eyes grew dim. 
 
 And all the life fled out of every limb. 
 My fears I felt as one who holds his breath. 
 
 And fears betwixt the thunder and the fire. 
 
 For I was falling, falling from on high 
 With the deceitful earth, which sunk away. 
 
 Unmeasured depths were sounded as I fell, 
 
 And there was peace no more, nor could I tell, 
 tor dizziness, the darkness from the day, 
 
 S>o numb of sense, so dead with fear, was I. 
 
 Oh, blessed was the form that caught my hand 
 
 Ur, een, and swung me thrice throughout all space : 
 
 Blessed who dropt with me to ocean's brink 
 
 And gave me hope as food and love as drink. 
 And fanned with snowy flowers mine anguished face. 
 
 And soothed me with her kisses as she fanned. 
 
 Lo, she was wholly and most strangely fair, 
 Sleek-throated like a dove, and solemn-eyed. 
 
 Her hps were as an infant's, small and sweet. 
 
 And as an infant's were her naked feet ; 
 And, scarf-like, flowed and shimmered at each side 
 
 Her cloven tresses of untrammelled hair. 
 
 The melancholy waste of wave was dead. 
 And Silence haunted the Marmorean hills ; 
 
 Nor any sound of any breeze or bird 
 
 Within the mystic light or shade was heard. 
 When as she said, " O love, 'tis Life that kills," 
 
 When as she sighed, and touched my lips, and said : 
 
 "Small light have they, O love, who love their lives. 
 
 Calling the dead the past, and fearing death; 
 For these our ways aforttiiue have been trod 
 
w 
 
 •90 Dreamland 
 
 By patient sufferers who are now as God, 
 
 Being immortal, witli abiding breath, 
 In seats of joy where Hope no longer strives. 
 
 "Tis but a terror which entreats control, 
 A baseless fear which thwarts us of the dues 
 
 Of sacred death— things effable above, 
 
 And roomy thrones and light of endless love. 
 Wherefore 'tis meet to seal our fate, and use 
 
 The trodden path which disenthralls the soul. 
 
 "For I am weaiy of the day which dips. 
 And, faint with love, I hunger for thy sighs. 
 
 They who have tasted of my limbs, and felt 
 
 My yems and the keen life that in them dwelt 
 Like Are, and felt as fire my kindling eyes. 
 
 And caught my tears upon their trembling lips,— 
 
 " They shall be hateful to me for thy sake, 
 If *ou, O love, wilt drink of this with me." 
 
 Whereat a tiny, vase-like amethyst 
 
 She pressed from lip to lip, and then I wist 
 Our steps were God-like and our souls were free, 
 
 For all our flesh fell from us flake by flake. 
 
 And all our bones we gathered in a pyre. 
 Like faggots, and the flesh thereon we laid ; 
 
 And all the mystery of baleful years. 
 
 And all our mortal sleep and sin and tears. 
 We heaped upon the pile which we had made. 
 
 And closed them in, and burnt them with swift fire. 
 
 And in the smoke thereof we faded thence 
 
 Away into empyreal regions blest, 
 Beyond the utmost cloisters of the skies ; 
 And, like a flame, the lightning of her eyes 
 
 Burnt in our path, whilst upward at behest 
 Of love we soared to love's Omnipotence. 
 
 Jl 
 
Dreamland 
 
 191 
 
 Upward we rose in endless strength and youth, 
 And reached the far celestial Light which saves. 
 
 We found the realm wherein earth's sorrowings 
 
 Were heard no more, where myriad blameless things 
 Rose from their venial and lethean graves, 
 
 And found a resting-place, and called it Truth. 
 
 They rose from island and from continent, 
 Pale-featured spirits in apparel bright ; 
 
 They rose from ancient rivers and the sea. 
 
 In human shapes and garbs of chastity. 
 They came from sepulchres of death and night, 
 
 Faint with despair and long imprisonment. 
 
 A"^ »•' 'hese shapes found each its own desire, 
 Whateer its faith on earth, whate'er its creed. 
 
 The Chnstian saw at last the Son unsoiled ; 
 
 The Prophet's God upon his creatures smiled; 
 The Indian found his Manitou indeed. 
 
 Lama his Life, the Magian his Fire. 
 
 For all these souls were innocent below. 
 And loved God well who loved what He had made ; 
 
 Arid lovmg all things, though they found not Truth, 
 A ^J*' '"=*'™^ °f Heaven, and gat them youth, 
 And pined no more, but simple homage paid 
 
 In endless mitigation of their woe. 
 
 For God, who is our Master and our Lord, 
 
 Took pity on their helpless ignorance, 
 Ajid from their earthly longings, ties, and pelf— 
 T> ir outworn idols— took them to Himself, 
 
 And clad them round with glorious circumstance, 
 And all the joys high Heaven doth afford. 
 
 Oh, could I sleep forever in a dream, 
 
 Or dream such dreams forever whilst I slept ! 
 Onward they went, and sung their mystic psalms. 
 
•92 Dreamland 
 
 Screening their pallid faces with their palms, 
 
 Whither the Unimaginable kept 
 His kingly state as doth Him best beseem. 
 
 Onra^ they went unto the Paraclete, 
 With far-heard sound of voice and instrument. 
 
 I could not follow them— I could not tread 
 
 Where pa«ion burns not, and Earth's love is dead ; 
 For these had caught me in their arms, and bent 
 
 My will to theirs, and bound my feeble feet. 
 
 Yes, they possessed me, and, with keen desire, 
 I took her eyes' wild light into my soul. 
 
 I claspt her spirit form, and drunk her breath, 
 
 And then our lips, more near than life and death. 
 Clung each to each in silence, and control 
 
 Vanished as snowflakes vanish in the fire. 
 
 That moment there was darkness, and the lists 
 Of Heaven gave place unto the gloom of day ; 
 
 Whereat I woke to deadly fears and pain. 
 
 To misery of the tempest and the rain, 
 And crime and subterfuge, and fierce afiray 
 
 Of warring creeds, and brawling Mammonists. 
 
 
( "93 ) 
 
 THE PINES. 
 
 ^~\ HEARD ye the pines in their solitude sigh, 
 
 v-' When the winds were awakened and night was nigh? 
 
 When the elms breathed out a sorrowful tale, 
 
 Which was wafted away on the wings of the gale ; 
 
 When the aspen leaf «4iispered a legend dread. 
 And the willows waved darkly over the dead ; 
 And the poplar shine with a silvery gleam. 
 And trembled like one in a troublesome dreaD> , 
 
 And the cypresses murmured of grief and woe. 
 
 And the linden waved solemnly to and fro, 
 
 And the sumach seemed wrapt in a golden mist. 
 
 And the soft maple blushed where the frost had kissed ; 
 
 And the spectral birch stood alone in the gloom. 
 Like an unquiet spirit uprist from the tomb; 
 And the cedar outstretched its lone arms to the earth, 
 To feed with sweet moisture the place of its birth ; 
 
 And the liemlock uplifted above the crowd, 
 Drunk deeply of mist at the brink of a cloud ; 
 And the balsams, with curtains of shaggy green, 
 Like tents in the distance were dimly seen. 
 
 I heard the pines in their soUtude crying, 
 When the winds were awakened, and day was dying ; 
 And fiercer the storm grew, and darker its pall. 
 But the voice of the pines was louder than all. 
 '3 
 
 I 
 
 t 
 
'94 
 
 The Pines 
 
 
 m 
 
 Turn Voice of th« Pikb. 
 
 We fcar not the thunder, we fear not the rain, 
 
 for our stems are stout and long J 
 Nor the growling winds, though tSey blow amain, 
 
 » or our roots are great and stiong. 
 Onr voice is eternal, our song sublime. 
 
 Its theme is the days of yore- 
 Back thousands of years of misty time. 
 
 When we first grew old and hoar I 
 
 Deep down in the crevice our roots were hid 
 
 And our limbs were thick and green 
 Ere Cheops had builded his pyramid. 
 
 Or the Sphinx's form was seen. 
 Whole forests have flourished within our ken 
 
 Which withered upon the plain ; 
 And cities and race after race of inen 
 
 Have risen and sunk again. 
 
 We stand all aloof, for the giant's sti iigth 
 
 ,_.'''"™ "«ught from lesser powers , 
 
 Tb the shrub that loveth the fertile ground. 
 
 But the sturdy rock is ours ! 
 We tower aloft where the hunters lag 
 
 By the wean; mountain side. 
 By the jaggy cliff, by the grimy crag, 
 And the chasms yawning wide. 
 
 We commune with the stars through the paly night. 
 For we love to talk with them ; * 
 
 ,?,*!""' "°°' """P' "xi 'he marveUous light 
 Of the moon our diadem. 
 
 "^ w-rJ'fi' !T" ""= '"^'hing » honsind vows. 
 
 With their hearu and cheeks agio* , 
 Wechant a love strain, 'mid our breezy boughs, 
 
 Ot a thousand years ago ! 
 
 Cold Winter, who filches the flying leaf 
 
 And steals the floweret's sheen. 
 Can injure us not, nor work us grief. 
 
 Nor make our tops less green. 
 And Spring, who awakens his sleeping train 
 
 By meadow and hill and lea, 
 Bnngs no new life to our old domain, 
 
 Unlading, stem and free. 
 
The Pines 
 
 The pUHge of yon doth not move as moch. 
 
 And Time himnelf grows old 
 Ere we bow to his 6ight, or feel his touch 
 
 In our "limbs of giant mo<ild." 
 The Icf *■ d woods fell, by decay opprest j 
 
 The .oiliest feel his stroke ! 
 Bnt the burden of age doth lightly rest 
 
 On the ancient forest folk ! 
 
 Sublime in oar solitude, changeless, vast, 
 
 While men buiJ'l, work, and save. 
 Wo mock— for their years glide away to the past, 
 
 And we grimly look on their grave. 
 Our voice is eternal, our song suoUme, 
 
 For its theme is the days of yore — 
 Bock thousands of years of mis^ time, 
 
 When we first grew old and hoar. 
 
 '95 
 
( »96) 
 
 ADDRESS TO A MAID. 
 
 TF those twin gardens of delight, 
 
 * Thine eyes, were ever in my sight, 
 
 1 would no pinlu or roses seek, 
 
 S«Te Uiose which bloom upon thy cheek. 
 
 i would no pleasant perfume breathe 
 
 Save that which parts thy snowy teeth. 
 
 Or in sweet warblings e'er rejoice, 
 
 »jve when I listened to thy voice. 
 
 Than in the citadel of love 
 
 I would no other dwelling have. 
 
 For neighbours, then, the jewelled pnir. 
 
 Who part each night thy long, loose hair, 
 
 vr other twain who sit upon 
 
 Thy swelling breast as on a throne, 
 
 Or those two, wand'rers since their birth. 
 
 Who set smaU seals about t^'. earth. 
 
 Iwould no other seasons find 
 
 Than the reversals of thy mind. 
 
 Thus, thy delight and joy would be 
 
 Enough of summer warmth for me ■ 
 
 And thy displeasure next would hold 
 
 A season short of wintry cold. 
 
 No other food would I beseech 
 
 Than such as thy smooth chin could reach. 
 
 Or what I otherwise might sip 
 
 About its suburbs, on a lip. 
 
 Or cheek, or, higher, where the snow 
 
 In stainless whits the brow doth show 
 
 . o other sickness should I feel 
 
 Than vrhat thy queenly touch could heal. 
 
 Or any weariness or pain 
 
 That thou couldst not remove again. 
 
Address to a M«id 
 
 Thui all delights would meet in thee, 
 And I should live, and lire to be, 
 Whilst dwelling in thy happy fold, 
 A shunner of those natures cold 
 Which ever cross and cross again 
 Loves path unwitting of Love's pain— 
 Unwitting of the keen degrees 
 Of his wan languor and disease. 
 
 Such is my imaged world— in fine, 
 Une'i home should be that form of thine. 
 If so, why laugh all love to scorn. 
 And, like a stalk of fruitless com 
 Nor yield nor fill one golden ear' 
 With promise for the Future's wear ? 
 Why hide those eyes ? Enough that night 
 Finds each, like some starved eremite, 
 Shut in with coflln-lids of snow. 
 Which chill the fateful forms below. 
 Why hide them ? They their lustre win 
 From fairer fields and floods within, 
 And whatsoever thence is ta'en 
 Those eyes, my love, must give again. 
 
 Why turn, O love, why turn away. 
 Like sunshine from an April day ? 
 The past is dreary, dumb and cold, 
 And love and youth are growing old. 
 The past doth wear no weather-locks. 
 Bestirs no fields, and feeds no flocks. 
 The past is like a gloomy grot, 
 For ages hidden, and forgot 
 Till Mumbled on— and then are found 
 Some relics. When no longer sound 
 Or form of thine is heard or seen. 
 Thou art the past, and then I ween 
 Thou art forgotten, too, and, lo I 
 Art buried, though thou think'st not so. 
 
 '97 
 
'98 AddreH to « MaM 
 
 Why look io baughtjr and lo proud. 
 
 A« Time himwlf to thee had bowed. 
 
 Add cnnged, and craved with humble air 
 
 nrmufioB to prewnre thee fair? 
 
 Time carei no whit for thy delight 
 
 In beauty, er in beauty*! might 
 
 ^ou unit not coax him with thine eyes, 
 
 Or bluff him with aiperitiei I 
 
 Thou canat not hold him in thy fee. 
 
 Avajsaltothyiovereignty; 
 
 For Time his obligation pays 
 
 With silvery nights and golden days, 
 
 Till all are quit at but, and paid 
 
 In fuU by mattock, trench and spade. 
 
 This Time shall come with linger cold 
 And wrinkle up thy smooth-set mould; 
 Shall come like hoar-frost in the night, 
 ShiUl come like darkness in the light. 
 And bhnd thy sombre eyes with tears. 
 And darken thought with sullen fears. 
 And, taking thee within his arms, 
 Shall husk thy body of its charms. 
 And, for a gamic.at, clothe thee in 
 A frosty poll and wrinkled skin, 
 And, for the music of thy voice, 
 Shall give thee groans, and, for thy choice, 
 A stick, or crutch, to pick thy way 
 Adown some Autumn's golden day. 
 
 Then, being mortal, be not proud 
 
 And— love confessed, and love allowed— 
 
 My life will cUng to thee, and sleep 
 
 Shall part us not. Not any deep 
 
 In calm or storm, nor wealth, nor fame. 
 
 Nor any voice that caUs thy name, 
 
 Nor pestilence, nor poisonous breath 
 
 Of calumny— not even death 
 
 Shall rend the mystic tie divine 
 
 Which knits, O love, my soul to thine ! 
 
( »99 ) 
 
 TO MOUNT ST. PATRICK. 
 
 r^FT have I wandered by the pebbly «hore, 
 vx And in thf woodi have bad my own delight 
 
 And quiet pleaaure. 
 Farieen expanm, both by day and night, 
 
 Have warmed my sight, 
 And cauwd my lunging ipirit soar 
 From common sounds up to a lefty measure. 
 
 Yet never did I greet the clear sublime 
 Until with patient steps I clomb thy steep, 
 And looked beyond 
 A thousand forests yielding music deep, 
 And saw the thunder leap 
 In mist from cataracts whose rhyme 
 Was lost in distance, though mine ear was fond. 
 
 Out o'er the mighty wilderness I looked— 
 A world of solitude, a moming-dieam — 
 And, far away. 
 In opening woods, I saw where Bonnechire brooked 
 To swell ^^t Uttwa's stream. 
 And, further still, divinely hazed. 
 Ethereal hills stood wedged into the day. 
 
 What antique forms lay yonder, undescried, 
 
 Behind those hills in mystic valleys deep, 
 Sweet Fancy drew — 
 Of captive maidens weeping side by side. 
 
 Of fairy hermitages lost in sleep. 
 For there the distance blent with Youth's romance, 
 
 And claspt my thought away in regions old. 
 Life's shadows flew 
 
 From childhood's days, and, in a waking trance 
 I lived again its wondrous age of gold. ' 
 
(mo) 
 
 INNOCENCE. 
 
 QFT I have ma her 
 
 ^^ In openingi of the woodf and 
 
 pleuutwayi, 
 
 And hanging branche. crowned her head with bayi 
 
 Th™»fc ?'*'"'*!•«» her walk 
 
 Through flwr^eckt field, unto the oaken pau 
 
 And lambkin. gwnboUert round hi onthe giu.. 
 
 By '""dering brook, o'er which the willow, met. 
 
 R.lm«f .k ]""? "" "eodow-Iand 
 
 Balmed the wft air. with dew-mi« d«pery wet 
 
 W.JKI ^'ij* pitting ofthe wind 
 
 Had Woom^hcr cheek with colour of the ««; 
 
 With lock, and look, in movement or repow. 
 
 Beneath her iloping neck 
 Her '"W^g"."!. .welled cSa.tely, white a. ^ray 
 Tk • *T 'P""-'™'— w"hout a fleck— 
 The air which heaved them wa. lea pure than th«jr. 
 
 Strolling in Evening's eye 
 There came unto her airy laughter^hime.. 
 Tk .'*''''"■«» night-hymn and cry 
 
 The mu.ic of the leave, and river rhjiiie.. 
 
 likjj 
 
InaocMce 
 
 The floriage or Spring 
 And Sumnwt'i coroula wen ben in imit, 
 
 TiU Mme the WiIlte^Kini 
 To droop their iweetncH into native dntt 
 
 Hii (harp, embiacing wind 
 And waTering inow, or beapt in rimjr hilli, 
 
 She loved ; aj I uie could bind 
 On Fanqr*! brow hii charmM idclei. 
 
