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TRAITS 
 
 OF 
 
 AMERICA. 
 
 A POEM. 
 
 CAMBRIDGE : 
 
 FROM THE UNIVERSITY PRESS. 
 HLliard and Metcalf Printers. 
 
 Sold by Cummings & Hilliard, No. 1 Cornhill, Boston. 
 1822. 
 
ADVERTISEMENT. 
 
 The avails of this work are devoted exclusively 
 
 to religious charities. 
 
 
i 
 
DISTRICT OF MASSACHUSETTS, TO WIT: 
 
 District Clerk -. Office. 
 
 Be it remembered, that on the seventeenth tiay of Juh A. D, 1822, and 
 in the forty-seventh year of the independence of the linn** States af 
 America, Cummings Halliard of the said district have df-posited ;n this 
 office the title of a book, the right whereof they claim a* proprietors, in the 
 words following, to wit : 
 
 " Traits of the Abortgines of America. A Poem/ 
 
 In conformity to the act of the Congress f <;ii " . ! >Y> S lir s, entitled 
 " An act for the encouragement of learnn g. i,\ > maps, 
 
 charts, and books, to the authors and ; i:;n g the 
 
 times therein mentioned ;" and also to an act, entitied vment- 
 
 ary to an act, entitled An act for the enooura^ew,;- -t -ouring 
 
 the copies of maps, charts, and books, ta th, jsro-prie-ors of such 
 
 copies, during the times therein mentioned. t-\.A ;\ v-\ <-<> rist- beneAt.s Thereof 
 to the arts of designing, engraving, and w ua^ bis<om-;t! anu other prints." 
 fc . JOHN W- DAVIS, 
 
ADVERTISEMENT. 
 
 The avails of this work are devoted exclusively 
 to religious charities. 
 
 
TRAITS OF THE ABORIGINES. 
 
 . 
 
 O ER the vast regions of that Western world, 
 
 Whose lofty mountains hiding in the clouds 
 
 Conceal d their grandeur and their wealth so long 
 
 From European eyes, the Indian rov d, 
 
 Free and unconquered. From those frigid plains 
 
 Struck with the torpor of the Arctic pole, 
 
 To where Magellan lifts his torch 1 to light 
 
 The meeting of the waters ; from the shore 
 
 Whose smooth green line the broad Atlantic laves, 
 
 To the rude borders of that rocky strait 10 
 
 here haughty Asia seems to stand and gaze 
 On the New Continent, the Indian reign d 
 Majestic and alone. Fearless he rose, 
 Firm as hismountains, like his rivers, wild, 
 
Bold as those lakes, whose wondrous chain coiatroul s 
 His northern coast. The forest and the wave 
 
 Gave him his food ; the slidit-constructed hut 
 
 i 
 
 Furnish d his shelter, and its doors spread wide 
 
 To every wandering stranger. There his cup, 
 
 His simple meal, his lowly couch of skins 20 
 
 Were hospitably shared. Rude were his toils, 
 
 And rash his daring, when he headlong rush d 
 
 Down the steep precipice to seize his prey ; 
 
 Strong was his arm to bend the stubborn bow. 
 
 And keen his arrow. This the Bison knew, 
 
 The spotted Panther, the rough, shaggy Bear, 
 
 The Wolf dark-prowling, the eye-piercing Lynx, 
 
 The wild Deer bounding through the shadowy glade, 
 
 And the swift Eagle, soaring high to make 
 
 His nest among the stars. Cloth d in their spoils 30 
 
 He dar d the elements ; with eye sedate 
 
 Breasted the wintry winds ; o er the white heads 
 
 Of angry torrents steered his rapid bark 
 
 Light as their foam, mounted with tireless speed 
 
 Those slippery cliffs, where everlasting snows 
 
 Weave their dense robes, or laid him down to sleep 
 
 Where the dread thunder of the cataract lull d 
 
 His drowsy sense. The dangerous toils of war 
 
 
He sought and lov d. Traditions, and proud tales 
 
 Of other days, exploits of chieftains bold, 40 
 
 Dauntless and terrible, the warrior s song, 
 
 The victor s triumph, all conspired to raise 
 
 The martial spirit, kindling in his breast 
 
 With life s first throb. Oft the rude, wandering tribes 
 
 Rush d on to battle. Their aspiring chiefs 
 
 Lofty and iron-fram d, with native hue 
 
 Strangely disguised in wild and glaring tints, 
 
 Frown d like some Pictish king. The conflict rag d 
 
 Fearless and fierce, mid shouts and disarray, 
 
 As the swi:t lightning urges its dire shafts 50 
 
 Through clouds and darkness, when the warring blasts 
 
 Awaken midnight. O er the captive foe 
 
 Unsated vengeance storm d. Flame and slow wounds 
 
 Rack d the strong bonds of life ; but the firm soul 
 
 Smil d in its fortitude to mock the rage 
 
 Of its tormentors ; when the crisping nerves 
 
 Were broken, still exulting o er its pain 
 
 To rise unmurmuring to its father s shades, 
 
 Where in delightful bowers the brave and just 
 
 Rest and rejoice. 60 
 
 Thus stood stern Regulus, 
 
 When furious Carthage urg d her torturing darts, 
 1* 
 
6 
 
 Transfix d with dark, demoniac rage to find 
 Her quiver all exhausted, and that soul 
 Proudly unhurt. 
 
 Yet those untutor d tribes, 
 
 Bound with their stern resolves and savage deeds 
 Some gentle virtues 5 as beneath the gloom 
 Of overshadowing forests, sweetly springs 
 The unexpected flower. Oft to their homes 
 The captive youth they led, into his wounds 
 Pouring the oil of kindness, and with love 70 
 
 Alluring him to fill the vacant place 
 Of brother, or of son, untimely slain 
 In the dread battle. 2 Their uncultur d hearts 
 Gave a strong soil for Friendship, that bold growth 
 Of generous affection, changeless, pure, 
 Self-sacrificing, counting losses light, 
 And yielding life with gladness. By its side 
 Like sister-plant, sprang ardent Gratitude, 
 Vivid, perennial, braving winter s frost 
 And summer s heat ; while nurs d by the same dews 80. 
 Unbounded Reverence for the form of Age, 
 Struck its deep root spontaneous, and display d 
 Its fair, decumbent petals. The dim eye, 
 The furrow d brow, the temples thinly clad, 
 
The wasted page of man s infirm* decline 
 
 Awake that deep respect, not always trac d 
 
 Mid those whom Science nurtures, whom the arts 
 
 Of smooth refinement polish, and a voice 
 
 Suhlime instructs, " Honour the head that bears 
 
 The hoary crown of Age." 90 
 
 With pious awe 
 
 Their eye uplifted sought the hidden path 
 Of the Great Spirit. The loud midnight storm. 
 The rush of mighty waters, the deep roll 
 Of thunder, gave his voice ; the golden sun, 
 The soft effulgence of the purple morn, 
 The gentle rain distilling, was his smile 
 Dispensing good to all. The Spirit of 111, 
 Base foe to man, they dreaded ; and the cry 
 Of his vile legions shrieking on the blast, 
 Shuddering they heard. In various forms arose 100 
 Their superstitious homage. Some 4 with blood 
 Of human sacrifices sought to appease 
 That anger, which in pestilence, or dearth, 
 Or famine stalk d ; and their astonish d vale s 
 Like Carthaginian altars, frequent drank 
 The horrible libation. Some, 4 with fruits, 
 Sweet flowers, and incense of their choicest herbs* 
 
8 
 
 Sought to propitiate HIM, whose powerful hand 
 Unseen, sustain d them. Some 5 with mystic rites, 
 The ark, the orison, the paschal feast, 110 
 
 Through glimmering tradition seem d to bear, 
 As in some broken vase, the smother d coals, 
 Scatter d from Jewish altars. 
 
 Let the heart, 
 
 That deems such semblance but the baseless dream 
 Of blind credulity, survey the trace 
 Of similarity, bid Truth s clear light 
 Beam o er the misty annal, note the facts, 
 Compare the language, weigh the evidence, 
 And answer for itself. 
 
 The chrystal tube 
 
 Of calm inquiry, to thy patient eye, 120 
 
 Meek Boudinot ! reveal d an unknown star 6 
 Upon this western cloud. Its trembling beam 
 Guided thy soul to Zion s sacred hill 
 And ancient temple ; as that wondrous ray 
 Streaming o er eastern summits, led the feet 
 Of the astonish d Magi, to the ceil 
 Of their Messiah. Costly gifts they bore, 
 Frankincense, myrrh) and gold ; but thou didst yield 
 The better offering of a contrite prayer, 
 
That God would gather from the utmost bound, 130 
 
 The children of his Friend, of the cold North 
 
 And glowing South, his fugitives require ; 
 
 From Cush and Elam, from the sea-green isles, 
 
 And from the western regions, bring again 
 
 His banish d ; bid the fearful desert bloom 
 
 And sing before them, while their blinded hearts 
 
 Illumin d, catch the knowledge and the love 
 
 Of Jesus Christ. Yet thou hast risen where pray r 
 
 Is lost in praise ; as yields the thrilling harp 
 
 Its symphony, when the high organ swells 140 
 
 In solemn diapason. Thou hast left 
 
 Mourning on earth, mid those who feel the ills 
 
 Of Penury, who venerate the deeds 
 
 Of boundless Generosity, or love 
 
 The pure in heart. 
 
