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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.

'* 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'"' ""' '""' ''°'»^" -'

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

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 !

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

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

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

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.

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.

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 ■ ■

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

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

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'

Tecumseh

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 !

.1/

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 ?

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

'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 ?

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

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

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

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

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:

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

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

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,

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

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.

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

Tecunueh

ACT III.

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

.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.

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

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

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.

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

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 !

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

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.

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

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.

Tecumseh

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

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.

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

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.

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

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

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

^'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.

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

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

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«

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

-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;

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

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.

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

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—

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

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

Tecumseh

ACT IV.

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»

Tecunueh

l< f

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.

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

^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

Tecumseh

I : I

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

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.

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

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. '

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

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 ?

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

SCCNB III.

Tecunueh

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.

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

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.

( 144)

U: t

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

146

A Ballad for Brave Women

m
A

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.

( '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.

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

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

•*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 '

'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.

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(ANSI and ISO TEST CHART No. 2)

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^2 Rochosttr. I>(ei( York 14609 u<iA

5g (''6) 482 - 0300 - Phon. ^

^= (^16) 2a8-S9S9-Fo.

( "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

•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.

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

'94

The Pines

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.

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

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

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

»>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.

#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»

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.

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

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)

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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. '

fa Gin
urrowesi

on both
er ideal

by the
in 1874,
>llowing
le task,
I. The
itution^
ep root
lape as

of the
:ry and

I arms
in the
in|Hre.
d that
erved,
ith his
id her
m her
«lings
rarless
jve of
rymen
erable
pread
U and
iously
id an
them,
if his
tates-
om a
was
inent
and
le of
ithe
1 the
t for
than