 The dingle and the glade, 
 The rock-ribbed wildemesi, the talking treea 
 ... Seemed fairer while the tuyed, 
 And drank of their dim meaningt and old can 
 
 For Nature craved her, nuned 
 Her if It at her mightjr breait ai one 
 
 Who felt the fore»t'» thirit. 
 The hunger of the mountain! for the lun. 
 
 ThoughU ivch ai day unfoldi 
 From itarry quietude and noiseleii sleep ; 
 
 Scenei which the Fancy holdi 
 In euy thraldom in her joyoui keep ; 
 
 Viiioni of Duty» height 
 And pioui legendi told at dimmeit ev«, 
 
 •n. u u.*^,"!' *«"'«'''«. '"Wly bright, 
 1 ne oaoit of her inner life to weave. 
 
 Thus chiefly did she love 
 To soothe the hidden rath, the bridled tear ; 
 
 With counsel from above 
 Ai:../iating woe, allaying fear. 
 
 For, all alive to pain. 
 Another's was her own ; Life's ceaseless care, 
 
 Which loads with chain on chain 
 The heavenward spirit, she was wont to share. 
 
"'* Innocence 
 
 Wh.,.1, ^""'''■'"d more, was hers— 
 What the sad soul remits to God alone; 
 
 What the fond heart avers 
 In secret helplessness before His throne. 
 
 p.rti, I?u ^fj^° ""de the light, 
 Earth and the bding stars, was all her guide. 
 <!»,.! .^"f ""hipped in His sight, 
 She joyed, she wept, she flung away hir pride. 
 
 Tk. r ,®?* 'bought of One who bore 
 ihe awful burden of the world's despair ■ 
 
 Than h.i„Y^i '=°,"''' '*'* S"^ Hi™ n-ore 
 Than helpful deeds, a simple life and fair ? 
 
 She was, and is, for still 
 She lives and mo ^ ^^^ grass-green earth, 
 
 And, as of old, doth fill 
 Her heart with love, still mingling tear, with mirth. 
 
 So wherefore cast about 
 For sect or creed from which no rancour spreads, 
 
 Smce we can make her out 
 By following the peaceful path she treads ? 
 
 A„H hi- 7i'?T^i'-'^™"' « """dto find, 
 And blmd behef IS oft in error's thrall ■ 
 
 Though unbelief is blind: ' 
 Though we who know a portion know not all- 
 
 Yet she is self-revealed 
 Throughout the puzzled world we wander in 
 
 And free— though unrepealed 
 Her statutes-smce she hath the power to sin. 
 
 H„ i:f ^ur "'' u' ^''°"''' "ot be makes 
 Her hfe sublime by putting it to test • 
 
 ., And in this wise awakes ' 
 The evil that is in us for the best. 
 
( »03 ) 
 
 TO A MORNING CLOUD. 
 
 "IXTHY stray'dst thou from the unseen realm of wonder 
 
 7 J To mock my soul, which fain would visit thee. 
 
 And, tireless, roam, exploring eagerly 
 Thy furthest vale, where sleeps the infant Thunder? 
 
 Alas, so fair art thou I fain would be 
 As one who knew not, and who ne'er could know 
 
 Those yearnings deep which sick«(n in the heart— 
 1 hose Idle thoughts which have in fancy's flow 
 
 Their frenzied utt'rance and unvalued part 
 Then the fair form of things I would pass by, 
 And view thee, glorious cloud, unheedingly. 
 
 What tortured rocks are those ? What clifls appalling ? 
 
 What healthy throng of men and maidens sing 
 
 By yonder lake unseen ? What echoing 
 Is that methinks I hear ? What voices calling ? 
 
 And, far away, by frequent brook and spring. 
 In fruitful Belds, behind yon snowy hills. 
 
 What rustics pay orisons to the morn 
 With outpoured beakers, ta'en from sparkling rills 
 
 Which sing forever through the tasseUed corn ! 
 Ah, me ! what happy, happy swains are there ! 
 What happy maids ! What trysts ! What joyance fair ! 
 
 Who built those palaces and lofty towers. 
 
 With crownbd battlements and standards drooping ? 
 
 And, see ! what knights pass through the arched wavs 
 stooping, ' 
 
 In haste to join fair ladies in their bowers. 
 
 Or bevy-laughers in yon gardens grouping? 
 To what far city do those strange folk bring 
 
 Their gleaming sapphires and manorial gold ? 
 
'"* To a Morning: Cloud 
 
 And whence the uncouth people foUowinR 
 
 Yon fleecy flocks escaping from the fold— 
 rhose mounting herds whos- lives so long have been 
 In scented meadow-lands and pastures plen 
 
 Methinks I hear the rolling murmur deep 
 
 Of cascades tumbling o'er thy lofty heights, 
 Arl^'ti, '"\*"??''^ ^l^^" ">e simmir n ghts 
 
 bkim with the falling foam till each aligh-.s 
 On yonder plain low-stretching to the sra. 
 
 •inL , , ""* ':°'"^' f™" "PO"' f" away, 
 Some long-lost marines with shouts and glee 
 Their moorM craft I see within yon bay— 
 
 l!i?tf^ "^''"l*'"*.''y '"»"'' » '''•^""g breeze, 
 And barks and amber-freighted argosies. 
 
 And yonder there is he, perchance, who tells 
 Of cloudlands lying westward from the sun, 
 Withm whose vales the mystic rivers run. 
 By whose banks grow the fadeless asphodels. 
 Vrrl!!T '"^^y J""<1 i' faint with odours won 
 From Summer boughs, the bees forever feast, 
 TT J»^ r' ^"^"" ■"" °f bis wonted store- 
 
 TK T,** '""^ ''°"> """^ <:o"e to yeast 
 No, k^.: r "'"'* """^ ''''''™ biU-sides o'er. 
 Nor bitter frost to seal the forest's pride, 
 And wretched make the vales and meadows wide. 
 
 °&fto? !t^'- P^'i' /""-blown flower of heaven ! 
 Gift of the dawn and far-possessing sea 1 
 We lift our wistful eyes, our souls to thee. 
 
 Transfixed with wonder at the glory given 
 To airy pageants which so quickly flee 
 
 n;.I 'k,''°" r'*'?"''^" ^'"^ to edge our cares. 
 Dissembler of the tempest and thi storm ' 
 For, like a momentary dream which bares 
 
 Mysterious feet in fields and forests warm. 
 Thy glorious beauty wastes, and leaves behind 
 The human heart cast down, the troubled mind 
 
To a Morning Cloud 
 
 »05 
 
 Frail as thy tenure are our earthly joys 
 
 Which spMd unto their end. The shades of harm 
 
 Alone abide with us — the unseen arm 
 Which smites the very infant at its ploys ; 
 
 The consciousness which thrills us with alarm 
 At sudden thought of our own being— fear 
 
 Of all-bereaving time and aimless woe. 
 The pMsion and the pangs which brought us here 
 
 Symbol life's visage, ai ' will ever so 
 Till death uplifts the bars lor all who wait, 
 And yearn along the soundless gulfs of fate. 
 
 Still let us wait beneath the glorious sun. 
 And, be his Umbs or strengthened or subdued, 
 Let light come to our eyes, for it is good 
 
 To see the sweet flowers open, one by one. 
 And watch the wild wings fleeting through the wood I 
 
 iney bear life's burden uncomplainingly, 
 And blameless live and end their blameless days— 
 
 A tender throng more finely wrought than we— 
 A imy world reproachful of our ways : 
 
 Our lives so dulled by doubt we cannot feel 
 
 The touch which strengthens them, the lips which heal. 
 
 What sudden haste ! Why art so quickly going. 
 Thou masterpiece of Nature ? Stay ! O stay l' 
 To witch our aching sense one summer day, 
 
 And feed the Spirit-fire within us glowing ! 
 Alas, it heedeth not, and, far away. 
 
 Its pomp ethereal fades to happier fields ! 
 But are we fixed ? O Soul 1 where is the dawn. 
 
 The rising of that brighter sun which yields 
 A welcome recompense for pain ? Drift on. 
 
 Thou mimic world ! Thou art not alone— 
 
 We, too, are drifting to the dim unknown. 
 
( "6 ) 
 
 THE NORTH WIND'S TALE. 
 
 T ARISE in realms of snow, 
 JL And sally from my northern keep, 
 From haunts where beig and pack and floe 
 Upon a sunless ocean sleep. 
 
 And southward from the Arctic main 
 Adown the frozen land and sea, 
 
 1 shout the paean once again 
 Of Winter's arms and victory. 
 
 *"°' / "™ he who leaves no trace 
 Of Summer on his field of death, 
 
 rS ^'™ "'^" '" ** fi""' race 
 
 Of blasts which sweep away their breath. 
 
 And duller than an old man's blood 
 fcarth s pulses beat where I repair : 
 
 The feathered songsters, with their flood 
 UJ warbhngs, vanish in despair. 
 
 The torrent's laughter and the hush, 
 The mournful music of the woods. 
 
 Grow faint; their wistful spirits rush 
 10 other haunts and solitudes. 
 
 The nut-brown cheek and matron grace 
 Of autumned earth, the dewy eye 
 
 Which gazes on her fading face. 
 Alike must shrink, alike must fly 
 
The North Wind's Tale 
 
 And over hills and mountains drear 
 I sift and heap the whirling wreath, 
 
 And sweep away the leaflets sere, 
 To hide them in the vales beneath ; 
 
 And cast my flakes upon each roof, 
 And huddle them about the eaves 
 
 The webs which have no warp, no woof. 
 The mantles cunning Winter weaves. 
 
 Aiic \ afar from shelter warm, 
 
 Ir. fciry of th ; blizzard fleet, 
 I gir 1 the wanderers in the storm. 
 
 And wrap thf . in its winding-sheet. 
 
 And often, in the mighty past, 
 I have assailed, in sleet and snow. 
 
 Great armies, till they fell at last, 
 In spite of all their martial glow. 
 
 They sank in sleep, those warriors all, 
 I" sleep which had no dream of pain ; 
 
 TUl Spring came forth with breezy call, 
 And straight unburied them again. 
 
 Long years ago a ship set out 
 
 From a far city in the West ; 
 With swelling sail and timbers stout 
 
 She heeled along the ocean's breast. 
 
 And on she sped ; her hardy crew 
 Feared not the mounting wave nor wind : 
 
 Into the dim expanse they flew 
 
 The earth-world soon was far behind. 
 
 From poop to prow the laughter rung, 
 The dance was joined by young and old. 
 
 The games were played, the songs were sung, 
 The legends and the stories told. 
 
 207 
 
io8 
 
 The North Wind't Tale 
 
 But I had urged them aU the while, 
 And, yearning on the ocean vast, 
 
 Unheeded, mocked the fleeting smile, 
 The jest each to the other passed. 
 
 And, asp-like, suddenly I reared 
 The unseen danger of my mouth. 
 
 And swept the spoon-diift as I blared, 
 And drove them fiercely to the South. 
 
 Till to the desolate ocean's brink 
 And dreary waste of wave they came, 
 
 Where frosty planets rise and sink 
 In quivering fields of wandering flame. 
 
 And now my gale, which at the first 
 Still seemed to taste of summer lands. 
 
 Into a mighty tempest burst. 
 Loosed like a monster from my bands. 
 
 And colder, colder'still I blew— 
 
 Intense and horrible— a cold 
 Which numbed the fingers of the crew 
 
 And frose the water in the hold. ' 
 
 They fed the fires, their fuel spent, 
 »Vith short'ning spirit, oil and grain. 
 
 And chafed, in wild bewilderment. 
 Their thrilling limbs, and wept with pain. 
 
 They fed the feeble fires till naught 
 
 Was left for fuel or for food ; 
 And still the icy drift I brought, 
 
 And chilled the torrent of their blood. 
 
 And through the shrouds I volkyed keen. 
 And drove my hapless victim fast 
 
 Along the gelid glades, between 
 The grinding packs and hummocks vast— 
 
The North Wind's Tale 
 
 Until the ocean ceased to flow, 
 And froie and bound her ; far and near 
 
 Great pinnacles and peaks of snow 
 Lifted their misty summits drear. 
 
 Then, like a frightful dream which fiUs 
 
 The soul with loathing, in a trice 
 I wrought a horror in the hills 
 
 And clefts and caverns of ice. 
 
 And round the ship I shrieked and howled— 
 What mortal crew could brave my glee? 
 
 Their souls fled upward as I scowled, 
 And left the lifeless clay with me. ' 
 
 The attitude each body had 
 
 When life departed, still it kept; 
 Some clutched the ropes, despairing, mad— 
 
 borne knelt in prayer, some .crouched and wept. 
 
 One even smiled— a wondrous smile, 
 
 With yearning tinged, with musing fraught— 
 
 I he death-note of a spirit's toil. 
 And conquest over earthly thought. 
 
 The look-out man upon the mast 
 Still seemed as he was wont to be, 
 
 On watch, but he was frozen fast- 
 He peered into eternity. 
 
 The ctpuin sat before his log. 
 
 Holding his pen as if to trace 
 Some words, and at his feet a dog 
 
 Lay crouched and looking in his face. 
 
 And by his side his sister leant. 
 Her upturned cheek upon her hand— 
 
 A marble countenance where blent 
 Pity and courage and command. 
 •4 
 
 309 
 
a 10 
 
 The North Wlnd'i Tale 
 
 And all were dead and stony cold, 
 Ai cold ai ever the dead can be: 
 
 And the frort of yean, and the rime of old. 
 StiU cling to their flesh and gannentry. 
 
 Fo^ though aU dead, they still are there, 
 No mote by toil and trouble worn ; 
 
 Silmt as shadows, free from caie, 
 They wait the Resurrection morn. 
 
( an ) 
 
 TO A CAPTURED FIREFLY. 
 
 On what strange food 
 
 WHERE is thy home? 
 dost feed, 
 
 Thou fairy haunter of the moonless night ? 
 From what far nectar-d fount or flowery mead 
 Glean st thou by witching spells thy sluicy light ? 
 
 Thou mock'st at darkness, and thy footsteps are 
 Where gloom hangs thickest on the silent earth ; 
 
 And, like a thought, thou comest from alar— 
 A world-wide thought which with the world had birth. 
 
 We fly to outer potencies to win 
 The solace of our sense, the means to see ■ 
 
 But t..ou dost store thy magic light within, 
 Ps.e w.^rd, and art subtler far than we I 
 
 And ^t thou art of earth, and so must fear, 
 ,„A . ™P*> ""* »'"»e, and sufler in its strife. 
 Wherein we claim a kinship with thee here 
 Thy sharers in the mystery of life : 
 
 Life which is but -jffect, perchance each track 
 
 The outburst of Infinity behind ; 
 Its manifests, which all at length fall back, 
 
 And blend again with the Eternal Mind 
 
 Surely thou hast a heart which trembles now 
 For thy dear young beneath this pulsing dome : 
 
 And fond aflections which, I know not how. 
 Find in thy tiny frame a gentle homr. 
 
(I 
 
 iia 
 
 To a Captured Firefly 
 
 And 10, maybap, thy little lin could tell 
 Of tender meetingf and of ample bliis 
 
 In green paiHlioni where thy loved ones dwell— 
 W> seek them now, and give them kin for kin I 
 
 It flits, and disappears ; perchance has found 
 A ^ve, and I have marreH an innocent life ! 
 
 Or minglea with its mates, for, all around, 
 The air in fltful radiance is rife. 
 
 ^"^."M'ng. I recall them in the past. 
 Till chanticleer rewinds his drowsy horn : 
 
 And the small pageant vanishes at last 
 In the bleached darkness of the drialy morn 
 
("3) 
 
 
 NIGHT AND MORN. 
 
 •yHE lun is stepping upwud in his might 
 * To walce the West from sleep, 
 And, while his shining hair and brows of light 
 
 Ijft lilte a giant's &ei the western deep, 
 He fills with shadow every eastern eye 
 Which saw him sink in bright obscurity 
 
 In cloudy canopy of gold-like cloud. 
 
 The Mufti saw him sink, and cried aloud 
 
 To Allah and his seer, 
 Then straightway every Arab knee was bowed. 
 
 The Moor in the wide sand-wave struck his spear, 
 Gazed a mute prayer to Mecca and the shrine 
 Where sleeps the dust of Mahomet divine, 
 
 And slipt into the darkness of a dream. 
 
 The patient Hindoo caught his latest gleam ; 
 
 In penance for his caste, 
 Self-tortured by the ancient, sacied stream, 
 
 The Farsee viewed the glory fading fast. 
 And wept his banishment from Khonzar's vale. 
 The Guebres sighed to see their god-head fail. 
 
 And felt the powers of darkness round them strong. 
 
 In distant China there was heard a song ; 
 
 The mystery and the doom 
 Of viewless ancestry employed it long 
 
 Where maids at shut of eve burnt sweet perfume. 
 The dreamer watched him fade into the West, 
 And sorrowed till his opiate wreathings blest 
 
 Wrought sleep in mystic paUices divine. 
 
 m il 
 
 
*'* Nicht and Morn 
 
 Thj AbvniniaD mw the light decline, 
 
 And felt bit amulet. 
 Allebon limbi grew cold beneath the line, 
 
 Though not a Libyan leaf with dew wa. wet 
 The dnm on bn nouelen camel ttrove 
 To gain the desert fountain and the grove, 
 
 Kre howlmg moniteri met him on the plaia 
 
 He lank from light beyond the ancient main 
 
 Of Egypt and the Nile: 
 
 .Su" o J""*" °f Pjueh gloomed aoain ; 
 
 Thin nf/^i""' """"?'^ «"""«> fron hi* letting imile. 
 Then did the mtnirning women moot their (ight 
 
 In chamber, of the East, and aching eyet 
 uewept the dtad who never could return. 
 