 But whither art thou fled, 
 
 Adventurous strain ? Resume thy opening theme. 
 Paint the bold Indian ranging o er his vales, 
 Unaw d, and unsubdued. 
 
 Though his stern heart 
 Seem d cold and fixed as adamant, its cell 
 Conceal d the warm fount of parental love, 150 
 
 And felt its thrilling tide. The lofty chiefs, 
 
10 
 
 Inur d by frowning hardship to despise 
 
 The lineaments of joy, found o er their souls 
 
 Strange softness stealing, as they mutely gaz d 
 
 Upon the smile of infancy, or saw, 
 
 Waking from its sweet dream, the joyous babe 
 
 Reach forth its little hands. The warrior bold, 
 
 Who vanquish d toil and famine, bore unmov d 
 
 The battle-shock, or with calm, changeless brow 
 
 Endur d the keenest tortures, writh d in pangs 160 
 
 Over his children lost ; while bitter drops 
 
 Wrung forth by anguish stain d his furrow d cheeks. 
 
 In that dire struggle when relentless Grief 
 
 Confronts strong Nature, the heart cherish d nerve 
 
 Broken and bleeding, rent the stubborn breast, 
 
 As uptorn roots dislodge the iron oak 
 
 Which tempests could not bend. A prey to grief 
 
 Seem d the sad mothers. The first-rising storm 
 
 Of sorrow, passionate and wild, burst forth, 
 
 And in that deadly calm which Reason dreads 170 
 
 Shuddering, their weak, exhausted hands they prest 
 
 On their wan 7 lips, and in the lowly dust 
 
 Laid them despairing. 
 
 O er the dreaded grave 
 
 Mist and thick darkness brooded ; trembling Hope 
 
11 
 
 Vision d futurity ; but Fancy wrought 
 Incessant, peopling it with airy shapes 
 Fantastic as her own. 
 
 Now the fair clime 
 
 Was bright with verdure, lofty forests wav d 
 In the pure breeze, gay deer with branching horns 
 Allur d the hunter, through clear, sparkling streams 
 Glided the scaly tribes, and thronging seals 180 
 
 Innurnerous, sporting mid the emerald isles 
 Fled not the barbed lance. The Arctic sky 
 Kindling at evening with resplendent hues 
 Crimson and gold, in changeful wreaths combined, 
 To the poor Greenlander reveal d the dance 
 Of happy spirits, 8 who in fields of bliss 
 Weave their light measures. But anon, pale Fear 
 With trembling pencil trac d a gulph of woe 
 Throng d with unearthly shapes, whose dizzy bridge 190 
 Tottering, and guarded by a monster fierce, 
 How few could pass ! The first sad days of grief, 
 Were dark and dreadful. The tear-blinded eye 
 Pursues the wanderer, as he seems to urge 
 His toilsome journey. His adventurous foot, 
 Uncertain, slides upon that slippery bridge 
 Which like a tremulous and shrivell d thread 
 
Shoots the abyss of flame. Falling he rolls 
 
 Upon the fiery flood, struggling to gain 
 
 The far, dim coast, where angry dragons wait 200 
 
 With jaws distain d and scaly strength to attack 
 
 The weary traveller, ere he reach the abode 
 
 Of happy spirits. Hence the mourners place 
 
 By their lamented friend, his trusty bow, 
 
 Arrows and food, and closely wrapt in skins 
 
 They leave him standing in his narrow cell 
 
 Prepar d for combat. 
 
 Thus the warlike Earl 
 Stern Seward, 9 in his armour brac d, erect, 
 Met gris<y Death, his last competitor, 
 But his first conqueror. Some, half reclin d 210 
 
 Sit in their mouldering graves, prepaid to hold 
 Converse with Death s dark angels, when they come 
 Sweeping on sable pinions through the gloom, 
 Strong and terrific. Others, tow rd 10 the east 
 With faces turn d, repose ; that when the morn 
 Expected, breaks their slumber, its first ray 
 May guide them to that country where their sires 
 Dwelt in past ages. 
 
 O er the lonely tomb 
 
 Affection linger d watchful. Weed nor thorn 1 * 
 
13 
 
 Might choke the young turf springing, nor the hand 220 
 Of wantonness deface it. The keen eye 
 Of Valour, glancing o er this sacred trust, 
 Turn d like the sword which barr d the step of guilt 
 .From silent Eden. Thus the Scythian tribes, 12 
 Wandering without a city, call d to guard 
 Nor dome, nor temple, took their dauntless stand 
 Upon their fathers sepulchres, and taught 
 The boastful Persian, that the kindling flame 
 Caught from their ashes, like the lightning s wrath 
 Could blast his legions. Thus the natives dwelt, 230 
 Fearless, nor asking aught save what their realm 
 Amply supplied. They had not learnt to change 
 Heaven s gifts to poisons, nor the aliment 
 That cheers the body, to th imprisoning bond 
 Of th ethereal mind. No baleful arts 
 Ofchymistry transform d the staff of life 
 To Riot s weapon, and the tottering props 
 Of Death s dark throne. They knew not then to mark 
 With sparkling eye the transmigration foul 
 Of Earth s blest harvest melted in the bowl 240 
 
 Inebriate. Nor had the fatal charm 
 Of Luxury seduced them to subject 
 Spirit to sense, binding the lofty soul 
 2 
 
14 
 
 A vassal at the revel and the feast, 
 
 Like purple Dives. Temperance was theirs; 
 
 Theirs the elastic, the unruffled flow 
 
 Of spirits and of blood, the nerve firm-brac d. 
 
 The vigorous mind, th undreaded day of toil, 
 
 And the pure dream. Say, can the eye that mark d 
 
 Their simple majesty, and their bold hearts 250 
 
 Free and unfettered, as the wind that swept 
 
 Their cloud-capt mountains, bear to turn and trace 
 
 The dark reverse ? 
 
 First, to their northern coast 
 Wander d the Scandinavians, urging on 
 O er the cold billows their storm-driven boats, 
 And pleas d to rest, and rear their clay-built cells 
 Where seem d a trace of verdure. Ericke 13 steer d 
 From that lone isle which Nature s poising hand 
 Cast tween the continents. There Winter frames 
 The boldest architecture, rears strong tow rs 260 
 
 Of rugged frost-work, and deep-labouring throws 
 A glassy pavement o er rude tossing floods. 
 Long near this coast he lingered, half-illum d 
 By the red gleaming of those fitful flames 
 Which wrathful Hecla through her veil of snow? 
 Darts on the ebon night. Oft he recall d 
 
15 
 
 Pensive, his simple home, ere the New World 
 
 Enwrapt in polar rohes, with frigid eye 
 
 Receiv d him, and in rude winds hoarsely hail d 
 
 Her earliest guest. Thus the stern king of storms, 270 
 
 Swart Eolus, bade his imprisoned blasts 
 
 Breathe dissonant welcome to the restless queen, 
 
 Consort of Jove, whose unaccustom d step 
 
 Invaded his retreat. The pilgrim band 
 
 Amaz d beheld those mountain ramparts float 
 
 Around their coast, where hoary Time had toil d 
 
 Ev n from his infancy, to point sublime 
 
 Their pyramids, and strike their awful base 
 
 Deep neath the main. Say, Darwin P 4 Fancy s son ! 
 
 What armour shall he choose who dares complete 280 
 
 Thine embassy to the dire kings who frown 
 
 Upon those thrones of frost ? What force compel 
 
 Their abdication of their favour d realm 
 
 And rightful royalty ? What pilot s eye 
 
 Unglaz d by Death, direct their devious course 
 
 (Tremendous navigation !) to allay 
 
 The fervour of the tropics ? Proudly gleam 
 
 Their sparkling masses, shaming the brief dome 
 
 Which Russia s empress-queen 15 bade the chill boor 
 
 Quench life s frail lamp to rear. Now they assume 290 
 
16 
 
 The front of old cathedral gray with years 5 
 
 Anon their castellated turrets glow 
 
 In high baronial pomp ; then the tall mast 
 
 Of lofty frigate, peering o er the cloud 
 
 Attracts the eye; or some fair island spreads 
 
 Towns, tow rs, and mountains, cradled in a flood 
 
 Of rainbow lustre, changeful as the web 
 
 From fairy loom, and wild as fabled tales 
 
 OfAraby. 
 
 Amid these icy fields 
 
 Mark d they the Ocean monarch, in his sports 300 
 Terrific, lashing the wide-foaming surge, 
 Untaught to dread the harpoon, or to yield 
 In tides of blood upon the billowy plain 
 His regency to man. From eastern climes 
 Where Maelstrom s vortex threats the trembling isles 
 Of Lofoden and Mbskoe, where the hand 
 Of Nature in her wildness stamps the seal 
 Of terror on her deeds, from Norway s realm 
 Whose pine-clad forests hail the tardy ray 
 Of the spent sun, who journeying o er the heights 310 
 Of sky-wrapt Dofrefield, exhausted sinks 
 Upon his western couch, from thence the band 
 Of peaceful exiles caught in cheering beams 
 
17 
 
 Salvation s radiance. To their humble cells 
 Came holy men, by pious OlaPs 16 zeal 
 Wing d on their mission. Bowing from his throne 
 To the baptismal font, his soul imbib d 
 Pity for distant heathen, and he stretch d 
 The sceptre of his love to the far realm 
 Of Greenland s loneliness. Then churches rose, 320 
 And from the lips of priests and bishops fell 
 Sublime instruction, like the dews of heaven 
 Upon the sons of Ericke. These by Time 
 Mix d and incorporate with the native race 
 Content remain d, and wrought no change of wrong 
 Or tyrrany. These too, the Esquimaux 
 Wrapping his dwindled frame in the stol n robe 
 Of bear or rein-deer, and in uncouth sounds 
 Conning his legends mid his long, drear night 
 Counts as his sires. 330 
 
 And did thy footsteps press 
 
 These western shores, thou, whom the laureate Muse 
 Of ardent Southey, from her rapid car 
 Array d in cloud-wrought garniture, with stars 
 Of epic lustre, Madoc! 17 wandering son 
 Of that unconquer d clime, whose rifted rocks 
 Travers d by browsing goats, still from deep cells 
 2* 
 
18 
 
 Pour tuneful forth the treasur d minstrelsy 15 
 Of Tariessen s harp ? 
 
 Age roll d o er age 
 
 Ere the slight prow of bold Columbus broke 
 Its unknown way, and plough d the wrathful deep. 340 
 The poor Lucayan, as he stood and gaz d 
 On those tall ships, and those mysterious men 
 With brows so pale, and words of loftiest tone 
 Fancied them Gods, nor dream d their secret aim 
 Was theft and cruelty, to snatch the gold 
 That sparkled in their streams, and bid their blood 
 Stain those pure waters. Yet the victor spake 
 Of their mild manners, their deportment kind, 
 Generous and just, even to the hordes that wrought 
 Their misery and death. Once as he rov d 350 
 
 With ardent eye surveying this New World, 
 From his green summer bow r, an aged man 
 Came forth to meet him. As a patriarch, grave, 
 Yet vigorous he seem d ; thin, silver locks 
 Wav d o er his temples, and his form display d 
 That calm and graceful dignity which Time 
 Tempers, but not destroys. With courteous air 
 Ripe fruits he offer d, from the juicy stem 
 New-cull d and fragrant, while with gentle words 
 Bowing, he spake 360 
 
19 
 
 " See ye these verdant vales, 
 And spicy forests, where we careless live 
 In simple plenty ? From far distant lands 
 A differing and superiour race you come, 
 With mighty weapons, and a vvarklike force 
 To us resistless. We have not the heart 
 To harm the stranger, or to see your blood 
 Staining our arrows. Yet if men you are, 
 Like us, subject to death ; if ye believe 
 As we have heard, that after this short life 
 Another comes, unending, where all deeds 370 
 
 Receive their due reward, we need not fear 
 To trust your mercy, for you cannot seek 
 To wound the innocent." 
 
 Perchance the appeal 
 
 Which seem d so feeble to that conquering chief, 
 Was ponder d deeper when his soul had lost 
 The pride of pow r. Perchance 19 in his lone cell 
 At Valladolid, that mild voice might rise 
 In Memory s echoes, striking on his ear 
 With painful cadence, as he sought the tomb, 
 Urg d on and blasted by the withering frown 380 
 
 Of an ungrateful country. 
 
20 
 
 When the steps 
 
 Of the invaders first imprest the shores 
 Of the New World, say, did no dark eclipse 
 Pervade thy skies, fair Mexico f No sound 
 Portentous, warn thee that the spoilers came 
 To riot on thy glory ? Mark d 2 thy seers 
 5 Mid the dim vista of futurity 
 Aught like the step of Cortez, like his glance 
 Withering thy charms, as the false Spirit s eye 
 On sinless Eden ? Pour d the scroll of Fate 390 
 
 No fearful blackness o er the final hour 
 Of hapless Montezuma? Bright the Sun 
 Still shone, Peru ! upon thy diamond cliffs, 
 Cheer d the soft flow ret, blushing, while its roots 
 Sprang from the sparkling ore, gilded the dome 
 Of Capac s lofty temple, gave one smile 
 To his delighted children, though its beam 
 Was but the sad farewell of peace, and hope, 
 And liberty. Deep were thy prison sighs 
 Ahatualpa! 21 Vain thy high descent 400 
 
 From mighty Incas ; vain thy simple truth 
 And free confiding kindness to these sons 
 Of desolation. Not thy profFer d gold, 
 Profuse as grasping Mammon s boundless wish. 
 
21 
 
 Could sooth the tyrant s guilty thirst of blood, 
 
 Or bind his perfidy. But thou must bend 
 
 In all thy mildness to the blasting doom 
 
 Of base Pizarro. Ev n Religion lends 
 
 A mockery to the deed. Methinks I see 
 
 That kneeling monarch at the peaceful font 410 
 
 Of holy baptism, bearing on his lip 
 
 The name of Christ, while those profaning bands 
 
 Who bless his cross, yet trample on his blood 
 
 Prepare th unjust, the ignominious pang 
 
 Of black ning torture. But the hour is near, 
 
 Unprincipled Pizarro, when thy breast 
 
 Shall feel the assassin s poniard, and thy soul 
 
 Fleet where the opprest, and the oppressor meet, 
 
 Stript of the baseless pow r, and tyrant pomp 
 
 Of this vain world. 420 
 
 Soon in the track mark d out 
 By haughty Spain, the Lusitanian 22 bands 
 Came flocking ; from scant bounds and despot sway, 
 Eager for space and freedom, their rude hands 
 Grasp d the wide zone from where th Equator marks 
 The mouth of Amazon, to the broad sea 
 Of the La Plata. Sweetly were thy vales 
 Smiling, Oh fair Brazil ! on their new lords, 
 
22 
 
 Unconscious that their harvests many a year 
 
 Must rise and fatten in the richest blood 
 
 Of their own sons. Far northward, where the chill 430 
 
 Of winter linger d, steer d the crews of France, 
 
 And with a giddy and vivacious joy 
 
 Snatch d for themselves a cold Acadia, 23 white 
 
 With frost, and drifted snow. Onward they prest, 
 
 Toward where its source the proud St. Lawrence owns, 
 
 As Nilus 24 mid th Abyssinian wastes 
 
 Reveals through fringed reeds, and willows dank 
 
 His azure eyes. With trembling awe they mark d 
 
 Bold Niagara hurling down the steep 
 
 Eternal thunders, while the battle shock 440 
 
 Of rocks and waters in his gulf profound 
 
 Forever by the rushing column swoln, 
 
 Uprears a misty canopy to involve 
 
 The fearful conflict. Eagerly they trac d 
 
 That land which bounding the broad lakes, erects 
 
 A lofty aspect, where the dying sigh 
 
 Of Wolfe, on victory s bloody couch arose, 
 
 Where bold Montgomery sank mid patriot tears, 
 
 And Arnold urged the combat, ere his foot 
 
 Prest dark Perdition s portal. 450 
 
23 
 
 Sad of cheer 
 
 Seem Gallia s sons, as if their thoughts recall 
 A brighter clime. Ev n thus in later times 
 Gleam thy wan features o er the billowy surge, 
 Poor German 25 Exile ! by the heavy weight 
 Of a dense population forc d away 
 From the smooth verdure of thy vales, to float 
 Like feather o er the wave. 1 see thee launch 
 Amid the throng ! The deeply laden bark 
 Moves like a slave-ship o er the tossing main. 
 Thou spiest distant mountains, and art told 460 
 
 There is Columbia. Thy sad eye relumes 
 Its wonted brightness, trusting there to find 
 A Paradise. Thy trembling footsteps press 
 The shore of strangers, and a foreign voice 
 Bids gold against thy freedom. Thou art sold 
 To pay thy famish d voyage ! Mid the toil 
 Of thy hard term of service, think st thou nought 
 Of cherish d Germany ? Say, does no dream 
 Of fugitive delight glide o er the spot 
 That gave thee birth ? Men of strange brows are here, 
 Of other manners, and of unknown speech. 471 
 
 And the sad eyes of thy untutor d babes 
 Gaze wildly on them. Hadst thou ne er a hut 
 
24 
 
 Shelter d by some cool spreading tree ? a stream 
 
 To slake thy thirst ? a morsel to refresh 
 
 Thy wasted strength ? that thou should st roam to lay 
 
 Thy humble head beneath a stranger s turf, 
 
 Poor Emigrant ? Hast thou no bond of love, 
 
 Proud Germany ! to bind thy sons to thee ? 
 
 No chanties of home, that they should fly 480 
 
 Thy glance parental ? 
 
 Still thy breast conceals 
 The feudal 26 spirit, prompting thee to count 
 Thy sons, thy vassals. But thou, sterner France, 
 Didst with thy persecuting scourge drive forth 
 Thy worthiest offspring, they who " held the truth 
 In righteousness of life." Backward they turn 
 Their eyes on that delightful land, so lov d 
 Of bounteous Nature, yet with deeds of blood 
 So darkly stain d. As the receding coast 
 Fades on the wave, the scenes of other days 490 
 
 Brighten their lineaments. Majestic shades 
 Of buried heroes rise, array d in pow r, 
 As if they still the field of mortal strife 
 Rul d in their might. The form 27 of Conde gleams 
 As -when at Jarnac, rising o er his wounds 
 In scornful valour, or with deep reproach 
 
25 
 
 Silent, yet poignant in his dying eye 
 Transfixing the assassin s soul who pierc d 
 A heart which kings had reverenc d. 
 