 Far Abyla and Calpe saw him bum 
 
 The ocean in bis ir^ 
 And, like a god indignant, from him spurn 
 
 The glorious sea^weU in a mist of fire. 
 
 iHfiT" ^ '°°*?* •*"» P'""?"* »to *e wive, 
 And left a mystery brooding on fiis grave, 
 And o er the land a solemn darkness drew. 
 
 So Asia's flowers sloped to the West anew. 
 
 And closed their leaves in sleep : 
 ^ Afnc's sons forgot their cursed hue, 
 
 So Europe's outposts Uy in darkness deep. 
 Helvellyn saw the flaming Ught no more. 
 And sacred Snowdon hid his summits hoar 
 
 In domes of mist and vaults of sullen gloom. 
 
 And now he stands above the watery doom, 
 And views our songless shores. 
 
 i.?*??"** ''°* '"'■ """"y eye» 'I'ume 
 
 With fatal light, nor any siren pours 
 Her treacherous melody at ocean's brink. 
 No elf doth seek the cloud, no fairies shrink 
 
 Into their primrose tents of shady gold • 
 
 iii; 
 
Night and Mont 
 
 But, in ibc ancient woodi, the Indian old, 
 
 Unequal to the chaae, 
 Sighi u he tbinki of all the patbi untold. 
 
 No longer trodden bjr hii fleeting race. 
 And, westward, on far-itretching prairies damis 
 The savage ihout and mbhty Uion-tranip 
 
 Ro!l thunder with the Ufking miiu of mom I 
 
 »>S 
 
 I'l 
 
( "6 ) 
 
 PONEMAH. 
 
 F'* AnJI?!^ 'k* West there', a beautiful land, 
 
 And Spmts have flown to that region unknown 
 lo welcome and wait you and me. 
 
 And all the way there we will travel with care 
 
 Fnr fh '^^ /"f • "" ">« rain shall you see, 
 
 Sl"!^^^'' 7" ""^ """ "'• ""d keep 
 1 He fair weather for you and me. 
 
 And *|;;^'°"f dreams, which with wonderment teems, 
 Shall be travelled by you and me. •>=="•», 
 
 Ere we see the far light of the waves day and night 
 In that beautiful land by the sea. 
 
 And when we unwearied, have reached it at last. 
 M, .„Wn»' snail we do there? Let me see- 
 We W.11 build us a home of the starlighTand foam 
 In our beautiful land by the sea. 
 
 We will build us a home of the starlight and foam. 
 
 AnH .h^ u^ ""■'If' ^'^^ •»" ■»"»'= wiU be, 
 And the zephyrs will play by our doors night and day 
 In our beautiful land by the sea. ^ 
 
 And every sweet smell that in summer doth dwell 
 
 Sh,n K "■* Tf '"' ^""'^ °f 'he lea, ' 
 
 Shall be wasted no more as in seasons of yore 
 In our beautiful land by the sea. 
 
Ponemah 
 
 For the music which flows from the wide 
 With the lily's voice blended will I ^ 
 
 And with us will come to inhabit our home 
 In our beautiful land by the sea. 
 
 And eveij fair thing which the ocean can bring 
 Shall be wafted for you and me, 
 
 By the waves and the winds, till a harbour it finds 
 In our beautiful land by the sea. 
 
 And up from the shore shall the relics of yore 
 
 Be carried for you and me ; 
 Old songs of the dead whose wild echoes have fled 
 
 i'rom the dim world of memory ; 
 
 And the vases which keep the pale nectar of sleep, 
 , . And the weird books of destiny, 
 And the vans which upraise the spirit to gaze 
 
 er the blue hills of reverie ; 
 
 And the gems and the gold of the realms of old, 
 
 And the rich embroidery. 
 And sumptuous things of embalmM kings 
 
 From the crypts of the isles of the sea. 
 
 And the ocean shall flow, and time come and go. 
 
 And ages on ages shall flee. 
 And bear to the glooms of their spiritless tombs 
 
 1 he dust of the slave and the free. 
 
 But the footsteps and breath of malevolent death 
 
 rsf.u ■ ■} ^ ^^""^ "* ""sy '■«»<=h yo" and me. 
 Of their ailments unclean and corruptions obscene 
 In our beautiful land by the sea ! 
 
( "8 ) 
 
 1^1^ 
 
 WINTER. 
 
 ■IXTHEN gadding snow makes hillsides white, 
 » * And icicles form more and more ; 
 When niggard Frost stands all the night, 
 
 And taps at snoring Gaffer's door. 
 When watch-dogs bay the vagrant wind, 
 
 And shivering kine herd close in shed ; 
 When kitchens chill and maids unkind 
 Send rustic suitors home to bed — 
 Then do I say the winter cold, 
 It seems to me, is much too bold. 
 
 When winking sparks run up the stalk. 
 
 And faggots blaze within the grate, 
 And, by the ingle-cheek I talk 
 
 With shadows from the realm of fate ; 
 When bards of eld, yet ever young, 
 
 Look down upon me from the walls, 
 And songs by spirit-lips are sung. 
 
 And half-forgotten madrigals — 
 Then do I say the winter cold 
 Brings back to me the joys of old. 
 
 When morn is bleak, and hearthsides cool. 
 
 And travellers' beards with rime are gray ; 
 When frost-nipt urchins weep in school. 
 
 And sleighs creak o'er the drifted way ; 
 When smoke goes quick from chimney-top, 
 
 And mist flies through the open hatch ; 
 When snow-flecks to the window hop. 
 
 And children's tongues cling to the latch 
 
 Then do I sigh for summer wind. 
 And wish the winter less unkind. 
 
Winter 
 
 When merry bells a-jingling go, 
 
 And prancing horses beat the ground; 
 When nimble spirits are aglow, 
 
 And joyous laughter rings around ; 
 When youngsters praise, and damsels blush 
 
 To hear their charms so loudly told. 
 Whilst Echo runs from brush to brush 
 
 And clepes among the valleys cold- 
 Then do I think the winter meet 
 For gallant youths and maidens sweet. 
 
 When great pines crack with mighty sound. 
 
 And icefields rift with doleful moan. 
 When luckless wanderers are found 
 
 Quite stiff in wooded valleys lone ; 
 When ragged mothers have no wrap 
 
 To shield their babes from winter's flaw ; 
 When milk is frozen at the pap. 
 
 And beggars shiver in their straw — 
 Then do I hate the winter's cheer. 
 And weep for springtime of the year. 
 
 When Christmas-hosts their comrades meet, 
 
 And fetch old jorums from the bin ; 
 When viols loud aiid dancers' feet 
 
 In ruddy halls make merry din ; 
 When women smile, ai.H men are fain, 
 
 And loving-cup, or loving-tale. 
 Sends pleasure mounting to the brain 
 
 Till night and stars and planets fail — 
 Then do I laud the wintry breeze 
 Which brings such ripened joys as these. 
 
 But when the solstice chills my friend, 
 And steals the sunshine from his heart ; 
 
 When death's conveyancers descend, 
 And he must seal, and we must part ; 
 
 219 
 
Winter 
 
 All gainless grows the Christmas cheer, 
 
 And gloomy seems the New Year's light • 
 roi joys but live when friends are near, 
 And vanish when they quit the sight- 
 Then, Winter, from thy glamours freed, 
 I cry thee false in heart and deed ! 
 
( a" ) 
 
 SUMMER. 
 
 TLT IE me now, and give me rest 
 
 ■••■'■ In great fields by Summer drest ; 
 
 Where the moist peabloom is seen 
 
 Smiling on the tender bean ; 
 
 Where the maize unfolds its silk, 
 
 And unhoards earth's balmy milk ; 
 
 Or where stand the oaten leaves 
 
 Dreaming of the Autumn sheaves ; 
 
 Or where lovingly entwine 
 
 The vetchling and the sweet woodbine. 
 
 Or let me entranced go 
 
 Where the heavy hautboys grow, 
 
 And receive the first impress 
 
 Of fond Summer's fruitfulness. 
 
 Thrilled by brook and forest-tune 
 He has donned his flowery shoon, 
 And where Spring was wont to be 
 Sports in all his gaiety ! 
 
 Now the lazy lagging Hours 
 
 Drowse within his fretted bowers. 
 
 And his leafy henchmen keep 
 
 LinkM arms in poppied sleep. 
 
 Silently in musky dell 
 
 All the listless Zephyrs dwell ; 
 
 Silently in dewy mead 
 
 Birds and painted insects feed, 
 
 Whilst the overhanging sky 
 
 Feeds his scattered flocks, that lie 
 
I 
 
 Summer 
 
 Basking neath with sunny smiles 
 Ere they rally to their toils, 
 And, in music of the rain, 
 Dance to mother-earth again. 
 
 O Day ! give me aU your gleams, 
 All your sun-warm, throbbing beams, 
 Such as pant in meadow-still, 
 By the brook or upland hill ! 
 O Fields ! give me all your flowers 
 Which beguile the wanton Hours, 
 All the windrowed meadow's math, 
 Every note each small bird hath, 
 Every breeze by woods delayed. 
 Each cool place those woods have made ! 
 So may I your treasures prove 
 Richer still at each remove, 
 
 Till bright Vesper, shim'ng through 
 
 Evening's haze of tender hue. 
 
 Brings the gloaming— the repast 
 
 On what day had overcast ; 
 
 Till — too fine for every ear — 
 
 Nature's lover tr"- may hear. 
 
 Faery-sweet, the subtile note 
 
 Of the opening primrose ; float 
 
 In pure fancy on the path 
 
 Moonlight on the water hath ; 
 
 Or, in quest of bygone themes, 
 
 ijipse into the realm of dreams, 
 
 Dreams of old-world chivalry. 
 Bout and joust and revelry ; 
 Or, more suited to our land, 
 Dreams of forest chief and band : 
 Braves in paint and plume arrayed. 
 Sun-burnt youth and dusky maid 
 Paddling down, in days gone by. 
 Spirit lake or haunted snie ; 
 
Summer 
 
 Huddling in their barks in fear 
 When strange voices hit the ear ; 
 Or encamped where, mountain-throned, 
 Star-lit, monarch pines intoned 
 Earth's primeval homage, backt 
 By wild chute and cataract ; 
 Hearing Nature's Spirits then 
 Talking to the souls of men ! 
 
 Or, if Fancy still would trace 
 Forms ideal, forms of grace. 
 Still would haunt, in dreamy trance. 
 Kindred regions of Romance, 
 Let her now recall the sweet 
 Image of lorn Marguerite, 
 In the forest-screened chtteau 
 Of the ri'oald, foul Bigot ; 
 Or restore the restless mien 
 Of hope-fed Evangeline, 
 Robbed of love's pure ends by fate 
 At the very altar's gate ; 
 Follow, and recall her quest 
 In the wide spread, savage West, 
 Seeking, through love's living flame. 
 Him who never came — yet came ! 
 
 Or let roving Fancy delve 
 In the fields of " Eighteen-Twelre ; " 
 In her dreams recall the sward 
 Where the wife of lame Secord, 
 Knowing Bcerstler's subtle plan 
 To surprise the British van 
 In the far camp where it lay, 
 Roused her cows at break of day, 
 Hoaxed the sentry thus, then passed. 
 Smiling, to the forest vast. 
 Call up now that sultry morn — 
 Call up her who sped forlorn 
 
 "i 
 
ijlf* 
 
 "4 Summer 
 
 Through the swales and trackless woods, 
 Wolfish wilds and solitudes, 
 TiU at night, with heart aflame, 
 
 ifru t "'"'' '^■"P ••'6 Mine 
 With her priceless tidings then 
 For FiuGibbon and his men. 
 
 Or let Fancy cease to roam, 
 And build up a dream of home ; 
 Wide old porches overgrown 
 With rosebuds or roses blown, 
 Red-warm walls and gables fine 
 Hung with clematis and vine, 
 Latticed casements, roofings steep. 
 Dormers quaint, eaves cool and deep, 
 Shady copses, lawns and bowers 
 Neighboured by old-fashioned flowers. 
 Water wandering through the ground. 
 And a boscage all around 
 To shut out the evil eye 
 Of the envious passer-by. 
 
 Such the dream of outer things— 
 Whats within the vision brings ; 
 In the vestibule, upsUnding, 
 Grizzlies twain ; upon a landing 
 Of the wide stairs in the hall. 
 A haunted clock, antique and tall ; 
 Forest spoils and trophies fine. 
 Relics of a manly line. 
 All around, and, everywhere. 
 Flowers, rare books, and pictures iai« ■ 
 Rooms for stately life designed, ' 
 
 Rooms for body, rooms for mind, 
 Sunlit passages, or dim. 
 Eerie lofts and garrets grim. 
 Wherein moves with stealthy tread 
 Something which the youngsters dread— 
 
Summer 
 
 A lurkiijd .hade which haunuth phce, 
 The Spint of an ancient race. 
 
 In that maniion then descry 
 Gentle forms— a mother jigt,, 
 Midst her children young ;>r.d old, 
 Inmate dearest of the fold. 
 Hither, too, in maiden-quest, 
 Youth has come at love's behest. 
 Whilst the Pleasures without pain, 
 Tenants true of Home's domain. 
 Bring in gifts of song and rhyme 
 To beguile old fleeting Time. 
 And sweet Fancy, ever-flowing, 
 Still dreams of those dear ones glowing 
 With delight, and lovely all. 
 Whilst the rippling laughter-fall 
 And the roseal strains they breathe 
 Part their lips and snowy teeth ; 
 Till Fate waves his magic wand' 
 And the Summer-vision fond 
 Of a home, by love bedight. 
 Melts into the morning light. 
 
 Ye who faint with city moi' 
 Come and stay with me awhile ! 
 We will travel, we will roam 
 To the heart of beauty's home, 
 To the dim and silent land 
 Where the jewelled larches stand 
 In their mosses many-hued — 
 Haunts where still the wood-nymphs brood. 
 Thither, from a world of pelf. 
 Led by banished Pan himself ! 
 Or, enravished, we will go 
 Where the rarest orchids grow 
 In their valleys. Come along 
 Through the lowlands thrid with song, 
 'S 
 
 "S 
 
»>6 Summer 
 
 Rich in poob, in runnels rife, 
 
 Haunted In primeval life I 
 
 Or let's seek the upUnds all 
 
 Where the red-ripe berries fall 
 
 From their spines in juicy sweetness, 
 
 Marking, too, the wood-dove's fleetness, 
 
 Or, betimes, the inky yeast 
 
 Of scared black-birds caught a-feast, 
 
 Or, that thriller of the soul, 
 
 The fire-flash of the oriole ! 
 
 Then, our pleasures to enhance. 
 With a last delight, perchance. 
 Home won, in a dream retrace 
 All our paths — nay, hit the place 
 Where, with laughter soft and song, 
 Dreamland's upp'ritions throng 
 Round a (urn- t.il now unseen, 
 The Spirit of this dim demesne — 
 The Poet's Summer steept in rest — 
 A Vision I undefiled and blest. 
 
 ii 
 
 
 H' 
 
 #1* 
 
 it 
 
 
 1 
 
 it', 
 
( "7 ) 
 
 TO MY PHOTOGRAPH. 
 
 CHADE of myielf ! Go seek my fair, 
 »-' And tell her all that we have seen 
 In dream-wrought palaces of air 
 Where we have been I 
 
 And tell her how we oft repose 
 Within the weird mirage's flight, 
 
 Or travel where the Zodiac glows 
 With mystic light. 
 
 Or, Upting from those realms of trance, 
 How we have thrid the world of things, 
 
 Where Nature-love hath led, or Chance, 
 Our wanderings. 
 
 How ofien, in the warm old woods. 
 Drowsed with the forest fumes have bin. 
 
 Or studied all their changing moods 
 In shine or rain. 
 
 Or traced the small streams to their source 
 High up amidst the meadow-lands. 
 
 And parted branches in our course 
 With patient hands. 
 
 And lingered by the storied hill, 
 
 The lake, the legendary vale, 
 Or read, midst leaves and shadows st'll, 
 
 Some breezy tale. 
 
*t» 
 
 i 
 
 To My Photofnph 
 
 And drank when the wOd Indiuii dnnk. 
 And walked together where the* walked : 
 
 Yea, met their ihadet by many a bank. 
 And with them talked. 
 
 Of °n »•>• mounUin lummit itood, 
 High-gazing o'er the foreiti wide, 
 
 And tuyed against the wlitude 
 With lilent pride. 
 
 Of "ught the muse where myriads kept 
 Their hideous strife and needless wars. 
 
 Or where the silent city slept 
 Beneath the stars. 
 
 Or waked, amidst the hum of men. 
 From dreams of temples by the sea, 
 
 Of stolM priesu and old-world ken 
 And harmony. 
 
 Ves, waked to find some men unkind. 
 And others vain, and others false- 
 Cold, sordid reptUes who would bind 
 One's very pulse. 
 
 And women, too, with paltry shapes 
 Teased out of Nature's flowing forms— 
 
 The early devotees to tapes 
 And coffin-woims. 
 
 With here and there a pleasant soul 
 To cheer our travel to the grave. 
 
 And calm us ere we reach the goal 
 Where willows wave. 
 
 And art thou, then, my very sprite. 
 And not some crafty, cunning elf, 
 
 Deceiving me— my own glad light? 
 My second self? 
 
To My Photognph „, 
 
 Come, then, uid toMt with me, my \on. 
 In Hippocrene I— 'tit meet, I think, 
 
 Th«t thou and I our joy ihould prore— 
 What I Canat not drink ? 
 
 Ah, Toicelen shape I thou knoweit not 
 The tru^ the fabled draught divine ; 
 
 The keen delight of quickened thought 
 Alone is mine. 
 
 Alack, poor visage, tongueleu shade I 
 
 No charm, no spell can I devise 
 Whereby thou mightett be arrayed 
 
 In living guise I 
 
 Whereby thou mightest thrUI with Ufe, 
 
 Taste of its temper, of its power, 
 Replace me, quit me of its strife, • 
 
 Its fleeting hour. 
 
 Yet this desert there is in store, 
 
 This vantage hast thou over me 
 That, though it seems not, I am more 
 
 A shade than thee. 
 
 For, though thou canst not weep nor groan. 
 Nor take life's pleasant things on trust. 
 
 Thou Shalt, perchance, be looked upon 
 When I am dust. 
 
( '3° ) 
 
 'fi 
 
 WOOD-NOTES. 
 
 •yHE grass is green within the glade, 
 ■»■ The leaves are dancing on the spray ; 
 And sweet it is, beneath the shade. 
 To watch their ceaseless revelry I 
 
 This is the wild convolvulus 
 
 'Tis blooming all alone for us I 
 
 The trilliums twain, the harebells, too, 
 
 Are here, and violets gemmed with dew. 
 
 The foliage hides, and yet reveals. 
 The far-off dimples of the sky ; 
 And, as a maiden's veil conceals 
 Yet makes more languishing her eye, 
 So 'twixt the branches overhead 
 A brightness with their shade is shed— 
 A trembling, dancing, furtive light. 
 Appearing oft in dreams by night 
 
 And here are deep, secluded vales. 
 
 Still by some fond illusion haunted ; 
 The regions dim of fairy tales, 
 
 And strains by mystic voices chanted. 
 But silent else, no human tread. 
 Save ours, is heard the glades among , 
 For us the trembling lights are shed, 
 For us the forest songs are sung. 
 
 Here, by this streamlet's aldered side, 
 
 A Spirit brooded long agene. 
 And Ungers still, though faith has died. 
 And fond affections thereupon. 
 
 Ill 
 
»3' 
 
 Wood-Notes 
 
 The Indian sought it year by year, 
 To spend the mellow Autumn hours ; 
 But he has fled, and we are here. 
 And all its rippling now it ours. 
 
 The vetches clasp the woodland grass, 
 
 The wild peas meet in fond embrace, 
 And gnat and bee and hornet pass 
 To revel in their 'customed place. 
 
 With clinging lichens gray and brown. 
 And moss, the rocks are all o'errun. 
 And insects forage up and down 
 The wild vines climbing to the sun. 
 
 And fike the murmur of the brook 
 
 Still seems the murmur of the trees ; 
 But, hark I those sudden voices — look ! 
 Here comes L'Oragel the Western breeze ! 
 The lofty forest reels at length — 
 In vain the oak, the elm's strength — 
 
 Their waving tops now cleave the air ! 
 O'er mountain brow, through hidden dell, 
 Hark how their mighty voices swell 
 Like giants shouting in despair ! 
 At length the breeze has reached the plain, 
 And silent are the woods again ; 
 And, at our feet, the crazy light, 
 Which danced so wildly in our sight, 
 Lies in that still, calm dreaminess 
 Which man may feel but ne'er express. 
 
 Again it comes ! the roaring wind — 
 
 And with it drifts a murky cloud 
 As black and angry as the look 
 
 To Satan by the world assigned. 
 The pealing thunder rattles loud — 
 
 God ! how yon sturdy hemlocks shook I 
 
»3» Wood-Notes 
 
 Down come the rain-drop, in a crowd 
 And wluten o'er the litUe brook. 
 
 ttark, how they dance amongst the leaves. 
 
 ^Afd /«"« thence unto thfearlh. ^ 
 
 While forcer stiU the tempest heaves 
 ine forest in its riant mirth I 
 
 Like to a soldier after fight, 
 
 Tht'i'"*"' "■' ';'°"'* ^' '^"ed to frown : 
 1 he rain comes slower, slower down. 
 
 n/^^' '° *' "*"■ '" "PO^^K bright, 
 
 By wdenmg eastward, glads the sight. 
 
 The foam has vanished from the rill, 
 
 The flowers are rapt; with dim delight 
 The thirety Earth has drunk her fill- 
 But aU the trees are raining still 1 
 
 ATOke, ye woods, each wonted strain ! 
 
 Thu^I'''^ "'^^^' »'■" »nd near 
 
 TV. "* carolling again, 
 
 The buaring insects reappear. 
 The forest fantasies, the throng 
 
 Of sentient forms, the whisper low 
 ui tree and stream, entrance us long. 
 
 And thnll our being as they flow. 
 
 "'■'2* ^e 'he friends that Nature gives, 
 
 rheir voices ever are the same] 
 And aught that she has fashioned lives. 
 
 And breathes to loving ears its name! 
 *or her mysterious side, concealed 
 
 From sullen souls who will not see, 
 IS partly opened and revealed 
 
 To those who guard her sanctity 
 
( »33 ) 
 
 THE MORNING LAND. 
 
 "TTHE light rains grandly from the distant wood, 
 A For in that wood the hermit sun is hid ; 
 So night draws back her curuins, ebon-hued, 
 To close them round some eastern pyramid. 
 
 The listless dew lies shining on the grass, 
 And o'er the streams the light darts quick away, 
 
 And through the fields the morning sunbeams pass, 
 Shot from the opening portals t' the day. 
 
 Still upward mounts the tireless eremite 
 (While all the herald birds make loud acclaim), 
 
 Till, o er the woods, he rounds upon our sight. 
 And, lo ! the western world is all aflame. 
 
 From out the landscape lying neath the sui. 
 
 The last sea-smelling, cloud-like mists arise; 
 The smoky woods grow clear, and one by one 
 
 The meadow blossoms ope their winking eyes. 
 
 Now pleasbd Fancy starts with eager mien— 
 On tiptoe, looking o'er the silent fields. 
 
 Where all the land is fresh, and calm, and green. 
 And every flower its balmy incense yields. 
 
 And I, who am upon no business bent, 
 A simple stioUer through these dewy ways. 
 
 Feel that all things are with my future blent, 
 Yet see them in the light of bygone drys. 
 
( *34 ) 
 
 MY LOVE. 
 
 (A Rhapsody.) 
 
 XXTHO hath not seen my love ? Her violet eyes 
 V * Like morning blooms awake, and, all aglow, 
 The heavenly frmtage yet untasted lies 
 
 On the full lip which swells and smiles below. 
 The movements of her noiseless feet keep time 
 To tremulo"s music of a world-old song 
 Which all the Hours do breathe into her ear ; 
 Ai L many, many languish in their prime, 
 For hopeless love of her who hath been long 
 My chiefest joy through the full-ieasoned year. 
 
 Be not too boist'rous, nor too free to take 
 
 Those curls into thy lap, O Summer wind I 
 But ever gently let the faint breeze make 
 
 Cool places for her midst the leaves, or find 
 Some dome-like cloud to hide her from the sun. 
 
 And Winter solstice, when you draw anear, 
 
 Breathe not too rudely on her tender form 
 
 Ah, make not chill my love ! for she hath won 
 
 My very soul from me, and I do fear 
 The rash snow-wreathing and the heedless storm I 
 
 Who hath not seen my love ? Ye twining flowers. 
 
 I know she has been with you ! for ye droop 
 And pine for her fond presence, and the hours 
 
 Seem dull and dark shoul 1 she no longer stoop 
 To kiss away the dew-drops from each lip. 
 
 And, O sad streamlet, tell me why you moura ? 
 Mayhap it is for lack of those twin feet 
 Which she all carelessly is wont to dip. 
 
 And lave within your flood at eve's return. 
 When love's hours run to moments swift and sweet. 
 
My Love 
 
 Mayhap you grieve for her divided care — 
 
 (O fondest care whiche'et did grace the earth I) 
 Yet still you seem not unto her less fair. 
 
 Though love has come to quiet down her mirth. 
 And, though sweet fancy flees your wanderings, 
 
 And lurks in love's own world within, and fears 
 And hopes new-born within her bosom swell. 
 Yet every lucent, dew-clad morning, brings 
 
 Its cool delight, and, list'ning, still she hears 
 The vestal, Natt!'", hymning in her cell. 
 
 Here let me linger by my love's own stream, 
 
 And gaze into the water where it frets 
 In endless monotone, till, in a dream. 
 
 It slips away with me, and quite forgets 
 Its ancient haunts amid the peaceful woods. 
 
 Then, in another land, my love with me 
 Will sit and sing old summer-songs of youth 
 By its green banks, and take the amber floods 
 
 Of sunset, or the silence of the sea. 
 To witness our firm oaths and plighted truth. 
 
 Yea, though she loved me not, still would I bring 
 
 A vision of her beauty to the mead. 
 Midst hummings soft, and music on the wing, 
 
 And daisies huddling with the tangled weed 
 Still would I place pale blossoms in her hair. 
 
 And, in her lap, moist lilies, white and wan. 
 And meadow-sweet, which rarest scent distils. 
 And all the wilds woyld know that she was there. 
 
 For I should call hev name till Echo ran 
 From vale to vale, far-questioning the hills. 
 
 I ask not how this pleasing fondness came 
 Into my heart, and, yet, for many a time, 
 
 I have been mirthful at love's very name. 
 Who now, alas ! am vanquished ere my prime. 
 
 »3S 
 
 • - ; 
 
236 
 
 My Lore 
 
 I udc not. 'Tif enough for me to feel 
 The quick pulM throbbing and the hastened breath 
 When all the soul-fed brightnew of her eye. 
 Doth glnm upon me ; then my sensea steal 
 Away from me as from some saint who saith 
 Deep prayers, or maketh holy sacrifice. 
 
 O that the twinkUng eve were come again, 
 10 feed with dew the soft, melodious leaves. 
 
 And wake the nodding primrose whid hath Uia 
 toT hours and hours unseen, like one who weaves 
 
 Forever his daydreams and sits apm. 
 So to my love's own bower might I repair. 
 
 Takes aU the beauty from the night— and there 
 '" ""teness, save the beating of my heart, 
 Draw near, and listen to her quiet breathing. 
 
 Yes, I wiU Usten while the wan stars wheel 
 Along the dusk, and watch each filmy lid 
 Of thine, my love, until thou dost reveal 
 
 Thln'^lt'Sf ' "^"""^ r* "y *■««■ '»"«'*'' them hid. 
 Then wit thou place thy paly cheek to mine. 
 And feel the sadness of love's ecstasy. 
 And I will kiss away thy painless tears. 
 ^^o^.dosa may our thoughts entwine 
 This night, sweet love ! this night, whilst you and I 
 Make patient promise for the future years. 
 
( »37) 
 
 TO THE SPIRIT OF MEMORY. 
 
 'T'HE forecasts of our lives recall us 
 * To thoughts and tbreatenings of decay ; 
 The Present's need and toils inthral us, 
 
 And hold us as their slaves to-day. 
 O Spirit ! bear me on thy pinions bright, 
 For thunder rends the summer clouds to-night ; 
 And with the morrow comes the sultry light, 
 And all the earth's stem traffic vast. 
 
 So back my spirit flies, pursuing 
 
 The trail of bygone time again ; 
 Each retrospection still renewing 
 
 The vanished hours — but not their pain I 
 For savours of the sadness of the years, 
 Though lingering still, are not the wounds, the tears I 
 These thou dost heal, and, in thy light, man hears 
 Naught but the music of the Past. 
 
 O Spirit I gentle^ melancholy. 
 
 What bei,edictions can repay 
 Thy tenderness to bygone folly, 
 
 Thy hiding of its stains away? 
 Thou art the Judge, 'tis said, whom God has given 
 To try our souls from earth, despondent, driven ; 
 And so, perchance, upon the bench of Heaven, 
 Thou wQt rule gently at the last 
 
(>38) 
 
 IN MEMORY OF THOMAS D'ARCV 
 McGE& 
 
 /^UR ejrei are fall 01 tears, 
 
 ^^ Of sounds of grief our ears, 
 And anger thrilU our veins and clenched hands : 
 
 And vaguely we await, 
 
 As from the lips of fate. 
 The murmur of the wrath of many lands, 
 
 The travel of a fire which brings 
 
 The horror of an Empire on iu wings. 
 
 For he who knew to touch 
 Our ears with language such 
 
 *',.'iV?'?^ "*« '°^« "arth when time was younu 
 
 Which brought us from the night 
 
 Of darkness to the light 
 Wherein a nation into being sprung. 
 
 Lies colder than our thoughtful fears 
 
 Bom of the madness of these guilty years. 
 
 Cold is the agent brow, 
 
 And cold the lips are now. 
 Which parted, and strange r<Dture and delight 
 
 Came to men's hearts and minds 
 
 Like joumeyings of the winds. 
 Or stars which shine, or flowers which blow by night. 
 
 And Fancy, like a dream, drew by 
 
 The curtains of a cloudless destiny. 
 
 Yea, we like children stood, 
 When, in his lofty mood. 
 He spoke of manly deeds which we might claim, 
 And made responses fit 
 Whilst heavenly genius lit 
 
In Memory of Thomas D'Arcy McGee 
 
 Hi« meUtncholx eyes with lambent flame, 
 And nw the distant aureoles, 
 And felt the future thund« in our souls. 
 
 Of more he dreamed than this — 
 
 What was not nor yet is. 
 But in the far-off v€on is to be— 
 
 Of tyrant Wrong dismayed, 
 
 And Crime in ruins laid — 
 Cast under foot, nor found on earth or sea; 
 
 Of every realm, when hate shall cease, 
 
 Made glorious with a heritage of peace. 
 
 For he had caught a gleam 
 
 Beyond the sacred stream 
 Which steals betwixt the twin Phccdriades, 
 
 Or that far mountain scene 
 
 Where flows the Hippocrene 
 ^Vhich struck the wingbd steed between his knees, 
 
 Beyond the gloom and awful smoke 
 
 Of Pythos' cave or Hella's whispering oak. 
 
 A later glory caught 
 
 From holier founts, and fraught 
 With simpler love of life, and sacrifice 
 
 Of wayward, wild desire. 
 
 Which eats the flesh like fire. 
 And binds our souls with iron beneath the skies ; 
 
 And thence he rose on flashing wings 
 
 Beyond the seeming fate and changeless things. 
 
 And in his songs was light, 
 
 And in bis words was might, 
 To lift our hopes unto the wished-for end. 
 
 When jealousies of creed 
 
 Shall, like a loathsome weed, 
 Be cast away, and man with man be friend. 
 
 Nor any think the souls unpriced 
 
 That linger sadly at the feet of Christ. 
 
 »» 
 
»4o In Memofy of Thomw D'Arcy McGce 
 
 And in bit viiioni true 
 
 There came high rormt anew 
 
 Dim outline! of a nation yet to ttand. 
 
 Knit to the Empire'i fate, 
 
 In power and virtue great, 
 The lord* and reaper* of a virgin land— 
 
 A mighty realm where Liberty 
 
 ShaU roof the northern cUmet from sea to lea. 
 
 And when 'gainit the emprise 
 Arose those enemies 
 Who|ie house is hell with chambers full of death. 
 Who knit their hands and weep, 
 ^d curse us in their sleep. 
 And drink the wine of madness with their breath, 
 «e wrung the secret from their minds, 
 And cast their schemes unto the shuddering winds. 
 For as a Spirit stood 
 Before the Seer good, 
 Bnght-eyed, with amber ribs and limbs of fire, 
 And caught him to the skies. 
 Whence, with relucUnt eyes. 
 He viewed the wicked's sin and mad desire. 
 And saw beneath the waning day 
 His haunts and chambers of dark imagery. 
 
 So, not by feeble chance 
 
 Of time or circumstance. 
 He scanned their features and their turpitude. 
 
 But his unclouded sight 
 
 Burned through the blackest night. 
 And m our nudst unscreened the felon brood, 
 
 And warned them from ™,r blameless doors 
 
 Back to their hateful fie) Pnd alien shores. 
 
 ■ For this they slew him ! Now 
 
 We lift his icy brow. 
 And in our anguish vainly cry to Thee 
 
In Memoiy of Thomas O'Arcy McGee 
 
 341 
 
 Who irt our God I How long 
 Smul balluh crime be strong 
 And sUviah iinrits tamper with the free ? 
 AI«i,th«t«ll. rd.y. are bleak 
 With hate W^ , chills and crime which pales the cheek. 
 
 Yea, these our days are cold 
 
 With driftings manifold 
 °^}*?^ sorrows deep'ning with the past : 
 
 And Time, slow-swift in flight, 
 
 Still brings his ancient blight. 
 And shadows from increasing clouds are cast • 
 
 And hearts still ache, and heavy hands ' 
 
 Grow weary with their toil in many lands. 
 
 For far and near seem blent 
 
 With hollow merriment 
 The gioanings of the travail of the earth : 
 
 And gray-haired grace is old, 
 
 And coward hearts grow bold, 
 And shameless cheeks are creased with soulless mirth • 
 
 And, everywhere, who looks espies ' 
 
 A world's swift tears, dr cold, hard-hearted eyes. 
 