 With low sigh 
 
 Where strong emotions mingle, they recall 500 
 
 The great Coligny, who alike in camp 
 And council proudly on his front display d 
 The name of Hugonot. But as the sire, 
 To whom th approaching grave betokens rest, 
 Thinks of his sons, his eye that Hero 2 8 turn d 
 Toward the New World, solicitous to find 
 A refuge for his followers. See, he falls ! 
 The tumult rages ! The fierce Guises steep 
 Their swords in blood, and the insatiate soul 
 Of Catharine riots in the dire repast. 510 
 
 Oh night of horror ! night of nameless guilt ! 
 To be remember d while the world shall stand, 
 With stern abhorrence. 
 
 See, the pious few 
 
 Escape to this far coast. Firmly they bear 
 Their lot of sorrow, while they meekly bend 
 Over the page inspir d. Hail, holy book ! 
 Best gift of Heaven, instructing Man to bear 
 Life s discipline, with eye devoutly fix d 
 3 
 
26 
 
 On Mercy s purpose, through the wildering maze 
 
 Of fate, or storm of woe, discovering oft 520 
 
 That golden chain fast linking all below 
 
 To Wisdom s throne. Divinely didst thou shed 
 
 In earliest ages on prophetic souls, . 
 
 Through types and symbols, a prelusive beam 
 
 Of HIS approach whose sorrow was our peace. 
 
 Hail, harp of Prophecy ! to mortal touch 
 
 Attun d by the Great Spirit ! Him who mov d 
 
 Upon the murmuring waters, when the light 
 
 Sprang out of Chaos, and who breath d the soul 
 
 Of inspiration into holy breasts 530 
 
 Of seers and patriarchs, when their raptur d strains 
 
 Hymn d the Messiah. 
 
 Hail, mysterious harp ! 
 That mid the trees of Paradise wert hung, 
 Wreath d with unsullied roses. Thou wert wak d 
 From Eden s dewy slumbers by the touch 
 Of the Eternal, while thy trembling chords 
 Awfully prest, spake of the future God 
 Incarnate, who should bruise the crested head 
 Of the foul serpent. 
 
 At the lapse of Man 
 Thy garlands wither d, and a mournful wreath 540 
 
27 
 
 Of cypress buds entvvin d thee, shuddering deep., 
 As thy sad voice pour d forth the fatal doom 
 Of him who was but dust. 
 
 Anon thy tones 
 
 Breath d in soft cadence on the wond ring ear 
 Of righteous Abraham. Pensively he mark d 
 The vales of Haran, fond to linger near 
 His father s sepulchres, revolving deep 
 The fiat to forsake his cherish d home 
 Kindred and country. Then didst thou confirm 
 His high obedience by thy heavenly strain, 550 
 
 Cheering his soul with promises of HIM 
 In whom his race unborn, and all the earth 
 With her uncounted families should joy 
 And find a blessing. Thou didst faintly gleam 
 Upon the eye of Jacob, as he lay 
 In his death-trance. With cold yet pow rful hand 
 He prest thee, and thine utterance was a sound 
 That fir d with extacy his glowing eye. 
 Thou didst announce Messiah in his power 
 Coming to Zion, as the sceptre fell 560 
 
 From humbled Judah. Balaam s doubtful hand 
 Rov d o er thy secret chords, though his heart shrunk 
 At the exulting praise? of the Star 
 
28 
 
 That should arise for Israel, and the might 
 
 Of that high sceptre, which in distant days 
 
 Should crush his foes. The Psalmist s tuneful touch 
 
 Rul d thee, Oh sacred Harp, with skill so sweet 
 
 So masterly, that angels deem d they heard 
 
 Earth echo their own lyres, and bent to learn 
 
 Of mysteries, which they had long desir d 570 
 
 In vain to comprehend. Isaiah wak d 
 
 To melody thy diapason strong, 
 
 Till thy rous d strings pour d forth in strains divine 
 
 The glories of Emmanuel. Deep they moan d 
 
 In broken cadence of his earthly woes, 
 
 His word despis d his visage marr d, his form 
 
 Laid in the tomb, and then in raptur d tones 
 
 Of thrilling music, chanted of his throne 
 
 O er all the eacth, when heav n-born peace should 
 
 reign, 
 
 And the fierce lion turning from his rage 580 
 
 Caress the lamb. The weeping prophet s tears 
 Dew d thee, Oh Harp I as from thy chords he drew 
 Music of heaven, still soflen d by his sighs 
 For Zion s ruin, for the wounds that rent 
 The " daughter of his people." 
 
29 
 
 He, who saw 
 
 On Chebar s banks higb visions, caught thy gleam 
 
 Of sudden beauty through the parted clouds 
 
 And hasting, press d thee. Daniel swept thy strings, 
 
 And Haggai made thee vocal, mid the tide 
 
 Of ecstacy, that rushing bore away 590 
 
 The mists of time, and made the future stand 
 
 Unveil d and glowing. Malachi came last 
 
 In the long range majestic of Heaven s seers. 
 
 Kneeling, the sacred harp of God he took, 
 
 And prest it to his lips. His hand essay d 
 
 To rouse it, and its treasur d voice awoke 
 
 Thrilling and tremulous. But Oh ! a Power 
 
 Invisible controul d it, and its strings 
 
 Quiv ring, were broken. 
 
 Nature seem d to mourn 
 
 The awful wreck. Night came, and darkness fell, 600 
 Long darkness. On the head of hoary Time 
 It settled, and desponding mortals wept 
 While tardy ages slowly rose to birth 
 And roll d away. At length the twilight dawn d 
 O er the dim mountains, and that day-star shone 
 Whose short ray, fading on the rosy cloud, 
 Anuounc d the Sun of Righteousness. A voice 
 
30 
 
 Cry d in the wilderness, and roughly ckd, 
 
 Exhorting to repentance, with stern brow 
 
 Stood the forerunner of our Lord, to mark 610 
 
 His way before him. Like a beam he glow d, 
 
 Severing the midnight of the legal rites 
 
 From the glad gospel s morn. But the frail lamp 
 
 Was quench d in blood, and o er the dazzled skies 
 
 Rose earth s salvation. Seraph lyres awoke 
 
 Responsive, breathing forth " good will and peace 5 
 
 In strains of rapture, and the shepherd train 
 
 Watching their flocks, beheld that glorious star, 
 
 Whose orb mysterious cast a healing ray 
 
 O er all the nations. 620 
 
31 
 
 BEHOLD they come ! O er the wide-tossing sea 
 Their ships adventurous throng. Their tall masts cleavft 
 The dim horizon, and what seem d but specks 
 On Ocean s bosom, spread wide, snowy sails 
 Curtaining the rocky shore. In crowds descend 
 The eager inmates, joyous to escape 
 Their floating prison and unvarying view 
 Of the eternal wave. Almost it seem d 
 As if old Europe, weary of her load, 
 Pour d on a younger world her thousand sons 10 
 
 In ceaseless deluge. Thus, when he whose eye 
 " Eclips d by drop serene," more clearly saw 
 Things hid from mortal vision, sang sublime 
 Of war in Heaven, the " seated hillocks" rose, 
 And uptorn mounts their myriad streams disgorg d 
 Whelming the recreant angels. 
 
 Thither came 
 
 To Nature s boldest scenery, men who saw 
 No beauty in her charms, iu the dark arch 
 
32 
 
 Of mountain forest springing to the skies 
 
 E er since Creation, on the mighty cliff 26 
 
 Crown d with rich light, or wrapt in sable clouds 
 
 No grandeur trac d ; for still their eyes were bent 
 
 In the dark caverns of the Earth to grope 
 
 For drossy ore. 1 These, in the chrystal streara 
 
 Fring d with the silvery willow, in the foam 
 
 Of the wild thundering cataract, bearing on 
 
 A mighty tribute to the swelling sea, 
 
 Beheld no majesty, nor deign d a glance 
 
 Save on the glittering sediment. To Heaven, 
 
 If it were possible, that to the seat 30 
 
 Of God such souls might soar, no thought of bliss 
 
 Could reach them there, except to gaze intense 
 
 Upon the golden pavement. Thither hied 
 
 Ambition, deck d with nodding plumes, and proud 
 
 In martial port. What saw he to allure 
 
 His haughty glance, amid a simple race 
 
 Content like poor Caractacus to hold 
 
 Nought but a humble hovel? Yet he snatch d 
 
 His trophies from the savage, with a hand 
 
 More savage still, nor did his stern soul shrink 40 
 
 To find his laurels tarnish d with the blood 
 
 Of Innocence. Here too the patriot came 
 
33 
 
 Indignant at tb oppressor, proud to dwell 
 
 With liberty, though on the storm-rock d cliff, 
 
 Where the stern Eagle broods. The Poet 2 lur d 
 
 His muse to emigrate, and fondly told 
 
 Of sylvan haunts, and fairy domes ; but frost 
 
 Chain d her light pinion, and the sun-beam cast 
 
 That cold regard, which like some icy chill 
 
 Still withers genius. Here, with footsteps slow 60 
 
 Came calm philosophers, shunning the throng 
 
 Who waste existence in an empty chase 
 
 Of frail ephemera, to merge the soul 
 
 In solitude, as in her element 
 
 Of purest health, and pause o er Nature s chain 
 
 Where link by link, with mystic art she binds 
 
 Terrestrial to div 7 ine. 
 
 The Christian knelt 
 Upon this rocky strand, intent to build 
 His tabernacle where despotic pow r 
 Might rear no image, and compel his soul G$ 
 
 To offer homage where the spirit s eye 
 Might seek its sire, uncheck d by the dire bolt 
 Of persecution s thunder, and with awe 
 Amid the silence of his works, revere 
 The great Creator. Thus with varying aim 
 
34 
 
 Flock d the firm Swede, bold Danube s patient sons. 
 