 Yet as blooms melt in fruits. 
 
 Or dead flowers live in roots. 
 So time may bring the fabled after-age. 
 
 When Knowledge shall be found 
 
 Emboldened and unbound. 
 And H^ven shall grow more kind as men grow sage. 
 
 And Earth, no longer tempest-tost. 
 
 Shall match again the grace she once hath lost. 
 
(»4») 
 
 IDEALS. 
 
 'T'HERE ii a wondroui creature in my mind, 
 
 *■ Eluiive, and yet aeldom from my right ; 
 A form ideal, yet ol womankind, 
 
 Which haunts my waking thoughts by day and night. 
 But, save in thiswise, never shall we meet. 
 
 Though conscious that some unknown region bears 
 Each other's form for other lips to greet. 
 
 For other hands to shield from common cares. 
 If I have thought it lay in Life's design 
 
 To be with her forever ; still to hear, 
 Adown the pathway of each fading year. 
 
 Her gentle voice— if 'twere a dream of mine 
 Which destiny must utterly desttoy — 
 
 Still we are one I whom fate will keep apart. 
 I yearn for her— my unsubstantial joy 1 
 
 She longs for the ideal of her heart. 
 
(M3) 
 
 TO A HUMMINGBIRD. 
 
 "piS here ! This wonder from a distant clime 
 A Has come again, by procreant love opprest I 
 
 I .["j u ^1?""''' *"°"'« ••«"'' y« ba"en nest, 
 ImpeUed by Nature's sovran law sublime. 
 It comes to sweeten and fulfil the time 
 Amidst the fluriage of the far North- West 
 So, near its thin vangs, thrilled with fine unrest, 
 Uouched like a boy again I drink their rhyme 1 
 Unce more from lips mature my blessing take, 
 Thou Bird of Faeryland that dost awake 
 Remembrance of lost song and vanished art I 
 For, n^idst the fond illusions of the heart, 
 }^» like a bird thou hast appeared to me 
 Than some fine image in old poesy ! 
 
( 244 ) 
 
 BARDOLPH REDIVIVUS. 
 
 (To a Friend) 
 
 \X7HEN Plato in his cradle slept, the bees 
 » * Swarmed at his lips, for so the legend goes ; 
 But, fickle creatures, coy and hard ;o please, 
 
 They sure mistook, and settled on your nose ! 
 Mayhap it is your spouse who loves to tease, 
 
 And aggravate its shining bulk with blows 
 Or twitches, for her sweet amusement's sake. 
 Perchance it cometh of the drams you take — 
 
 That subtle, fiery redness— who can tell ? 
 Ay, who can tell, great nasal organ bright ! 
 
 What vintages, or distillations, dwell 
 Pent in those caverns awful in our sight ? 
 
 Dark with the morn, but, in the darkness, light 
 
 A purple cloud by day, a flame by night I 
 
(>45) 
 
 GERMS. 
 
 THE silent shadows lay about the land, 
 In aching solitude, as if they dreamed ; 
 And a low wind was ever close at hand. 
 
 And, though no rain-drops fell, yetalway seemed 
 The rustling of the leaves like falling rain. 
 I could not tell what livelong ease or pain 
 Found hoatse expression by »he river's brink 
 
 Where moving things mys ous vigils kept. 
 These had their joys, perchance, whilst I did link 
 
 Sad thoughts of bygone pleasure till I apt. 
 Then, following a path, I knew not where. 
 Which 1. d— as 'twere the pathway of Despair- 
 Through ruined woods, owl-hooted, vile and grim, 
 I came at last upon an opening dim ; 
 A place where surges of some sullen lake. 
 Near by in darkness, seemed to beat and break. 
 And in its centre stood a hermitage. 
 
 Enveloped in a brooding tempest's pall, 
 Lit by the fitful lightning, bent with age. 
 
 Gray, sinister, and shaping to its fall. 
 And, entering that gloomy house, I heard 
 The lonely cricket chirp, until I feared 
 Some ghost might hide me in a wilderness ; 
 And, near me, moaning, in a dream's distress, 
 A weird form laboured. Then a great storm's gleam 
 And crash awoke me. Was it all a dream ? 
 
(m6) 
 
 LOVE'S LAND. 
 
 TXTHEN those unfathomable eyes of thine 
 V V o Love, are closed no longer can I see ! 
 There are no looks to take the gloom from mine. 
 No soarings from the sordid earth for me 
 But, when they gaze on mine, methinks I'rise, 
 On spmt wmgs, to some enchanted land 
 Where mystic seas take colour from the skies. 
 And voiceless on a mountain-top I stand 
 
( »47) 
 
 TO AN INFANT. 
 
 CMILE on, thou tiny mystery, nor ope 
 
 ^ Those tear-fed eyes now curtained down by sleep ! 
 
 Wake not, nor start, thou mother's tender hope ! 
 
 A mother's fond eye doth a vigil keep. 
 Now bends she o'er thee, and recalls the kiss > 
 
 And throes which gave thee be'ng on a time, 
 
 ??«.*'•?« doubly dear. Be hers the bliss 
 
 Of building a^'y mansions for f^y prime I 
 But I, who know the shadov ., yet to come 
 
 Of care and sorrow and of solitude. 
 Well-springs of deeper tears, here lay my heart 
 
 To hers in silence, passionate though dumb- 
 Foreseeing thee upon Life's weltering flood 
 
 Drifting, who knoweth whither ? but apart. 
 
( '48) 
 
 TIME. 
 
 W^oV"i? ""]''''"'" ^'^''' ■" Wenay gui.e. 
 » » O Time I and I was happy in thv mirht • 
 For Wthful .leep was tender to mfne«4 * ' 
 And morning filled them with increashie light 
 At length came Knowledge and the .low fur^rise 
 
 So^L^T* '^ri'' ""'^^S^ ""y 'e-noraeless flight. 
 So then I took thee, Time, for what thou art! 
 
 Death s Factor I The immeasurable sea 
 And the green continents it smites apart 
 
 Are borne to their sublime deccy by thee I 
 Stern servant 1 Creature mightier than the Karthl 
 
 In somTn^T'^-*"" **f"' ""' «"'" l"^. should know 
 In some unfading realm, some second birth, 
 Thy final cause, and mark thine overthrow I 
 
 
NOTES 
 
( »5' ) 
 
 NOTES TO "TECUMS11 
 
 TECUMSEH AND THE PROPHET. 
 Note I. Page ii. 
 
 sp^ S.//"^ Ji"'" Tecumseh spmng w«, a bmnch of the wide- 
 ff rtTc .u ^'"'/'.O' Delaware race, which had lone been settlrf 
 1„^ Sou", and wWh, for IhU rea«>n, received the nam! «?«« Shaw 
 rh^'r«k W^^:ir- /'T"S '^■=™"= involved ,™ diL^ti wiTh 
 non^ ,L ST"^' '""* """; P""'*' '"•« '" CJeorgir.nd the 
 riondu, the Shawanoes removed to the Valley of the Ohio in th^ 
 
 ittl^offhe^s""! "S!"-^' "'f^''"- ""■' 'P'-^S the,„iireslL„the 
 «St of the Al?^l° ^''" »"'' Creal Miami. The immense re|ion 
 ^«oS,n nr.hi^n""" "" """ •" ""'"Ol'™ wilderness, witKe 
 exception of the villages, or towns as they were called, of the red men' 
 and It was in one oAhese that Tecumseh was horn TK, „ I ' 
 
 Peter frn,^ '"t"" "•.'^"'■?»7. Kah.Kewa,-.q„onaby (IhrReveS 
 Ovlr ,i^ w''. *!? t""?. '•■ ^""" Ta-Kuh-mi-sah, "H. Who wSs 
 wLTtui^h."-! t"' "■'" 'i ° ."™°"'"' f"' "« chiersVrop^r nSe 
 
 £juno„?:n^:t^,'-Tt^^'.i™Xr'^frd^¥^^^^ 
 ^^t "' '•^"^ '" ^S'-" »"'' ""'"S '<> ">= recondite origin^f the 
 
 ■no the l^nther Crouching, or Lyme in Wait " hnv,. ^ ~~ 
 
 eZ';he"„I.h^Tr V'^^tiJs " 'i^-ed"frl"';,..!s:;*;„rr? 
 
 STii.- „r i u^ somebody, or of an animal.' This indiciles 
 
 ft^t anir? "" "»"•«''>=''";?' "> the class of the round-fZ or cU^ 
 h^,«^ • "-^ P"""""' '■""• •" "^ ""coon. Tecuratha and hii 
 bromer belonged to the clan of the mauel^i »m>Lror' miSulo^ 
 panther -,,m, pat, bi^ J />«/,.W, abbreviated /««, Jl toS^^T 
 
'5> Notes to Tecumaeh 
 
 or shooUnj .tar. The manilmn msi-fua lives in water onlv and i> 
 
 oUMr footing .tar.- This monittr gave name to a Shawano aan. and 
 thaclan, to which Tccumth. belonged, was classed amon. Uic dl5^ 
 
 h^^.^.i^S"^"','* "V'' °f ?"»' "•"■ «" OTerlmericaTThf 
 
 bn?JhrSL r K Tecumseh » thus a corruption of Tecumtha, 
 
 Mm« IT^„ "°,"""''i"°'''.'"'P''="' "« ■•"" '" book'. ^- 
 
 erb^h:?„';;^::"^Si*" "■' '""■-'• '- "-f-™"^ -*^- 
 
 nnSL ■""""" i° *" "?'!!"" »• *'"' "« e«eption of the British 
 uniform, n reproducuon of the one given by Lossiis in his •■ IWriS 
 
 skeLhm":^ t '^^ W-'-A'*"'" '^ ''™'"" whi^was t"ken Sri 
 ?,iS^„ .1 1 r^ '?.'""=?'• The unifonn was borrowed by Lossinir 
 
 Ti?,',J^ ^.1, °. *'"J"'™ "°" »f'" '^'^ surrender of Detroit. 
 JSTlJcS rr*""'"' • Jl^-J'-'-e^erals uniform upon .Z= 
 special occasion—a review or a banuuct— but, if .so, it was soon Hi.: 
 
 riul'? TheVr"" ''"'='"'"» "'»iV«88ins.',uiUe;i filKaTe^^e 
 Sra^rbliol LTrhTl^ "^ '"""f* <^"'«»P<'"'<s "i'h coitemporfry 
 uracriplion, and the portrait is in other respects an authentic likeness. 
 
 t.^'STV'"".'^;?; "'^"^■""= y«»' '76». «ther at Piowa, on a"X- 
 1^.^ on^h?'?*' ,"'^' u**"'^'' °' " ChilicothS, anotker old InS 
 village on the Scioto, m what is now the Slate of Ohio. His father 
 wastilled at the battle of Kanawha, where, on the l«h October. ,77! 
 Lord Dunmore;s forces defeated the celebrated Chief ComsWk Hb 
 mother was a Oierokee woman, and is said to have been de' viredrf 
 
 ^r^™;^/!,'"?^"' °"'',° ""'"^ b^lh^wthesametlme Sm 
 seh became celebrated m early manhood for hU exploits acainst whit. 
 
 Z'^^'' °" *'?'■?• "■•*"" '°8»8«i i" «St eveTs.4Se of 
 his people against the Americans down to the day of his death^ Fn 
 
 Cr^™ T^'^'^ '?' •*>.= defence of his race, Kd not 2v!v unSi 
 ong al4er the usual period, and then only as a matter of poli" and in 
 deference o Oie urgent desire of his friends. His genSs w« fim 
 
 oF^Wa'^^"? 'k'"'^ ^ «'?"'■> l^^fers known^Lthe T^eauS 
 01 Fort Wajme, whereby an extensive region on the Ohio running un 
 oneofitsmbutaries, the Wabash, on bSh sides, for agr^aTdSa 
 was ceded to the whites. These treaties, made b^ aJle^d^eswS 
 Indians or village chiefs, as they w^r^ called, meanTof couS: dfa 
 SSnl'r"™,^' °f tribesf wi,..,e war dlieftd e^ld tj^'thd 
 
 orevenMh ^~""^'' ^ f°"=?«n that nothing but combinktion coSd 
 prevenl the ™cro«*ments of the whites uponlie Ohio, and had tei^ 
 
Note* to Tecumaeh 253 
 
 imSiJ!!!??*''!^' ""'ejvouring to tiring (bout > union of the tribei who 
 hb^^ .dl*- ^ ^"^ ^"J?" "«"'" e»« « wider kToc ,0 
 uiS;Jii-,' T "*'"""' ?"u.«^t Kffemeof.fedenitUor 
 me enbre ted race. In pursuance of this oWect his exertions, hitherto 
 
 l^t-Z";*^"' •'""5' •"?«''•"">«"• He n«de rep«™jou™«s 
 and visited almost every irtbe Son. the Gulf of Mexico to tie S 
 
 In order to further hu scheme he took advanta(;c of his brother's ™w 
 ng renuution a, a prophet, and allowed him t t-ain a J^werfulToTd 
 
 - ,.Ir JT*"..' r'"^ '° '"'" "'"°i""' f™ the Gjeat 
 
 naCtC bowl, which nfKW«B«I nii»^i.l»». «..-i;.: i__ 
 
 Spnt a_^maglc bowl, whlcli possessed miraculous qualities; also »*«' 
 Niinabush, the keeperof the sacred fire. He 
 
 . saicl >n mabn >kn..~ :>. I 11 I . . . 
 
 tic torch, presumably from i>iii,aousn, ine keeperof the sacred fire He 
 
 h whil.. irTu- ;; T "■ ^"' ■" ■"""= ""** '""ilnerable who touched 
 hisBeh »^H.^"fc*"""!"P°,'^ "'^"^"^ *''''•' had grown from 
 hu Hesh , and thui belt was circulated far and wide by Indiin runners 
 
 SSi^i^^f^ '""■ '° "" '*•"' *""' °f "■' "»«>-■ These, ™ouS 
 wut^hWdSflT"""""' «"•">■ '"'■'"<^«' " influence wfiich 
 ^tJr'^K.ti?^ 5'' *'"""".",%"'""'="""«• """ie more forbid- 
 ^Z tt,r ""'^^ Unfortunately for Tecumseh's enter- 
 .K If ^?^^' ""I """"^ l^"' "P"" Pt'sonal notoriety than upon 
 
 ambition, in Tecumseh's absence, by a precipitate attack upon Harri 
 son s force on the Tippecanoe. His'dc&t Jiscr^ti? his SLumpUon 
 
 SSlT^i /"" °f ("dependent action. But the protection of his 
 K^n,^^ T?''\"''T?"™' ""'• '"" «»l«n>an that he w«! 
 he joined General Brock at Amherslburg (Fort Maiden), in Upoer Can 
 ada, with a lar« force, and In the sumtSer of ,812 b^an thaf «riefSf 
 
 w^'Scal^.l"'^'' '?'"« "h-h ^^' his^meahoSoId 
 wort m Canada and endeared him to the Canadian heart. As Colonel 
 Coffin says, in his "Chronicles of the War of l8n," "His death sheds 
 a ha^o on a much-abused and fastKiepartii» race. May theleipre of 
 England, and their descend^iu in Sna£, never foLt tfiTK 
 wcnfice, or the sacred obligation it imposes. It should 1» held as the 
 seal of a great covenant : ' And Jonathan said to David, The Lord be 
 betweenthee and me, and between my seed and thy .;4 forwr ' " 
 nl.^"^''.^ ?'^-^"°'"*''.""" '"'=»'='* "»= «iret of hU burial 
 Sf ^ f t ,*°"u 'T?"l'.'°' "■»">■ >^"' »">- »«™p' '<• explore 
 wS\^^ i '"' ^"^'J°' *"'' ^'"- " ^ no' 'i>«i'y that his feuB 
 wUl ever be recovered: but to Canadians, whose fathers were the 
 friends of his race, there remains the duty of perpetuating his memoiv 
 ZSriSti""' '" '^ " """" =»™^« of truTmanh^rd 
 
»S4 
 
 Notes to Tecumseh 
 
 NMc J. Page la. 
 
 Note 3. Pages 12,13, 
 
 Ourfrmt/ulml-yca, ram it down licit Hr«U!, 
 And choke thtni with the very dirt they love " 
 
Notes to Tecumseh 
 
 Note 4. Fige 13. 
 
 Tk., / J .'"'^ Pfp/uti rot,, 
 
 rial I aiMmeJ witM tU Pntutga dftj!" 
 
 »ss 
 
 Udgeoflhc ProX?, XS Tl, I "' 5" '""'-•'■e inv«i.ble 
 
 to«.rciKmorebcnelicen< function, Sm Ui^^fTh^M^S.^^ir' 
 and to um at the moral elevation of their wTnlf Vk *'«*""••"»«•. 
 on the other hand. i> a iiml,, .nrf 1. P! ^ v ^° Medicine-man, 
 areapu^le to .1^2 ™lS ,^1 fSJS L*''"" '"V"^ ^'^"f^ 
 with Evil SpiritJi. Temm,L.k'. f. ^^ "." """ *''° •"» dealing, 
 l'eng.«», (TeThanJeTf^'',K'eSr;'?,„''^''>" ™<'';«1 '<> s»cc^ 
 
 (bnctioiu of a nusictan he m™Ai^ 1 IT "' ■ ^' """"^ ■''"''"<^' 
 
 Note 5. Page 14. 
 " OU Skalarmra's gnvt 
 
 bHb. TeTur^ho wr.^"„.:c™,a^™Vfr„^.'"«"6 '"--«'. 
 
 Note 6. Page 16. 
 
 " Of Umg-KM/e firts. emampmM,!,. md Iktir ckitf,.'' 
 
 " Tktn he dahrid kt mas a Sttgamsk " 
 
 W-^ofr 'S„'ife"7™m'",r' "'^ ^te""""'" '»- "'""- 
 
 a^-™!;s;^-ri:«si^»^^"^^^^^^^^ = • 
 
 example, called the Enriishrnan Sl£!, tJ a?^*"""*'- •"' 
 
»s« 
 
 NotM to Tccumaeb 
 
 Note 7. |>^^ ,,. 
 
 S^ darned of SSi'lin'ta iTuX^'^Jr^ ,•"■* "» ^'"i'"' 
 power, uid of coming In m'ib .SLlS,*™,'"*!' »f •» indc|>.„<lmt 
 
 No«. «. p»ge 17. 
 
 W'yne in h» campaign aeainu the InJi!^ •"'"■••d'-aimp to General 
 •P|x.inted Governor Xnewlv fo™^ T ■•"»*• •"'''" '*" «" 
 'tgion which, txtendinc from th?rihi 7^t ' w"^ lerriloiy, , vmi 
 ■h.1 lime but ih,ee .mSll^ilLm f 't? *'««ippi, cmiined^t 
 French V lly of Vin«„„^"'5^S"; "f"""" ."■"^Wuding ihToW 
 inbetofl^uy,., nwnvofwho^„,S,*".'"'»«'«l b»?.mero„. 
 "^had on ,hc prinipal «lrei,,^ cSdemhl ''.F"'*^ °"''"n'«. 
 nrfe log cabin, but litSe inferio)^,o?tfi »%'""«"'• ^Misting of 
 The deMreojon „f thoe tow™. .. ,1. ^ "' "" "''r while Mtifen 
 ^Ih. aboriginal i-'><Z^:7M,rSlZ"'r. """■■ '■"" "« "«'"'™i 
 WJ«» Suio, i, one of the daJt ^™' "°*,™'«''"tin£ numerou. 
 the irredatible tide of whites »uJ^ (^"^'if " '" "»""5'- Vear by ye^ 
 volume , and though H. rit,r.^ "'"/i" '""""ym cver-inc^^' 
 ■nedilaied nolhingliut kind^ndiZ?, .""""', ""'' R™"o»« niiure 
 
 rewrain the lapadous adventure™ »!,„ P"™'''y. yet nothing could 
 "Xi looked uJoTlndtan t™"« .« ^ "^ '•■'niKlve, eveijwhere. 
 JPPOjed >l>mgn«,pi„gJ™\'^ "»""■•«•■ w^tc paper. ?„"ii'5 
 
 H«™np„li,iSiU?,i«X'.id^he^Lrf"''' ^" *""«•" "l»n 
 pMted compelled to wink «Z:?.S 1„H f°"'." ""^ "* '^™ &' 
 ™der UK .pecioo, „„„ „f progS^wJl^ 'V^"?'" "« -ft'" veiled 
 wonhtm great repute, and wa?tr orecL^ r .l:'""''' "" Tippecanoe 
 "Sequent victory, with a Krai Iv ,S r ""= *" »' 'Sir^Hi. 
 IVoctorattheMomvianTow'-n Mt^abE;- f"*' ""'" Tecum«h and 
 n«n. He Aortly afterward, iSnJS^ *"' '""". 'f"™!!" •-» country. 
 hS^ "-eattnen, it the hani'Slhr^S^e?^™'"?^"' '"'«"''«" *S' 
 bis fcnn at North Bend, on the Ohio „W,^ "'^^"j '"'' "'ired >» 
 Ae Preaidency of the United Sttta. He dIS 3 '*?' "" *" """I •" 
 Amenc«, people, shortly after hi,Tn.„^ra*^„."'''P''' "^"^ ^ "«= 
 
 *""' 9- Page 17. 
 
Notes to Tecumsoh 
 
 No«e la I^ aj. 
 " FinI itmti hU fwnur, Ikt ha." 
 
 »57 
 
 aJIIL! ?tf • •*" '" n*'"™' hi'lwy. >1>«1 Ihc wild bM hT b«n in 
 AiKriM tlK pioiiMr of lh« while num. lu fint appr., , ■ " ih" 
 SMfcltehewm t> witUn ihe mcmoiy of men Kill idive 
 
 Note II. Pkge33, 
 " Hii/mtrs, kl, nry wadi, iUpbue o 
 The Eniopnn flower, and weeds are umrpinc , N, . , J ;,, ., ,1, 
 genou. (Ion. of North America. The while ilo.r. .,r,i,>k »V. 
 
 11 1, iaul. forlv yearn ago had onlv reached the o • jl . .' V, Mi ,>. " 
 KU, u now found hundreds of miles farther lo ,rt|, ,. 
 
 Note la. Page >6. 
 
 "SolhalyourcaUHjImii mlh umiglet .;.'. r 
 Andkiftcf waplH, and beidtd nia. " 
 
 The mouffle is th« nose of ihe moose, or Americai. . , .-her 
 d^Iie^""'-l^'*"3.' •" ^l"* ""^ '™''" •"■1 J-^llylike. -nd i, a 
 The e^' ""''^ " '^' American red deer, fiquently nmcalled 
 
 Note 13. Page ag. 
 
 " J*'*"/™**'- ■" *"*/**'■ until tkt Itdrt 
 Shook to III base milk itrugglm^. •< 
 
 The performances of the Indian Medicine-raen in their medicine 
 
 te .'"'"'""""' '■"?' """gh to accommodate (il{y people. The 
 .^^ !S™" ™'f" " "'°"=' ""'' Pf^^ntly Iho sounds'^klierc.tion 
 wWeh^li:;.","""''!:"""!,'?"*"',' ""hesol^Bre mut from lhe"X? 
 
 SLl f T' These foits are performed simultaneously, and some- 
 times for prolonged periods. Collusion must l« very adroitly emnlov^ 
 for .n,ell^,^en, halfj^reeds, who have fre,,uently wSS thlTrf™: 
 
 that the genuine Medicine-man possesses extraordinary and «ctU 
 f^S^Xi:^:^^^ ^'""---^ "»— = more-^investiX' 
 
 Note 14. Page 29. 
 A'o/iai round with stars and cicatrized -.minds. " 
 
 „aSi^.'"'n""" °''.""""°li« ,» «>l™n ordeal amongst most Indian 
 nation,. On reaching manhood the candidate prepare himself for hi, 
 trial by a severe and sFeepless fast, lasting save™rda5«. This is followed 
 
»58 
 
 Notes to Tecumseh 
 
 S'lS^w' «'jP<'>».«'«nionies, lifter which thcMimmnt, in Dracnra 
 
 «na oaclt, and from thrae he 13 suspended bv conis and iiim-H ™!S 
 slowly, so „ ,„ p^„,, exerucUtiS^ p.", which mu^h^te^e^A 
 out a murmut to be accounted a ia&aitorv test of ihi ^^/u ■ .' 
 endurance Other trials and ceremonieSI," L^aLd the Jnjfd^^^^^^^^^ 
 he acquits himself heroically throughout, assumed Ihe stotu^of a i™«. 
 
 '^^^ t^"'^ ^f-^ aTi^SSTrfpi-t-^i'tr 
 ?«lc^ ru t'^'!^- '\^^*' ">-= oW Sd young of ^*^ 
 
 te fJr''L^^''c.*L??^'^ii.r::i"ro^l" rfj 
 
 dream ,s considered favourable i if below, the reveree. 
 Note 15. Pages 30 and 33. 
 " And made Iheir hosts a winttr's/taslfor umlvts." 
 
 "And eld /Canauhva, Jamtd when we wm young " 
 
 Jhe'^^Tv^^tTrSVof^li^SrrSS f ""' '" *' "'^""'- "f 
 
 Note 16. Page 32. 
 
 ** Attdwith the peace-pipe siti beside their Jire." 
 
Notes to Tecumseh 259 
 
 Note 17. Page 35. 
 
 " a?'!' """f""' ••" '*' <*"•*, Hi: we fan strike 
 With certeun aim.*^ 
 
 ,JI*'?"S"'"f'Tf,^™'"? ™'""' ^ ">= '"<•'""») «" niade from sev- 
 eral kinds of shells, particularly the mussel, the clam and the conlh 
 P.«es of the thickness of a small cUy pi^.stem, and "bouTha™ an 
 
 L„H «™ '*^"' *"' *'"' B"" '*'»"'• ™' f"™ the =namel, perf™ted? 
 and strung on sinews, so as to form belts. These, accoXg to Sh^J 
 adjustrnent and colour were tribal records or-the symbols of ^ace or 
 
 Trrf H;<,iHlJ'^" 'i™""? sutetituted porcelain for the shell mtnpum 
 
 Red Indians as money. It has long been disused. ■«». "y uic 
 
 Note t8. Page 37. 
 
 " Yeu've heerd o' them Delaware Maraviam, mrely !" 
 
 T>I'rtii"i''''.'"1^t"''''"''^ '" "■'* V^^^ « "" historical fact. 
 oJ^^lSfd,«?h.M*"'^r'''"Vf'"P^^' »"" '" possession of 
 their lands at the Moravian Towns, Ontario, and are still AresMed over 
 by a Moravian missionarj-. ^ cimcu over 
 
 Note 19. Page 41. 
 " Gold is the king who overrides llie right, " 
 rf Jrll! a"" "^ ?' "'oVShtful people of the United Slates, feel 
 feile^™ h"',"/ '1™''°' '" "^^ '""'■""' °f ""e Indian... iS «e 
 Mre. Helen Hunt Jackson wrote a most powerful appeal in their favour 
 and entitled it "A Centum, of Dishonor."^ Bishop WtopIerofMhlne: 
 spta, in Je prefice he contributed to the work, says : "ttesSl revela- 
 tion of brofcn faith, of violated treaties, aid of inhuman dJSs of 
 tllelr'^unTr^."''""*'' ""''■ "' *™' '° "" '^''"''^ "f tC wtofove 
 Note 20. Page 41. 
 
 " But look It him ! Look at Tecumseh there— 
 Herat simple in attire i " 
 
 cl^^^ had hazel e)-«, an aquiline nose, and a somewhat oval 
 WroPTIfi"! "t7,"j; T' Colonel Coffin ("Chronicles of the 
 knit, active figure. Contrary to , '^dian natnre,le had an aversion 
 to external ornament. His invana.,.>. costume wi the deer skin"™ 
 and fringed pintaloons. Indian moccasins on his feet, and an eS^ 
 feather, completed hi.s simple and soldierly accoutrements." The^e- 
 ^'."mSn S",r^!i;'"!'^ °=-?™"" '«" '''' "-"^ '""^ Colonel Glegg, of 
 ™, S ri. ","«• ^^"t'■'• '^™'™' Block's aide, and Colonel ffiTtch, 
 one of General Hull's officers at the surrender of Detroit 
 
a6o Notes to Tecumseh 
 
 Note »l. Page 48. 
 
 X "ff^'i ^""'P^ ' /""/ "' ^im in his titmuk to tat 
 nts tnhn iap o passion dnm,^'' 
 
 In making maple sugar the settler suspends a piece of fat bacon on a 
 stnng over the cauldron to preirent the sap from boiling over. The 
 Indians use a spiiy of the balsam spruce for the same purpose. 
 
 Note 22. Page 57. 
 
 " Myfiar sits Ulx the partridge in the tree, 
 Andcanmlfly whilst these dogs bark at me." 
 
 Settlers in the backwoods of Canada train their dngs to flush the 
 ruffled grouse, miscalled the " partridge." The bird.s uice refuge in a 
 tree, at whose root the dug.s keep up an incessant yelping, which seems 
 to puzzle them, so that Ihey stick to their perches and become an easy 
 prey, m order to secure them all, they must be shot successively from 
 the lowest bird upwards. 
 
 Note 23. Page 58. 
 
 " Eaeh coulee and ravine, " 
 
 In western America certain prairie water-courses are called coulees. 
 The melted snow, etc., is carried oH^ by Ihem in spring, but in suroi.i<T 
 and winter they are generally quite dry. 
 
 Note 24. Page 6a 
 
 ^*ffarkt ^ Tis the T^Hsr-sotig," 
 
 Ye-awe I hi, ya ! whe, ya wha ! a-aa-a-a, whe, ya wha ! a-a-aa-n. 
 
 The foregoing chant, which is taken from Peter Dooyentate Clarke's 
 " Ongln and Traditional Histoiy of the Wyandots," is substantially the 
 same as that now in use by the Indian trilies in the British North-West 
 Temtories and elsewhere. The chant, which to the uninstructed 
 on-looker appears to be mere gibljerish, is an invocation to the Great 
 Sp'nt— the changes being rung upon the sacred syllables, yo and jiM/i. 
 Yo-he-wah is the Indian's sacred name for the Deily. The sacred 
 syllables enter into the con.struclion of many words applicable to the 
 Deity, such as power, light, goiidness, etc., and those who tliink the 
 Indians descendants of the Lost Ten Tribes connect the Indian word 
 with the Jewish Jehovah. The warriors begin Ihe chant in a high key, 
 the voice gradually falling until the .sounds are almost indistinct, then 
 swelling up 10 full pitch again, .^t intervals Ihe chanl is interrupted 
 by war-whoops. 
 
Notes to Tectunseh 261 
 
 Noli; 25. Page 64. 
 " Go bring the brattes to view the Mystic Torch 
 And belt of Sacred Beam gnmnfrom my^esh." 
 Set Note I conceming the above and the Prophet's Magic Bowl. 
 
 Note 26. Page 67. 
 
 '* Go to the corn-dance, change your name to viilain!" 
 
 The corn-dance is held in the middle of August. Children arc 
 named at it, and warriors can then change their names if they choose. 
 
 Note 27. Page 69. 
 MAJOR tlENERAI. BROCK. 
 
 This distinguished soldier was born in Guernsey, in I76«— ihe vear 
 which jave Sapoleon and Wellington to the worl- AWhe aJe of 
 fifteen he entered the Bril.sh Army as an ensign, and at Iwenty^ight 
 became Leutenanl.colonel of the .,9th Regiment. He served in Hilland 
 and was wounded at the battle of Egniont-op-Ze-, and subsequent^ 
 
 S^LC^f ";/'"'"'' "■"" CoP'-H'^i^^condinc^limand 
 
 of the land forces He was sent to Canada in the spring of 1802, and 
 after nine years of valuable service, was ad%-anced to the rank of Maior- 
 General, and stationed in the upper Province, where, Lieutenint- 
 boven.or Gore having gone 10 England on leave of absence, he suc- 
 ceeded him as Adrninistrator of the Government of Upper Canada in 
 October, IS,. He had been for some time negotiating for aTliTsfL, 
 to We lington's command m the Peninsula ; but the breaking out of the 
 war with the United States in •812 chafge,! all his plans, aKi^ for 
 tunate union of offices gave him control o? the civil and military aflairs 
 of the Province at the most critical peri™! i„ it, history. Boldness 
 energy- and decision characterized his ever) movement, infiised enlhns: 
 iMm into the loyal, confirmed the wavering, and overawed the dis- 
 affected ; and p prompt and speedv were his operations, that in 
 eighteen days from his departure with his force from York (row Tor- 
 onto), he had conquered Michigan Territory, provided for iu government 
 and returned to } ort George His intention when he left DelroTwito 
 proceed immediately to Sacketfs Harbour on Lake Ontario, and destroy 
 the Ainencan mival "rsena! there To his mortification he found that Z 
 armistice had been proposed by Sir George P-evosl, and consented to by 
 the American General, Dearborn, the intelligence of which onlv reached 
 him on his way down Lake Erie. In all likelihood he would have 
 succeeded at Sacke.t's Harbour, and so prevented the Americans fi^rn 
 
 ^"ffi".S. • "'■"''' ^™ "■"" "«^ command of Lake Ontario, and 
 
 enabled them twice 10 capture the capital of Upper Canada St4n»,. 
 to say, after Brock's death this unfor.unate aSice w^ ca,^gy 
 
a62 
 
 "otes to Teeumaeli 
 
 fleelat I're^u'Is.ef.^S'Sii'.;^^"^^"^:,'^™^!^ .„™„ip .fcelr 
 
 derance upon the lake was <lread«l h7B,»-l, wh """ P"P°"- 
 
 ever, were paralvied Iw ih/T™.-^ '.*''°^"""'«'"™<». how- 
 
 Com™„derrSlirf S on'e'o ^"1^^ CU' r""'^. <" "» 
 "The enemy U makini! every e,^ii„ , ■ °" 9«"g<!. he say,: 
 both lakes. whfcUf thfy SnS I ^o SH" ' ""."' "'1*™"'^ ™ 
 the country. . . I slM^S^^ ' Me how we can retain 
 
 world, and.tte^^ther«SSTn wEi.h t.^ ' " °"^ "' "- *"«' '" ">e 
 
 done,.. Who fell in the ^e^-lSrresrjd^'^r^fe M' J^n^ 
 
 Note ag. Page 69. 
 