 The toiling Belgian, Albions patriot race, 
 
 And thine, Oh Caledon ! blest land of song, 
 
 While fair Hibernia pour d in throngs profuse 
 
 Her ardent offspring. Guided by the breath 70 
 
 Of southern gales, the bands of England steer d 
 
 Where the proud waters of the mighty James, 
 
 And swift Potomac, mark d the broad domain 
 
 Of great Powhatan. He more years had told 
 
 Than hoary Nestor. Thrice 3 had he beheld 
 
 His fading race scatter d like autumn leaves, 
 
 While he, unshorn and unsubdu d, remain d 
 
 King of the forest. To his region came, 
 
 Aiding the adventurous, one whose daring soul 
 
 Breath d the high spirit of heroic deeds, 80 
 
 The brave, accomplish d Smith. 4 His dauntless mind 
 
 And vigorous frame, scorning fatigue and toil, 
 
 Had gathered laurels from the lofty heights 
 
 Of martial Europe, from the battle fields 
 
 Of sultry Asia, where pure Christian blood 
 
 Mingling with the dark tide from Turkish veins , 
 
 Had stain d the red-cross banners. 
 
35 
 
 Buoyant Hope 
 
 Still smiling in his eye, while other brows 
 
 Were blanch d with terror, or with wan despair 
 
 The giddy heights of Fame he had achiev d, 90 
 
 The goal of strange adventure, and the maze 
 
 Of deep Romance, ere Manhood s tinge 5 had bronz d 
 
 His blooming cheek. The syren charms of wealth 
 
 Cluster d around his cradle, and the lawns 
 
 Of Willoughby, replete with genial gales 
 
 Nurtur d his roving boyhood. There he shar d 
 
 Sport, such as hardihood and danger love, 
 
 Though it mocks at them. From historic lore 
 
 A restless, kindling impulse caught the flame 
 
 That fir d heroic souls; and as he bent, 100 
 
 A silent student o er his daily task, 
 
 Unfetter d fancy bore him far beyond 
 
 His island home, to rove in distant climes, 
 
 And act in other ages, with the men 
 
 * 
 
 Of high renovrn. And when his joyous youth 
 
 Mark d with a traveller s eye, the varied scenes 
 
 Of Europe s grandeur, not the beauteous Seine 
 
 Winding through flow ry vales, or crown d with domes 
 
 Of gay Parisian luxury, nor yet 
 
 Those arts by which the patient Hollander 110 
 
36 
 
 Props his scant birthright gainst usurping seas, 
 Nor Nature s majesty, when on the Alps 
 She rests her cloudy coronet, could charm 
 His sanguine heart, like the red chart of war 
 Graven on hero s monument, or drawn 
 In fearful lines upon the furrow d earth 
 Where battles once were fought. 
 
 The rocky bounds 
 Of Caledonia next his step explored, 
 Seeking its monarch s court : for there he thought 
 Amid that brave and high-soul d race to meet 120 
 
 Some kindred spirits. But the pedant king, 
 Offspring of beauteous Mary, soon to wield 
 The Stuart sceptre o er high Albion s throne, 
 Allur d by promises the youthful band 
 To throng around him, yet no food supplied 
 To cheer ambition. Smith s impetuous sword 
 Spurn d at the thistly harvest, as he sought 
 Once more his native halls. But not the joys 
 Of softening home might lure that Spartan soul 
 Girding its armour on. From the fair domes 130 
 
 Where lingering Courtesy too oft detain d 
 His coldly render d time, the youth recluse 
 Turn d to the forest, and mid deepest shades 
 
37 
 
 Chose out a silent spot. Riven from their trunks 
 Firm boughs of cedar with the knotty oak 
 He interwove, in architecture rude, 
 Forming a green pavilion. There he gave 
 His soul its favourite lore, the rudiments 
 Of warlike science ; or on fiery steed 
 With glittering lance, evinc d in graceful feat 140 
 
 Of manly daring, or of martial skill 
 His ponder d theory. Thus the fam d prince 
 Of eloquence, sublime Demosthenes, 
 Pent in his subterranean cell, pursued 
 The art he lov d, or mid the Ocean s roar 
 Utter d its precepts. Still this close recess 
 Was sacred from the interrupting foot 
 Of Idleness, from enervating sports 
 And light amusements of the giddy throng ; 
 Hither no soft Indulgence gliding came 150 
 
 In Epicurean robe, nor Beauty s brow 
 Bent its keen glance of sarcasm to annoy 
 The military anchorite. But sounds 
 Of distant war, of battle grimly fought 
 Beneath the cloud of Turkish banners, came, 
 Loading the deep-ton d gale. As the proud steed, 
 Long held in durance, hears the trumpet blast 
 4 
 
38 
 
 And struggling, rends the earth, thus the bold youth 
 
 Undisciplin d, unsanction d, unrestrain d 
 
 By sage experience, rushes on his course. 160 
 
 This eager zeal he strove to sanctify 
 
 With high devotion s name, and, as he took 
 
 His rapid journey, often ask d his heart 
 
 With angry emphasis, if it were meet 
 
 That ancient city where the Saviour pour d 
 
 His dying blood, should bow its hallow d head 
 
 To sacrilegious thraldom ? Thus is Man 
 
 Prone with Religion s front to dignify 
 
 His doubtful deeds, baptising in Heaven s name 
 
 His earthly promptings. 
 
 Where Marseilles retreats 1 70 
 To rocky barrier, 6 from sea-beaten shore, 
 Mid thronging masts, the traveller s glance espies 
 A parting sail, and up the vessel s side 
 Ascends with little question. Here he found 
 A throng of devotees, in pilgrim s weeds, 
 Bound to Loretto, there to consummate 
 Penance or vow. 
 
 Loudly they spake in praise 
 Of that fair shrine by wondering angels borne, 
 On outstretch d pinions, from the Holy Land 
 
39 
 
 To glad Dalmatia, and from thence transferred, 180 
 
 Pitying the toil of weary pilgrim saints, 
 
 To happy Italy. Oft they describ d 
 
 The cell with lingering rainbow 7 ever bright. 
 
 Which hath no need of sun, or silver moon, 
 
 Or glimmering lamp, and that blest Lady s form, 
 
 The glorious Virgin, whose meek brow hath pow r 
 
 To cancel sin : and ever as they spake 
 
 Their eye with mortified, yet curious glance 
 
 Fell on the silent warrior. Soon recedes 
 
 The crowded mart, and fades the Gallic coast 190 
 
 In the faint emerald of the tideless sea, 
 
 While the refreshing and propitious gales 
 
 Swell the dilated canvas. But the day, 
 
 That sunk in smiles, rose not ; so dense a cloud 
 
 Involv d her in its canopy. Low blasts 
 
 Moan d hollow from the bosom of the deep, 
 
 And fluttering mid the heavy, humid sails, 
 
 The sea-birds shriek d. Around the feverish moon 
 
 Hung a wan circle, livid as the spot 
 
 Where aspic poison creeps. Then as the wing 200 
 
 Of the black tempest wav d mid mutinous winds 
 
 And mighty thunders, while the reeling bark 
 
 Alternate mounted on the slippery wave, 
 
40 
 
 Or roll d in dark abysses, ye might see 
 Those frighted pilgrims, with dishevell d locks 
 Telling their beads, and calling every sainl 
 Of note throughout the calendar to help 
 Their great extremity. 
 
 The soldier thought 
 Of that Disciple, valiant in his faith, 
 Who on the mission of his Master s will 210 
 
 Went bound to Rome, and on that very sea 
 .Encounter d shipwreck. He remember d too 
 The arm that sav d him, and upon that prop 
 Rested his waiting eye, while the dread storm- 
 Woke its third day of gloom. But the stern band 
 Bent a dark scowling glance on him who clasp d 
 No rosary, nor in such awful hour 
 Ave Maria utter d ; and it seem d 
 To their perverted minds, that for his sin 
 Such evil had pursued their innocence. 220 
 
 Pale Superstition s traitor eye reveal d 
 Her darken d purpose, ere its venom sprang 
 To the blanch d lip, to purchase with his death 
 Imagin d safety. In rash narrow minds 
 The blinding motive from the blasting deed 
 Hath no division. As the mariners 
 
41 
 
 Of T*arshish hurPd the recreant prophet forth, 
 
 So these good pilgrims in their righteous zeal 
 
 To save themselves, cast out the stranger youth 
 
 Into the raging element. Proud waves 230 
 
 Broke over him, but with impetuous strength 
 
 He brav d their fury. Long the foaming surge 
 
 With head uprais d, and firm, undaunted breast 
 
 He baffled in his might. Long unappall d 
 
 His spirit view d the purpose of his life 
 
 Still unaccomplish d, and believ d that God 
 
 Would snatch him from the deep, though all its waves 
 
 And water-spouts pass d over him. 
 