 " /fu/rs thrialemi ravage cfcur wesim, cmt." 
 
 preMntinnumeroSut°I«,a„dSer ,h! r^l'li^'™'=^ „«'*«' 
 customs. When well adv^JSi i^ „~!.^ becaine a collector of 
 Michigan Territory, and SI^s/'^.^'-.Tk'""^' ^'""'>' "' 
 in Washington in the wint« of ,S„ Xf? ' """ * ""^'=- "•= 
 
 e«rl,i"i!!f'i?'»''.^f "-^ War oTrsTv'iote toC: rf-'-cT 
 
 em Hull had been subject to much annoyance fromlfe Ohto vSun 
 
 Tfcf V '. ■ l ""^^ ""•= frequently quite insuborditite " 
 
 .1 ITnfjJ^Sn '^^fh'll-ru^i^ 'f ■ w''a"mlS"^^"T 'if"" 
 
 upon Canada, which the general oppos^'lu? tEe "ar3'of tS;! 
 
Notes to Tecumseh 
 
 263 
 
 tions from Washington. These having at lost reached him, he issued a 
 boastful and threatening proclamation to the wople of Canada (thy 
 compoaition of which has been attributed to Cass), and crossed the 
 Detroit on the 12th July, 1812, but retreated on the 8th of August 
 following. General Brock reached Sandwich, nearly opposite I>etroit, 
 on the 15th, and, in conjunction with Tecumseh, quickly matured his 
 scheme of attacking Fort Detroit. The next day Hull capitulated to a 
 force greatly inferior in numbers, and consisting mainly of Canadian 
 volunteers and Indians. He was subsequently tried by court-martial at 
 Albany, N.V., in lanuary, 1814, and sentenced to be shot. "Mr. 
 Madison pardoned him," says Lossing, "and he returned to his farm 
 to live in comparative obscurity, under a cloud of almost universal 
 reproach.** Dispassionate criticism has since to a lai^e extent justified 
 Hull in his conduct. 
 
 Note 29. Page 69. 
 
 " Bid Colonel Proctor come.^* 
 
 It may be thought that the traits of this officer have been too strongly 
 sh^ed m the drama. There can be no doubt that his retreat from 
 AnUierstbui^ had its justifiable and prudential side, and what a more 
 daring General, Brock for instance, would have done under the circum- 
 sUnces, one can only conjecture. But General Proctor, by basely cast- 
 ing the blame of the disaster at the Moravian Town upon his troops, 
 weaned from himself all sympathy. He is still held m poor remem- 
 brance in Canada. The General Order of the Prince Regent confirm- 
 ing the court-martial held at Montreal in December, 1814, and ordered 
 to be read at the head of every regiment in His Majesty's service, con- 
 cludes thus: "His Royal Highness has directed the general officer 
 commanding in Canada, to convey to Major-General Proctor His Royal 
 Highness's high disapprobation of his conduct ; tM;ether with the 
 expression of His Royal Highness's regret that any o^r of the length 
 of service and the exalted rank he has attained, should be so extremely 
 wanting in that professional knowledge, and deficient in those active, 
 energetic qualities which must be required of every officer, but especially 
 of one in the responsible situation in which the Major-General was 
 pUced." 
 
 Note 30. Page 74. 
 
 " Enter two U. E. Loyalists, separately." 
 
 On the revolt of the American colonies, ii 1776, a larce number of 
 the colonists remained loyal to the Crown, and fought under the British 
 colours for the maintenance of a Unite<i Empire. They were known as 
 the United Empire Loyalists. At the close of the war these loyalists, 
 driven from their homes, came to the wilderness of Canada, where, 
 under severe hardships and trials, they carved new homes in the forest, 
 
264 
 
 Notes to Tecumaeb 
 
 more the unity of the Empire h \^ thT'l- . ••-" '"'' ""^ 
 o pubhc feeling in UppJ Canada i^lg,, "rr"'!,"!*' «"'= '°"= 
 tamed out to light for (SiMdaTl.?,. bm th, „i7 ' "I"''' P"P"l»l"™ 
 tlie children were left at home in ihe lnn°^ "!'"'■"■= *°"'™- ""<1 
 mstance, are recorded of tenSy-nunurrf iL' '""T" ""^ "™/ 
 were at the front, being left w"h the Hnl L"?J"' "^°^ hushanA 
 jelve,. as best they could agaiTst 'he wo I ^l^" '° ?"'=« them, 
 howled a™„„d th^ log cablSf^nhe^'eariy Slet " *" """= ■"*'" 
 
 Note 31. Page 75. 
 Colmel NichoL 
 
 47b,'l"'^js.-s ?r.:n"dt;rh? R^erR^-T'-'rH" t-^'-" «-"•<■ 
 
 clergyman, wrote to the autho in i^J' fol Ilf*'"^'"' ■ ^" Ans"™ 
 subseouent letter, slated that hi. ^ri^J .[ ,'"'°™""'™' ""•. m a 
 trusted by his uncle7fob«? N^hoHn t' m' ? '^'*''. "^ '^■' ™" 
 officer who was in this con^trv m„ ' " *•"'" Lundie, an Enalish 
 history of the war of X "^ ?^,"''S "fi-, ""'' S''".'""' '" ""^ a 
 ppers,.»feras ih.. author knowl fe '" E"Bland, and the 
 
 lost, it is a grave misfonuiie to <T„»rf- w"°' ^" *«" ««"ered. If 
 General BrS^k's r™h, h^d H^^tt"" '"'""'y- Colonel Nichol wi 
 of the inner side of affata during "Penence was great ; his knowledl^ 
 of chaiacter seldom at fault GeL^ IZ^T^. •■" discemS 
 recognised his singular ab ty tSk^i^^l^' *'"'.,'=^?'-' *■= ™r had 
 perhaps the most ImpoZ.^^.^^nd'^.S'Ti""' ^''^ S^ B»« «" 
 per^ton from the liiperial Go^^en whenT' "^ "^"'^ « 
 becameamemberof the Upper cZTr™^!., "J' ""''«'• "^ 
 was characterized by scrupuloM intSriTv »„?^ '!"=■ *''""-' •>« '^'^' 
 ence of character. He l™t hU HfX^rf "^ °" °'"'°" "Uramdepend. 
 uous night over the clirnraVNt^^rapX''" a" ''"''"'' '''»^'- 
 certatnly be erected to this able loS's memorv f""!"?""^' should 
 Canada were vital. loyaust s memory, for hhs services to 
 
 Note 32. Page 77. 
 
 Brock. The Lower House Xh^.e^L^";?' '° ^ «'.'')' General 
 unprotected condition of Upper C^^Tn ^ "".'''=■ '^"'""i "nd 
 la;ned numbers of disaffected membS?T„rt,?^ "' h'=^'> « Kt con- 
 who aUowed themselves irbTswavS' ^"l""^?" '™'<' and hesitating, 
 ahens. domiciled in the ProvincTS^lJa^S; p^'^ Yhe'l^ 
 
Notes to Tecumatii 
 
 265 
 
 Iil,^f".'';S',h""" '■■"8,™''""? additional fears and dcpondenc, for a 
 
 Note 33. Pages 89, 9a 
 
 - .^^ ,,^ . " Him those giant pears 
 
 fMmmlk upltfled and kigh-aneient heads, 
 l^e forest trees ! A hundred years ago 
 They, like their owner, had Ihtir roots in Frame.' 
 
 rJml.'fiT'"'''' °^'' ''""?l! >*" "«»• ™« Pl^'if"' "long the 
 J^wn h:?w .' "' """ '~P"">' decaying. The ^nual rings of one 
 
 J^ 52." .^ ""'," ■""" ""^ ■«"=" P'"n'"i by the French colonists who 
 founded the settlement of Detroit under de li Mothe cSdiC, S imi 
 They are of immense size and are prodigious bearer, ; but?Vt^"to 
 say, cannot be propagated, and before nTany years will become minct? 
 
 Note 34. I'age 90. 
 
 " That hospitable root 
 Oflhtne, thou good old loyalist, Baty." 
 
 ThT'^.ii;,"/"-!'*, °'"' ^^y/^"", at Sandwich, is still standing. 
 The Baby fainUy (pronounced Daw-bee), which ever since the coimuS 
 hjts been d,stm^iAed for its loyalty to the British cro^ s on?oTthe 
 
 H.J5 «"^ t-"'™'! tlK! Hon. James Baby, a son of the Baby who ren- 
 dered such v^uable assistance to Major Gladwyn durini PontS's 
 .nv«tment of Detroit inl763. Colonel Baby wIrborr.7lSn„ 
 iWh H ™'" '\= *""t''f 'h= Thames; and was taken^»„ej 
 d«»LS ?"™°"' *'"'^■"' S" '° Chilicoth^, in Ohio, where "hTwS 
 detained for many months. His hospitality and kindness of heart were 
 ^crhTdSi'', v' W*^' "^ "ft" many years of active puWc ^r 
 vice, he ded at York (now Toronto), in 1833. '" "rly life Colonel 
 Itaby was largely engjged in the fur tn«ie-lKe enfrossiL occu™^i"n 
 
 S^lSei ^r,"*' ^°^"ded jpon which the beaver-paek, 
 
 bvGeneSl b;».J X-' J^ '" "^ 'T«.°' '*"= >«" *" °««P*S 
 bj (.eneral B»ck as his headquarters, anS there he wrote his demVnd 
 
 f^r the surrender of DeB«,t General B^rison subsequently m«i^ 
 n« Wa?U.:i r ' '"'"*■ V^ '"}' ^"^ ^" succei[?e!y ente^Jel 
 "ration ^"""""^ "f Canada fro« » early date doJn to Confed- 
 
 *>te35. ^e90. 
 " OA, ha^ f eaten of Ha Sfiritplant ! " 
 
 SnwLtam ""uV" '^"'^ ^^ "* ■'"""'"' 'Vanilou-o-sia-tasi, or the 
 hpinl-ptant. It has intoxicating or deadly qualities. 
 
aM 
 
 Notes to Tecumteb 
 
 Note 36. Page9s. 
 ■wemble .nrf .T" '^.}iV f. 5"f???V"y nieellng.ptace. where ih™ 
 
 their varioiu localities i r...t^».._ ? "-jon. ine birds 
 
 «njnl*r exerciie thai »»» ■ 
 
 . -"-/ ""V" ucujine Ml rant tn their 
 
 ■M be .pp««hed „ite clo«iril,hS[ 
 < ■•« 37. Page loi. 
 "iSBwa.. '^ytiuob-talulhemjnmafrund." 
 
 w« present wfcnthe ^toU w.™^ .2°"''°.'"i''' ^l^ B.by 
 for. Gutter i«ident! S^T^ l^lf^ic'Ct j!' " "" »°"«'"'' 
 
 Note 38. Page 103. 
 " Wt ktardlht cnsk of baak yesUrday " 
 
 tenSS^r.^^Jfj^^'refiTn ati "'"/"'■•"B.y, on ,oU, Sep- 
 sounds of the enXment«redi«i,^H'i '"i "".Am"*'*"- Tfc 
 miles away. 8>«ement were disunclly lieard at Amheistbnrg, rixty 
 
 Note 39. Pages 104, 105. 
 
 "A/oolwh, ttats Skaff^ifallyat Ike gamt" 
 
 Wh. wouUn^l/aciymnelf, ,c fact fax lk<msmdr 
 
 .^r' ■J':^"""^. '??"»u»2; to H. M'for^"a,' Amh"mburg during 
 
 t'L' wL'-X ife^^Lt r;*".?„„'l;!, Co'onel ColBn-s "aiS,rj;"3 
 resulted in a Sle^e pSh? ,^^""k,^"'°'? ■'"'' ^"^°' "W* 
 justified him in refS to r^°, 'IT"?'; ' 1^''™ " "-mander 
 
 justified him In refusinc to no out " "ThTXn' •""""" «» oommandei 
 iearted ...ack upon^r^ llelT'in AprillTs '^' tT? T "^ *» half, 
 retreat, which wk strongly reSnt^ b? T„ fmilf .."S ■'gP?"''™ "> 
 the latter, " has broughfi hS" ,7 tak.^rf^^ ..°°J ^*"' ^"l 
 it ? If his children ^'t do it civ- ,7!,^?, " ', "''>' ''°" ' *= '»'"= 
 beavers ; we'll e« aw in for^H,; ° P^'"' f""* *« ""' *"'' "^e 
 oftactr«ctedir«Ud^«tioS. "k. J^'""" ? ™Sll«'ion and want 
 
 long.continued'ou,posXra^e>ciir"^.Ti ^^J"!""^ '''' 
 d«n volunteer n,ihS Udl5;.-nfysX;;Sids. "l^r^e^-LSt; 
 
Notes to Tecunueh 
 
 267 
 
 rwrtfcUy to uk l«ve to go home, only to put in . crop for iS m« 
 Ekw rii?SS^ .^r- ''°' •'«y "o" W not be divMed, bec,« th.' 
 
 iSXih^fl k'' ""' W"". f" .'.'" -"•"• ""* o"«' ■""■ "oved him, 
 uidfogehtror him, and died for liim." 
 
 Rlv.l^™f° ij S?" "V'?»'^= of prisoners by the Indian. .1 the Raisin 
 
 f?i^i^ u "0<:'°'. ""y be madeTiere. After the surrender of 
 Ceneral Wmchester to i>roctor in the affiiir « the former^IS. a 
 K^™"?* 'i;' "*?■"? *" «i™ncing rapidly with a lar^fa^e 
 Proctor, alarmed at this, beat a needlesjy precipitate reti^Tln^ 
 rlrf *■«; """"r"*!: °' f"""^ ;™oners but hi, own woundri"^ 
 diad. Some of the pnsoners , ■ e murdered by loose and disorderly 
 IndMns who had got at liquor and were drunk, and are sa,"d noUo liye 
 been m the action at a1 . At .k- m: — ; „_ c'_ «. . *''~^."w *" ""/c 
 
 been in the .c.ion"at .11. \t .heMUmi,";;>"o,t-"MelSXri'^ri;;j 
 capture of an escort, in which Proctor hag 
 
 b^^^^h'^'t,'t\*' ^P*"" ■" ■" '«^"' •" »«"=» Proctor has 
 been much blatned by Americans for non-interference, ..lulst TecumS^ 
 
 i*^^ oMh^"':^^'"' '°rP""i"S «" ™<1 'o Ihe nuusacre by taT 
 i^Zn^,^ L'T'T"'!'""' *"' °"" "«• Cold-blooded de^ were 
 common to both sides, however, at this period, though too many 
 Amencan historians attnbute them solely to the Indians. ' 
 
 Note 4a Page III. 
 "JTenmal Ytiimal Tht Gmi Spirit nmes ! " 
 
 InS^r- " 1 ' ^'reh^logia Americana " a description of the 
 
 Indian ceremonial worship of the sun which suggested this JSne. The 
 
 ^ tr'^^fmSSL" "^■"' """ J"' "«'°«'" ^ "« >»<i"Tmpa.We: 
 Note 41. Page 113. 
 
 aid the plumed Stat from sighi,^* 
 
 ™^^J; "^k ^"^ Evening Star is called the "plumVl sUr." It is ^ 
 called the woman's sttr." (See '• SchoolcralS's Legend of O^eo.") 
 
 Note 42. Page 1 14. 
 
 "Oh, cherish her! for she is dear to me 
 As ts the Intercessor to your race." 
 The Indian's Intercessor is Nanabush— the Guardian of the Sacre.1 
 Fire. N.™bush is supposed to be a dialectic name "rthe M^IX 
 
i68 
 
 Notes to Tecuimeh 
 
 t 
 
 Note4j. I>ageM4. 
 " Vtifir Us »iu*nim—pm coil il Ikml." 
 
 Yourg^kmd tip, shrn ml kalf ,„ mil." 
 
 Among the nnmeroM naliom who contritaled saomn >o T_^_„i.- 
 
 force were the D.hcou« or Sioux, of ihe W^n^fi^ ? If^Sf? * 
 
 cut o», of "^iSi wherewTthe Lu!'^ ?*,,'**°'!» ">'««''' » 
 turned up and drawn in am.m!t ;. i "'P' "•." ™«" "' IM sole bong 
 way. f'4""''rwn".rrhi2w.y^r dent's frJm'T""' "T 
 
 Note 44. Page 116. 
 "Allgmut allgnu! naught ktre but smiking ruins •" 
 
 ^^^SJ:^:^^^^^-^ ^^^' »<• .■» public 
 
 Note 45. Page 133. 
 " Ah ! this is eur own tret.*^ 
 
 owS"tr«!"'" '""^ ™™" •■" "« »°8" ""P'' » »'»..«■**, "our 
 
 Note 46. 
 
 An additiimal note re Gnural Proclar. 
 