 But day 
 
 Sunk on her couch, and Evening quench d the light, 
 The feeble light, that from the billow s crest 240 
 
 Had gleam d upon the wanderer. Driven on 
 Like broken leaf before the blast, he seemed 
 A thing for storms to sport with, or the child 
 Of the dark surge, to which he wildly clung 
 As to a mother s breast. Alone he felt, 
 As if in wide Creation, nought but him 
 Surviv d. Cold languor o er the springs of life 
 Crept slowly, gainst his unresisting form 
 Rush d the wild wave, and his despairing ear 
 4* 
 
42 
 
 Heard the hoarse voice of waters and of winds, 250 
 
 As of a death-dirge. Midnight darkness prest 
 
 The wrathful deep, and drooping he resigns 
 
 His body to the tomb where myriads sleep, 
 
 Waiting that trump which warns the startled sea 
 
 To yield her dead. Ah ! when the arm of Man 
 
 Resigns its power, the Omnipotence of God 
 
 Is nearest in deliverance. A rude shock 
 
 Convuls d the victim s frame, as if it broke 
 
 The Spirit s casket on those marble rocks 
 
 Where slippery sea-weed binds the pearly cells 260 
 
 In depths unfathomable. His rent ear 
 
 Stunn d by the thundering tide resigns its pain 
 
 To welcome silence, and his stiffen d arms f 
 
 Convulsive clasp the sharp and rugged rocks, 
 
 While his dim eye and fainting bosom hail 
 
 The house of Death ; for thus the sufferer deemed 
 
 That lonely isle, on whose deserted bound 
 
 God had prepar d his refuge. 
 
 When he thought 
 
 Earth with her bars had clos d around his pit 
 Forever ; from that dungeon of despair 270 
 
 Jehovah had redeem d him, to behold 
 The light among the living. There he lay, 
 
43 
 
 Long in Exhaustion s trance, while the sp ent Strom 
 
 Swept by on drooping pinion. Then look d forth 
 
 From her deep sable arch, the timid Moon, 
 
 And saw the slumberer on that rocky beach 
 
 With bloodless cheek, and panting breast that heav d 
 
 Heavily, in low sobs : so strong did Life 
 
 Contend, and yet so bitterly had Death 
 
 Urg d his expected victory. Young Morn 280 
 
 From her bright eye such genial warmth diffused 
 
 That up the sleeper sprang, his humia locks 
 
 Still dripping, and his countenance illum d 
 
 With that inert expression, which displays 
 
 Its sceptic glances, when the muscles live 
 
 Before the intellect ; while the lost mind 
 
 Coming from exile, like the strong man arm d 
 
 Findeth her mansion empty. Thus, perchance, 
 
 Beam d the wan features of the man entomb d, 
 
 In that first moment, when returning life, 290 
 
 Caught from the touch of dead Elisha s bones, 
 
 Pervaded him : and well thy pencil s pow r, 
 
 Allston ! hath kindled that mysterious gleam 
 
 When in brief struggle the terrestrial strove 
 
 With the celestial, and dull matter mov d 
 
 Ere the Creator s breathing spirit gave 
 
 Pure Thought its resurrection. 
 
44 
 
 Soon with eye 
 
 No longer vacant, though still unassur d, 
 He, who had deem d his mortal conflict o er, 
 Strove with bewilder d toil to wake the trace 300 
 
 Of shipwreck d Memory. Almost it seem d 
 That the strange fable caught from Pagan lore 8 
 And interwoven with the creed of Rome 
 Were true, and to some isolated nook 
 Of Purgatory, he had been condemn d, 
 To expiate the errors which had stain d 
 His former being. Well this spot might seem 
 The broken isthmus of a middle state 
 Remote from joys of either world ; for nought 
 Like cheering verdure, or reviving shade 310 
 
 Of pensile bough was there. No cavern deep, 
 Like that of Patmos, where the lov d of God 
 Saw holy visions, spread a cool recess 
 From the sun s fervour ; and no transient gourd 
 Like that which shelter d Jonah s head, and lulPd 
 His dark repining, rear d its fragile stem 
 To blossom for a night. But the lone isle, 
 One naked rock, lash d by th eternal surge 
 Appall d the eye. Not with such poignant woe 
 The solitary glance of Selkirk fell 320 
 
45 
 
 On lone Fernandez ; there were bowers of shade, 
 Green earth, fair plants, nutritious roots and fruits 
 To cheer existence, there the bounding goats 
 Furnish d his household flock, the gentle kids 
 Lay at his feet, and fondly seem d to claim 
 Companionship. 
 
 But here was nought to break 
 
 The rayless gloom of sceptred solitude, 
 
 Nor foot of animal, nor chirp of bird, 
 
 Nor e en a shrub, on which might hang one nest, 
 
 For the poor hermit s heart to watch and love. 330 
 
 Words intermix d with sighs at length burst forth, 
 
 And strange their utterance seem d, where human tone 
 
 Had never woke before, the slumbering cell 
 
 Of unborn Echo 
 
 " Ah ! is this sad spot 
 
 My place of doom ? No more must I behold 
 The countenance of man ? Ne er hear his voice 
 Answering to mine ? Methinks the serpent s hiss 
 Were music to this ever-dashing wave. 
 The sight of the most loath d of Nature s works, 
 Vile worm, or slimy snail, or swollen toad, 340 
 
 Were joy. Shall withering famine terminate 
 My dateless being on this nameless shore ? 
 
46 
 
 Then what avails how drear the solitude 
 
 That hangs its blackening curtain o er a grave 
 
 Which none may visit ? A dissever d link 
 
 From vast Creation s chain, no pitying voice 
 
 Of kindred or of friend shall e er inquire 
 
 Whose bones lie bleaching on this blasted bourne 
 
 Of desolation. Hence ! away ye hopes, 
 
 Pictur d in childhood, treasur d in gay youth, 350 
 
 Vain, airy bubbles ! See, the lofty plans 
 
 Of proud Ambition, luring me to join 
 
 My name with heroes, see the glorious scroll 
 
 Unroll d by Fancy, shrivel to the seal 
 
 Of blank Oblivion." 
 
 With such groans, perchance, 
 Though stung to deeper agony, complain d 
 The fugitive of Elba, from whose head 
 The crown had fall n. His prison isle he pac d 
 With frantic step, and o er the sounding beach 
 Roving like maniac, tax d with madd ning curse 360 
 And ceaseless question, the unresting wave. 
 Yet was he not alone, for round him throng d 
 Thin spectral shapes from Lodi s bloody field, 
 From Jena, Jaffa, Borodino s bound, 
 Dread Austerlitz, Marengo, Moscow s wreck.- 
 
47 
 
 From countless scenes they rose, and flitting sought 
 To gaze on their destroyer. Conscience shrunk 
 At solitude so populous, and Pride, 
 Which quell d Remorse, wept at Ambition s goad, 
 Vexing, like him of Macedon, to find 370 
 
 Bounds to its conquest. 
 
 Would ye ask what throng d 
 The mental temple, when in frowns he rov d 
 Listning indignant to the Atlantic roar 
 On lone St. Helena ? Did Memory s torch 
 Light up his past career, o er blasted earth, 
 And wasted being, subjugated realms 
 And " seas of flame ;" 9 or Pity bear the wail 
 Of childless parent, and of sireless babe ? 
 Did pale Remorse, lifting her serpent scourge, 
 Come with the manes of the mighty dead 380 
 
 Who fell by treachery ? Did despair announce 
 The fearful miseries of the falsely great ? 
 Or sad Contrition wake the pungent tear 
 
 That cleanses guilt? 
 
 Peace ! for his doom is seal d. 
 Man may not scan the conflict of the soul 
 When the chill lip drinks the last bitter drop 
 Of life s exhausted cup. Man may not pass 
 
48 
 
 Verdict upon the heart, which the High Judge 
 Alone explores. Nor should he rashly hurl 
 His condemnations forth, since he, himself 
 With all his fancied, all his just deserts, 
 Is but an erring, trembling candidate 
 For his Creator s mercy. 
 
 Turn we now 
 
 To that lone exile on yon islet dark, 
 Who in the breathless struggle where fair Hope 
 Too weak for contest, copes with pallid Fear, 
 Descries a sail. Advancing where the rock 
 Strikes its sharp bastion farthest in the main, 
 His hand he waves in agony, and wastes 
 The remnant of his voice. Ah, see! a boat 
 Approaches him. Already he perceives 
 The quick dash of the oar, and the light foam 
 Rippling around its prow. Holy that sight, 
 As the ark s casement to the trembling Dove 
 Whose weary pinion o er the shoreless waste 
 Droop d as in death. Not once the exile thought 
 If friend or foe approach him, the proud Turk, 
 Or wily Arab, or brute Algerine, 
 All the stern ills that man inflicts on man, 
 Slavery, or galley-chain, or ceaseless toil 
 
49 
 
 Seem d in that hour of wild emotion, light 
 
 To everduring loneliness. The vohe 
 
 Of Man once more accosts him, a kind arm 
 
 Supports his feeble stepflHMfe. \e boat 
 
 ^nse^ensi! 
 And scale the vessel s side, wrme fainting, pale, 
 
 And speechless, he admits the tide of joy 
 To whelm his soul. Stretch d on the ready couch, 
 Reviv d with welcome cordials and the tone 
 Of sympathy, the sufferer s heart expands 
 In boundless gratitude, to that blest Pow r, 420 
 
 Who snatch d him from his dungeon ; while the bands 
 Of courteous France, who listened to his tale, 
 Exulting, that their gallant ship had sav d 
 A fellow-creature, merg d in that pure joy 
 The light aversion which their native coast 
 And sea-girt Albion cherish. Long they cruis d 
 O er the untroubled waters, mark d the coast 
 Of sultry Afric, caught the fragrant gales 
 That fan Sicilian vineyards, cross d the tide 
 Of the rough Adriatic, steer d with care 430 
 
 Amid Ionian quicksands, and beheld 
 The jEgean wave with sprinkled lustre bright 
 Of emerald islets, where the classic Muse 
 Delights to linger. There old Tenedos 
 5 
 
60 
 
 Frown d upon ruin d Ilion ; Lemnos hush d 
 
 Her Cyclopean forg3 ; while Lesbian heights 
 
 Still seem d to ech ) to Alcaeus s harp, 
 
 And Sappho s fond inhere Samos spread 
 
 Her beauteous harbours trUr tne violent wave, 
 
 While in perspective soft, her green fields gleam d 440 
 
 In semi-annual harvest, 10 rich with tints 
 
 Of purple light ; the clustering Cyclades 
 
 Girt in their rocky zone the Delphic isle 
 
 No more oracular, where glowing clouds 
 
 Of golden lustre, ting d with crimson dies, 
 
 Canopy pure Parnassus. 
 
 Rosy Rhodes, 1 1 
 
 No longer by its proud Colossus mark d 
 
 Stretch d its triangular scale, as if to catch 
 
 Those golden show rs 12 which testified the love 
 
 Of ardent Phoebus ; while the Cretan vales 450 
 
 Cloth d with their fruitage fair the awful base 
 
 Of that stern mountain, boastful of the birth 
 
 Of Jove the Thunderer. 
 
 Towards the setting Sun 
 
 Their course they bend, when, ploughing o er the deep 
 Her transverse path with heavy laden keel, 
 A ship they spy, whose waving colours spoke 
 
ol 
 
 Of haughty Venice. Hasting they prepare 
 
 For naval combat. Decks are clear d, light sails 
 
 Furl d, lest their pla^^g|^^)nness impede 
 
 Decisive action, while those engines dire 4G0 
 
 Which flash destruction o er the echoing wave, 
 
 i 
 Unlash d are levell d, and from their deep vents 
 
 The tompions drawn. Inspir d with warlike joy 
 
 The soul of Smith rush d to his eagle eye, 
 
 Darting unwonted lightnings. Every spot 
 
 He seem d to traverse ; now, in grave debate 
 
 Consulting with the Master, how to pour 
 
 With best effect their battery on the foe ; 
 
 Now, gliding o er the deck with watchful glance 
 
 Of keen inspection ; now, into the souls 470 
 
 Of wondering Frenchmen pouring that proud zeal 
 
 Which nerves a British tar. Thus the bold king, 
 
 Harry of Mon mouth, cheer d his doubting troops 
 
 For Agincourt s dread field ; with his gay smile 
 
 Inspiring courage, brightening the wan brow 
 
 Of Apprehension, while his valorous heart 
 
 Impatient chode the interrupting night 
 
 Which " like a foul and ugly witch did limp 
 
 So lazily away." Short space was here 
 
 In this wild contest on the briny plain 480 
 
For courtesy or signal of attack : 
 The volleying broadsides deal Destruction s blast, 
 Life fled in purple streamsj^^till the wrath 
 Of Man subsided not.J Fhe shivering masts. 
 And sides transpierc d, witness in fearful wounds 
 The strife of human passions, when they war 
 And yield not. 
 
 From the Gallic ship, a band 
 Forth sally, bright their boarding axes shine 
 Through sable wreaths of smoke, while they essay 
 With vigorous action to ascend the deck 490 
 
 Of the Venetian. Clamorous blows resound 
 And shouts outrageous, till the invaders, hurl d 
 Back from their slippery footing, darkly plunge 
 Beneath the redd ning element. Yet see ! 
 Another band, unaw d by Danger s front, 
 Dare the same fate, with desperate ardour fir d, 
 And o er the bowsprit rushing to the deck, 
 Wade through their comrade s blood. 
 
 How can I paint 
 
 The features of that scene ? My pencil shrinks 
 From dies so deep ! Oh ! twas a fearful sight 500 
 To souls who love not carnage, to behold 
 God s image in the human form so marr d, 
 
63 
 
 And his blest work defac d. The deed was done, 
 The hoarse, terrific din of battle o er, 
 But many a gallant man, whose warm lip pour d 
 Impetuous words to urge the contest on, 
 Saw not the victory, nor heard the shout 
 When Venice struck to France. O er the smooth wave 
 Her trackless course the victor ship pursued ; 
 Not quite unscath d 5 but, as the knight, return d 510 
 From tournament, heeds not his batter d helm, 
 And sever d cuirass, nor the puny wounds 
 That goad his side, since ever in his mind 
 The vivid image of his unhors d foe 
 Banishes pain and loss. The exulting crew 
 Boastful in garrulous joy, incessant trac d 
 Their chart of conquest, emulous to meet 
 A second enemy. But the lone youth, 
 Whose changeful fortunes we pursue, oft sigh d 
 For sweet release from durance on the wave, 520 
 
 And like a landsman pin d, whene er he thought 
 Of the pure verdure, and salubrious breeze, 
 And busy haunts, where answering voices blend 
 In cheering echo. Him at lenght they sent, 
 In feeble boat to that delightful shore 
 Which spread a refuge for the Hero s toil, 
 5* 
 
54 
 
 Who from Troy s flame, wild ocean s adverse surg& 
 And Juno s harsh inexorable hate 
 Scap d through long wanderings. 
 
 Glad th enfranchis d youth 
 
 Mark d the rough line of that peninsular coast, 530 
 Enraptur d revell d in the firm support 
 Of Earth, his mother, and once more beheld 
 Her brilliant garments, and alluring fruits, 
 With joy unutterable. Soon his course 
 In eager speed toward Rome s imperial seat 
 He pointed ; for in boyhood s brightest hour 
 Thither, on Fancy s pinion, had he flown 
 To search and question Cesar s sepulchre : 
 And thither now, half doubting, as if dreams 
 Involv d him in their tissue, he arriv d. 54 
 
 With reverence gaz d he on the Queen of earth, 
 Who in the mouldering of her gorgeous robes, 
 And ancient diadem, still rose in pomp 
 Of dread magnificence. His rapt eye saw 
 In warrior vision, when with sceptred pride. 
 Seated upon her seven-hilFd throne, she cast 
 The rays of her dominion on the wings 
 Of the unresting Sun, and bade them reach 
 All realms that saw his light. With pausing step 
 
55 
 
 Alone he wander d, mid those mighty wrecks 560 
 Which Man had consecrated, but old Time 
 Respected not, and bade the unsightly weed 
 And slimy snail deface. Anon he mark d 
 Strong massy fabricks, on whose fronts sublime 
 Dwelt hoar Antiquity, ruling the wrath 
 And spoil of ages. There unnumber d fanes 
 Tower d in the gracefulness of modern skill, 
 Where cluster d columns rear d their cornice fair, 
 And fretted architrave, th Ionic chaste, 
 Time-honour d Doric, or Corinthian rich, 560 
 
 Or simple Tuscan. The admiring youth 
 Mark d with a gaze intense of wondering awe 
 Vespasian s Coliseum, where, the Goth 13 
 Who led his barbarous legions to the spoil 
 Of the despis d magnificence of Rome, 
 
 Stood in amazement 
 
 That Ellipsis vast 
 
 Reveal d the hand of Titus, who resum d 
 The work his dying sire left unfulfilPd. 
 From those arcades, those pillars that embrace 
 Within their pond rous and wide-stretching grasp 570 
 That spacious amphitheatre, erst rose, 
 As from the Egyptian house of bondage, sighs 
 
56 
 
 Of captive Israel, labouring and oppref s d ; 
 
 Though no deliverer, call d by Heaven, came forth 
 
 From his rush cradle on the turbid stream 
 
 To break their yoke. Still might the emrecall 
 
 Through mist of gathering ages, through the wreck 
 
 Of Devastation s wantonness, 14 that spot 
 
 Where the pavilion, with its purple pomp, 15 
 
 And proud, imperial blazonry, enshrin d 580 
 
 The dignity of Rome ; still might it mark 
 
 The Cunei, 16 dividing with strict care 
 
 Patrician from Plebeian, even in sports 
 
 Whose baseness levell d all to the same rank 
 
 Of degradation, weighing jealously 
 
 Each vain distinction ; there might still be trac d 
 
 The radiatory passages, where throng d 
 
 Crown d Emperors, and savage beasts, and men 
 
 Abject as they ; and there stood gaping wide 
 
 Those Vomitories, 17 whence the noisy croud 590 
 
 Issu d abrupt. Swept by winds of Heaven 
 
 Was that vast structure, open to the wrath 
 
 Of raging elements ; no more was rear d 
 
 The spreading Velum s 1 8 gorgeous canopy 
 
 To shelter from the solar beam, or storm 
 
 Those pitiless throngs, deep gazing on the scenes 
 
i 
 
 i 
 
 57 
 
 Of inhumanity. There, with vigorous arm 
 And rigid muscles, nerv d to utmost strength 
 By uncomplaining Agony, wild wrath, 
 Undaunted courage, or intense despair, 600 
 
 Fought the stern Gladiators : l 9 stung to rage, 
 The lordly Lion, the mad Elephant, 
 The foaming Tyger, the Hyena fierce, 
 Baffled the hunter s skill, or madly rush d 
 Upon his spear, champing with bloody jaws 
 The murderous weapon. And alas ! how oft 
 Drank that Arena s dust the peaceful tide 
 Flowing from Christian veins, when strong in faith 
 Those holy victims, pouring forth pure pray rs 
 For persecuting foes, were given a prey 610 
 
 To monster s teeth. 
 