 » It,?™' ^""' *"" "" P"''''°«ion of the first edition of " Tecumseh " 
 
Note* to TecuniMh 
 
 »«9 
 
 the SukuehewHi. The point raiwd by " HiMoricu" wu whuhw ii 
 
 ttjdiUoii u to GeiKiml Proctor's condoct, >lill citanl opon thTDamii 
 
 ^«« «,;'"'T„"!'*^".r'!''' '"'', '^''"- A. . 'S Mi^^h 
 mnewer »y>, To m up the incomplele record, of the put UEainit 
 
 ™S^i,'r ^' J. •^"t'P? "h" «»'h"r is nslray in hU notion of what 
 »o.t«n „ cow„d.ce , for if . wldier'. running away ., ,he uSnnhw 
 
 ffi R^^r'l ^ K- Tk'""^ '"""■'"* '"' "■' information of .!„ 
 .«^l5!^— *'■"'' "^ """ ««" "« 'Wh'. but which the 
 ??. ^ pciini«uon to lue, contain, the followii J^pawaee : 
 
 „™,2ll.i? .?!.'' ^f*"^^'- '»". ' I'ft AmhcwiWTor the he«|. 
 2Sf dirt ^ ^""l ^" °'"="'' ''"^''' ''"'' ""'"g "> ""mnmr 
 
 »«^f .1^" ""'"'^ '° !"% " "'"fidential report on the ,tate of iSt 
 p«t of the country to the Genclal (Brock), which I ,lid, and amonc 
 other thmp felt .t my duly to Uale Kveral strong rea«,„, which h^ r^ 
 opmon. total^ di«,|.alified General Proctor fof «. im^nant 'a ^'^ 
 mand. The General, on perusing my report, was pleJSd to exoreis 
 
 I had Ulcen of the subject, and added, respecting GeneiS Proc oj uSt 
 he wa. fully aware of all I had suted, conduding in iEmc S ■ I 
 *™ .*"■" " i*"*7' "T- "" •*'««= he will figSt, but T f.^T will 
 ^.^tt^"'uT ^' "^ "yWngtodo: butThSve no 
 other officer to send.' His fear, were, alas 1 prophetic i and the rain 
 of our aRiur> to the westward was the consequence" 
 i^'Sr ' "S*"'™ of '"""or "M formed in a time of peace, and there- 
 a great emergency. Down to the Commander's death Proctor's e«n, 
 
 l^n^^io^fe""""™ "" ""«"^ '«"'«' '^ "-^ W» -O^iuen; 
 
 aui'hLX' rflf' h' " '"»'?™?^" «Pl>inB to Mrs. Cunmn-one of the 
 he Mvs • ''''™'''"-»"'' refcmng to an extract from •• Tccumseh," 
 
 i, m^ *»'.Rnd even here ouite enough to challenge inquiry. Proctor 
 » made to pve timid counsels at Detroit (.Sandwi^) j firock is mide 
 »l«ve him in command only because he is • stmitenS fS ZS 
 
 p,Slr his misgiving at the apptintment on the giouml that while 
 Brock say, come,' Proctor says ' go '-in other worSs, that Pmctor U 
 wanting in pllantr>' as a leader." 
 As regards Ihe first point in the foregoing passai-c. it is enouuh m 
 
 2»s!itnZTi,:i[r '^"'■■'"^ "^^^^^^ 
 
 " I crossed the river contrary to the opinion of Proctor, etc. It is, 
 
Mictocorr tisoiuTioN test chait 
 
 (ANSr and ISO TEST CHART No. 2) 
 
 1.0 
 
 Hi, "^ 
 
 1^ 
 
 
 
 |27 
 
 I.I 
 
 
 12.0 
 
 
 
 li'-« 
 
 1^1^ 
 
 A TIPPLED I^A^GE Inc 
 
 ^S 1SS3 Eut Mam Street 
 
 r.^ Rochester, New rorti 14609 U^ 
 
 • JSS : (716) 482 - 0300 - Phone 
 
 ^g (716) 288 - 5989 - Fax 
 
2^a 
 
 Notes to Tecumseh 
 
 i^w'"'."" """'"'•'' '?•" """>' ''"'"I'' ^'Iribule to good forlune what 
 
 ssrof7he°;i.frxs..'. """' -^ -'--"^■^ f-- — i 
 
 .> JI"'V''«°'-''' ^' IJ"" '«?'">"■'? of hostilities, was greatly hampered for 
 Wriet"er'foTishr„^h"%'' ™^' ?'"'">• '''••' f"'^"*-"! ^S^^t^^' 
 
 Kk'i;'sa„L:,ril':' *"'-'"''""^' "'""= *■»' -«""-'. -d 'hi' -h^t 
 " I have now officers in whom I can confide. When the war lirnin 
 I was really obliged to seek assistance among the mffitia. The^^" 
 an uncommonly fine regiment, bu. wretchedly "ffic™ed " * 
 
 r..on« •^"'fS^I'K' -compare,! with the extract from Colonel Nichol's 
 o&™ '■' " ■■" '""""'-' "'^' '■™"" »^ O"' -f the " wre'chid 
 whliriVM^r^^d'^'P"?" "' ?™!' =" ""■■ ""Mi" *>"' «M 'come,' 
 
 ..>^JoT'rh;^De.li[r,;::„?™lndeLwXri^;rp7erCatii:^-"^ 
 Note 47. 
 
 "p^r„ oT',he"?rert ttt' LfelX.'V-thtVead^"^'''! 
 !«« wim. / The author has made use of a few other mnallv w,ll 
 tnstory a, dramatic exigencies would permit. lena and Lefrot he need 
 Sufo7of"SsSS.^""^""»- •^""^'^ - withouf Xl-et 
 
( >7i ) 
 
 NOTES TO CANADIAN POEMS. 
 
 "^ Baliad far Brave Women,^'' 
 Page 144. 
 
 coiwoct. Her name is on the bead-roll of our bravest and be« anrt 
 
 *' The Last Bison.'''' 
 Page 148. 
 
 mmmm 
 
27» 
 
 Notes to Canadian Poems 
 
 olher Weslern American towns, that in three years, it is estimated, 
 nearly six inilions of these animals were destroyed si-nply for their 
 tongues and hides. The reader who is interested I'n the history, habits, 
 :'„A !.5-v ""?"'' ."' '^f""'^ "> an article written by the author 
 entitled The Amencan Bison," in the " Transactions of the Rova 
 Society of Canada, for 189.." A huge animal called by the half-brjed 
 plain hunters the burdash (the hermaphrodite) was occasionally found 
 in a large bison herd. It was called by the Indians aj'af„aj;,, namely, 
 01 either .sex. Bu I calves were sometimes emasculated by plain hunters 
 in rude sport, and these als<, grew to a great size. The pelt of the burdash 
 when dressed was known as the "beaver robe," frSm its glossy and 
 rich brown fur, and thirty years ago brought ten times the price of the 
 ordinary robe of commerce. *^ 
 
 ' ' Missipimjistic, ' ' 
 
 Page 154. 
 
 The Saskatchewan River is called by the Crees Kisiskalchewan, 
 
 which means "swift oirrent." The Grand Rapids, by which it dis^ 
 
 charges into Lake Winnipeg, are called MissipAwistic, a wonl which 
 
 IIiP/kT"""^ l*"^ 'i"' 'r,V'°"» "l* " '""'"E »■;«■" "PO" the third 
 syllable quite beyond spelling. This vast river, which drains the finest 
 praines and forests of the North- West, has an interesting history a few 
 mei^re points m which may not be unwelcome to the feader About 
 two centuries ago the Blackfeet Indians and their allies occupied the 
 country dmmed by it from the Forks westward, but were disr^ss^ssed 
 of a great portion of it by the Crees, who, having obtainaF' magic 
 weapons," namely, fire-arms, from the English at Hudson &y. 
 invaded them by way of the Nelson and Chn'chill rivere. Until the 
 transfer of the Terntories to Canada, in 1870, the Saskatchewan 
 country was the scene of almost continual warfare between these rivnl 
 nations. ' 
 
 ,. ^,f°^ of Varennes, Sienr de la Verandrye, known as " The Cheva- 
 .Ti ^J™^"'')' credited with the discovery of the Saskatchewan in ' 
 I74»: This matter requires some clearing up. Sir Alexander Mac- 
 kenae_expres.^y states, in a note to his "General History of the Fur 
 trade, that farming operations were carried on by the French at 
 I'ort a la Corne and at Nepawi, on the main river, long before the 
 conquest. The Chevalier was undouiitedly a most adventurous spirit 
 but the date assigned to his discovery can scarcely, in any reasonable 
 historical retrospect, be called long before the conquest. Mackenzie 
 may have erred, but his statement, written over a hundred years ago i. 
 explicit. He himself ascended the river as far as Fort Cumberland on 
 hib_way to the still greater river which liears his name. 
 
 The experiences of Sir John Franklin. Sir John Richardson, and Can- 
 lain Back, on their way to and from the Arctic regions, are, perhaijs 
 more interesting srill from a scientific point of view. There are three 
 growing towns at present c." the the north branch of the river, namelv 
 
Notes to Canadian Poems 373 
 
 Princt Albert, Battlcford and Edmonton. The primitive town, how- 
 ever, wu built by the B<ri!-6ruti, or half-breed pUin hunters, in their 
 palmy days. It was called Kceskatahagan-Otaynow, or Stump Town 
 from lis situation on a wooded bend of the river. Mackenzie in his 
 journal mentions that Spanish horses, with their original owneis' brands 
 still upon them, were plentiful, when he wrote, on the Saskatchewan, 
 .k "^ ■ r '^J""'\ '^" "'^J' *"= "''«' •>»' of «"«"<! Mexico by 
 the ilUckfeet, though • -y were a very daring race. The Spanish horse 
 was the progenitor oi ine existing Indian ponies. 
 
 " Huskies," a corruption of the word Esquimaux, are train d.i(!s 
 which are snmm ted in large numbers at fishing-posts in .he interior, 
 pe true "huskie" is believed to be a cross between the wolf and 
 dogs seduced from trading-posts when in season. 
 
 " Moniyas." This is the Crce word for Canadian ; but it means, as 
 well, any new-comer or "greeii-hom." Moniya .■stands for Canada, 
 and, as in the Cree alphabet the letters "I" and "r" are wanting 
 it IS probably tne Indian's effort to pronounce the word Montreal as the 
 hrench voy^eurs did. Another derivation refers the word to the sail- 
 ing of llie first English ships into the offing at Nelson River on 
 Hudson Bay ; but this is fanciful. The word is in common use on the 
 Saskatchewan, even among whites who have mingled much with the 
 natives of the country. 
 
 '■ The trip to York," namely to York factory on Hudson Bay, used 
 to be made m spring and summer, and by this route the supplies for the 
 North- West, including Red River, were largely brought until the trans- 
 fer of the Temtones to Canada. It was a ve-y laborious trip, owing 
 to the numerous portages, which taxed the voyageur's carryine powers 
 to the utmost. j *> v 
 
 .u " P™*™ Car?''"™'*-" This bird (the American osprey) frequents 
 the Orand Rapids, though not in great numbers. Pelicans and cor- 
 morants are abundant, and, when running the Rapids, are frequemly 
 Hushed together with startling effect. i / 
 
 "Prisoners' Island" lies at the foot of the Rapids, and, during the 
 strife between the rival fiir companies in times past, was used hv the 
 successful side foi the time being as a place of safe-keeping of 
 prisoners. Hence its name, which it still retains. 
 
 " The Iroquois at the Stake." 
 Page l6a 
 In these verses an attempt is made to represent the n-liug spirit 
 strong in death, of an Iroquois warrior of the highest rank, when his 
 nauon was at the culmination of its power, and keenly alive to Ihe 
 import of white encroachment and aggression. Readers of Canadian 
 histonr are familiar with the pages of Parkman, and a few with those 
 of Warburton, an antecedent historian of the conquest, strangely 
 neglected nowadays. But though many readers are flimiliar with 
 the record of the struggle for supremacy between thj French and Eng- 
 lish, and for independence, on the part of the Indians, which raged with 
 
»74 
 
 Notes to Canadian Poems 
 
 I i 
 
 rhlf'„'f"'""™'l'°".™ ""■» ""tinenl for ov«r a hundred vears 
 
 '^"!.'"''>. 'h-m, and beside, like the e'"at race thW we7e Slv 
 
 ^otftruet"! r 'fn"'.h'^"''™' .''=" 7^'^"' Xs' wh^ 
 K,; ,k. i^ 1- t ™'„A" '"="■ speeches and conversaSon their term 
 
 rt.I^^'^°'^' °'''"' '"^"o'S was a marvel of political wisdom to he 
 wlTh ,?;,'' «™8=P=°P> ! "nd by its previsions a^ ns^lnCedin? 
 rivaUcd ,he° Sr«.'T '"Tr^ h"^^ tribal^'adonThiJ^f;"*: 
 «?™ » . u P^'J''^; .^'°'' »"<• "f" ">c advent of the whites 
 cieiy recreant branch of their own race was ruthlesslv destroved S 
 IhB reason the Eries t.nd Andastes, both be ievTrto^ oMtindrrf 
 
 F^reich. '"' """ ""''^ ""■ ™ ^--"""^ "' *eir all-Tce wSJThe 
 
 r J«! ^r"^^!*;^? S"" "^W ''i: ""J '"^"™^ themselves the iSbAm,. 
 f^-^fi • . "? House," lU head being a hereditary chief sraX 
 
 S Kct TZ''A,T'''f .«'^'u"«?^"«' '"dwas trSwith p'ofS 
 s^lH^J^ts th„,f„h T*" '"^/?'"P '"■'*" '"■= "»' "f descent, ft is said. 
 Mill exists, though shorn of its anaent greatness. The mvthoIo»v of 
 
 all ^ike the object of worship, though possessed of diverse «tritat« 
 Areskoui and Jouskeha were the moft iij^rtant of thrae The fo™S' 
 whose abode was the Sun, was worshil^Tai Ae'^ of wS^d 
 
 P&Trf^eXS^^rLc/a:^-^^ 
 
 5.S'r9,h?1Sf-tVtSl-ra;^-St1?S 
 
 railed Taronkiawagon, "The Upholder of tL Heavens "or "The 
 
 e^SMlll"* rs-V" '"/"''"''^=- '." '°"°"= tJnS^^ois'wa^^ 
 excelled all others; his endurance, indeed, was almost superhuman. 
 
Notes to Canadian Poems 
 
 »75 
 
 wr.ihJf!S?- •"" "'"S'P"' """"SKi " Fort Frontenac, (he 
 
 InSi . ""S""''>>6 courage, and died wilhom a Kroan. 
 
 Indian stocks were cross-pieces of wood to whidi onsone.. w.r. 
 ashed by the wrists and anklel The Indian's coSw«Urchr^l^ 
 
 !?,?^™T^' uf ' *"•>, buckskin thongs, sinew and " shaganaDDi." 
 
 ST..^!;ti':;;?it''Srtn,^'"°'"-««-"^'^^^^^^ 
 
 Page 164. 
 
 .villi"" ^J"£?°' '??"'• •*'""*''"• "■' "«■>' f-lls upon the second 
 
 S'liH^^y^erivtt^nit."""'' *'"= -" •- "" 'e-SeXubTou' 
 
 " Q^d /,«< Bay." 
 
 Page 169. 
 
 ,^L"k?T '*''', ""'""'^ North-wSt would fifumSwith^ 
 S?S^ r^T °'^"PP')T^ defence by a railway fZ CtarTh 1, " 
 
 Stetrto-rS?;^-,"^f E-™!^ -eweiSire oTtllS 
 
 " /» Memory of William A. Foster." 
 Page 171. 
 
 Oeo^eT. Denison, of Toronto : Henry J. MotZ, of SS^ •!!;£« 
 G. Ifaliburton, of Halila., and other^met inthrdapital and iJ^S'^ 
 
Notes to Canartian Poema 
 
 ^ 
 
 »76 
 
 M nnderiunding to work together uid encoiin«e the irrowth of .rtm 
 
 ffin » ' *"" ™"t' "It!;'" "■' '■"'^"«» '=" tJ^« m^o S'ir;? 
 
 o^iitld^rrL^irtLTe-^irii-zfr^^^^ 
 
 Page 138. 
 "InMemfrycfTltomasaAreyMtGet:' 
 This distinguished Irishman, though at one time a reh,t in .™. 
 |W^nst Greatliritain, b«ame, in I.te7years. a thoro^h Meier inX 
 importance to human liberty and progress of the BriSh Fj!!<i„ 
 .^"EStter^ryT" ^'? T °'K--"-"et«me rontn^"^?:; 
 InH% f .1 ""If n""™ '»n<i would ultimately be fnllylerved 
 sTrii^- " *f *i™,f °' "K'tators and separatWmet wU^W; 
 strong disapproval. He became warmly attached to Canada .nH !,„ 
 people, anj^the affection he received in re,um,%i«c7Cly'frm SS 
 young men, a most amounted to idolatry. He fid wt their fj?|i„" 
 on fire with hi, e oquent forecasts of CanZla's futuTa^d by hisfSrS 
 ?o™rr""T°"'"TrV. ''"' ^ """»<'<'. 'vhichTon tSe kTve 5 
 in tne united Mates. The *enians, who had eained c<m«M,r.l,i. 
 
 mtellectual power, with a fine fiiture beforrWm .3 a Ca3m statel! 
 Ute 5;fi„'S"^V^1,"'r "•":j!'"i,''y a Fenian when retS™f SI a 
 ^t..l T^i L ' Canadian House of Commons. His dlath ™ 
 %mX W'*^' ,"" r '>' ™ P^""""' ''°' "" ?">>"■: grounds. Emin™ 
 ,?,h™ 'fd^splacwi great confidence in ifr. Mcgee's sagadrLnd 
 judgment, and looked to h m as the man above all or>,..r5;™ti » 
 
 Snl^ J^"""tl''?^" "«^'f ">"• "^ deatrut'tUi^X^rtt 
 Fenian Order, which, it must be added, had fiuled to take root in the 
 Provinces. Indeed, there is no stronger t« jmony to the Imd,S for 
 Bntjshlawand liberty which experience in Te rolonies bS^than 
 the loyalty of the noble and generous Irish rare in oS. ' 
 
 a/ 
 
fa Gin 
 urrowesi 
 
 on both 
 er ideal 
 
 by the 
 in 1874, 
 >llowing 
 le task, 
 I. The 
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 ep root 
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 I arms 
 in the 
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 «lings 
 rarless 
 jve of 
 rymen 
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 pread 
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 them, 
 if his 
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