 There thou didst yield thy breath. 
 Ignatius, mitred prelate of that church, 
 Which first 20 upon its sacred banner bore 
 The name of Christ. Full on thy rapt ear pour d 
 The melody of heaven, 31 where the blest choir 
 With harp and voice, in high alternate swell 
 Hymn d the Eternal, till thy tranced soul 
 Wrapt in extatic vision, scorn d the bounds 
 Of Earth s low confine. But a martyr s doom 
 
58 
 
 Awaited thy decline ; and thou didst meet 620 
 
 Its pangs, rejoicing that thy soul should haste 
 
 To its reward, while high devotion s pray r 
 
 Ascended for the parricides who rent 
 
 Thy feeble span. M ethinks the Lions pause 
 
 In their career. Did thine uplifted eye 
 
 Intently fix d on Heaven imbibe new beams 
 
 Of awful lustre, till brute Instinct shrank 
 
 To mar that kneeling form, and clot with blood 
 
 Those silver locks ? 
 
 Yet there was Beauty s eye, 
 
 Gazing unmov d upon the ghastly wound, 630 
 
 And gasping bosom ; hearts, which should have been 
 At every scene of woe, as liquid balm 
 Distill d in Pity s heavenly dew, grew hard, 
 Grew obdurate as the flame-temper d steel, 
 Till female softness turn d her exile foot 
 
 From pagan Rome 
 
 Sick ning at thoughts like these 
 The youth with fond enthusiasm rush d to seek 
 Trajan s fair victor column, where it rear d 
 Its tow ring shaft, pure as the snows that crown 
 The Alpine heights. Its pedestal display d 640 
 
 Four birds of Jove, depending from whose beaks 
 
59 
 
 In rich luxuriance flovv d the laurel wreath, 
 
 And ah ! so well those polish d leaflets twin d 
 
 Their slender fibres, with so light a grace 
 
 Ruffled the Eaglets plumage, that the art 
 
 Of bold Apollodorus seem d to have taught 
 
 The cold and steadfast marble how to vie 
 
 With nature s life and beauty. There the youth 
 
 Knelt in low reverence, while in ardent tone 
 
 Burst forth his homage from unconscious lips 650 
 
 " Awful and glorious Man ! at whose dread name 
 
 Trembled far distant realms, while haughty Rome 
 
 Wove it with stars into her diadem, 
 
 Gem of her pride, and bond of loyalty. 
 
 Subjected Dacia felt thy vengeful sword, 
 
 Assyria was thy suppliant, the arm d throngs 
 
 Of wide Armenia, the infuriate hordes 
 
 From Mesopotamian mountains, and the tribes 
 
 Barbarous and rude, from where the Euxine roars 
 
 To the vex d Caspian, bent with vassal awe 660 
 
 Th imploring glance on thee. Thy curb controul d 2 2 
 
 The tossing Danube, and with force sublime 
 
 Treading the trackless deep, thy lofty prow 
 
 First to old Ocean s angry billows taught 
 
 Rome s will to reign." 
 
60 
 
 Ling ring o er Trajan s fame 
 In contemplation deep, the abstracted youth 
 Hung with a soldier s rapture ; then with eye 
 Dazzled and dimm d by countless monuments 
 That mark the lost illustrious, he explor d 
 The arch of Titus, 23 rich with victories 670 
 
 O er humbled Judah. There with sinuous trace 
 O er the fair sculpture, rapid Jordan rov d, 
 While on its banks the weeping captives throng d, 
 With heads declin d. And there were sacred spoils 
 Scatter d in careless triumph, the high trump 
 Whose silver sound warn d to the Jubilee, 
 The golden Candlestick, whose wreathed branch 
 Fed with pure oil, shed o er the sanctuary 
 Unsullied light, the table consecrate 
 To the shew-bread, which none but holy hands 680 
 Might touch unsinning, the mysterious ark, 
 The fearful tables of the Eternal Law, 
 The sacrificial altar, ah ! what pangs 
 Wrung thee, deserted Zion, when these spoils 
 Were won by Rome. Thy broken, ruin d towers, 
 Thy reeking stones, thy city furrow d deep 
 By Desolation s ploughshare, the dire cross, 
 Stern sword, gaunt Famine, sated with thy sons, 
 
61 
 
 And that majestic, dedicated dome, 
 
 The temple of Jehovah, given to feed 690 
 
 The Gentile flame, and thy weak remnant made 
 
 A hissing, an astonishment, a taunt 
 
 To every nation ; how these countless woes, 
 
 Immeasurable as th unfathom d sea, 
 
 Announce thy guilt, and verify the truth 
 
 Of HIM who cannot err ; and will they not. 
 
 Oh ! thou afflicted, tempest-tost, despis d 
 
 And reft of comfort, will they not at length 
 
 Ope thy blind eye to Him, whom thou didst pierce 
 
 And crucify, that thou might st mourn and live ? 700 
 
 Who with a traveller s eye can search the bounds 
 Of Rome, nor pause to muse upon the tomb 
 Of Adrian, asking the insensate winds, 
 How they can winnow as unhallow d dust 
 Its consecrated glory ? Who can shun 
 To gaze upon the lofty column rear d 
 To pious Antoninus, by the han.d 
 Of good Aurelius, sharer of his fame 
 Virtue and dignity, who early wise 24 
 Learnt with a philosophic sway to quell 710 
 
 The passions mutiny. Ev n hoary Time 
 Reveres that fabric, and commands the years 
 6 
 
62 
 
 That in their revolution blindly wield 
 
 Destruction s besom, and exulting stamp 
 
 Oblivion s seal, to spare that marble spire 
 
 Its simple beauty, nor to rend the pile 
 
 Which bears the second IN u ma s spotless fame. 
 
 Half sunk in Earth, the wanderer trac d his arch 
 
 Who on fair Albion s isle resign d his breath, 
 
 Septimius Severus. 720 
 
 Dark with throngs 
 
 Of flying Parthians, was its scroll sublime; 
 
 But gathering ages, dense with mouldering dust, 
 
 Obscur d the Hero s emblem, with keen touch 
 
 Corroding what the impotence of Man 
 
 Pronounc d immortal. With a statelier front, 
 
 Just where the dark base of the Caelian Mount 
 
 Confronts the Palatine, tower d the white arch 
 
 Of the blest Christian Emperor, Constantine, 25 
 
 Who bade the sword of persecution cease 
 
 To vex the bleeding church. There paus d the youth, 
 
 Reviewing the recorded tints that glow d 731 
 
 On memory s tablet ; for his soul was proud 
 
 To hold communion with the awful shades 
 
 Of Emperors, and warriors, and stern Chiefs 
 
 Who rul d the rage of battle. With less jov 
 
63 
 
 Gaz d he upon the fountains, sumptuous squares, 
 
 Rich palaces, majestic obelisks ; 
 
 Beheld the vaunted Vatican display 
 
 Its pomp of painting, and time-honour d scrolls 
 
 Innumerable ; and even with slighter touch 740 
 
 Of strong emotion, mark d that Basilick 
 
 Rising in deep and dread magnificence, 
 
 Beneath whose lofty dome pale Awe turns cold, 
 
 Offering a while, her trembling consciousness 
 
 Upon Devotion s altar. 
 
 Yet not long 
 
 Might spirit so active be content to dwell 
 Amid the tombs and mouldering monuments 
 Of buried glory. The hoarse blast of War 
 Kindling its ardour to the thrill of Joy, 
 Warn d it away. 750 
 
 . To throng d Vienna s bound 
 The soldier went, for there were martial sounds, 
 Mustering of mighty men, shrill trumpets blast, 
 Hoarse clang of armour, neigh of prancing steed, 
 Where brave Count Meldrich gallantly reviewed 
 His gather d legions. Strongly rein fore d 
 By Transylvania s Duke, their blended aim 
 Against the Turk was destin d, he who holds 
 
64 
 
 In cruel thraldom, those delightful plains 
 
 Where ancient Greece her band illustrious rear d 
 
 Of heroes and of sages. 760 
 
 There thy sword 
 
 Still glitters, Ypsilante ! May it deal 
 To the oppressor, justice, like the brand 
 Of mighty Scanderberg ! 2e he who beheld 
 The sad Albanian weeping in his hut, 
 Saw from his famish d babes the morsel torn 
 By stern rapacity, and nerv d his arm 
 For righteous vengeance. Prince ! Be Him thy guide 
 Who crown d with victory Judah s prayerful King, 
 When the swarth Ethiops, and fierce Lubims came 
 Like lions, in their insolence to wreck 707 
 
 The shepherd s fold. Oh ! is there not a time 
 In His eternal counsels, who doth break 
 The Tyrant s yoke, when the sword-planted faitli 
 Of Mecca s dark impostor from its root 
 Shall perish ? when the desolating rod 
 Of the vile Painim, shall no longer bruise 
 Earth s fairest climes ? Behold it darkly press 
 The realm belov d of Science, where her eye, 
 First waking from its cradle slumbers, scann d 
 A globe benighted ; see it crush the race 780 
 
65 
 
 Whom Xerxes might not conquer, where the arts 
 
 Like quenchless stars, their constellation wreath d 
 
 Round laurelFd Liberty : and lo ! it threats 
 
 The Holy Land, like that portentous star 
 
 In the red skies o er Zion s leagur d height, 
 
 When Rome s dire Eagles hasted to their meat. 
 
 It subjugates that land, once bright illum d 
 
 By blest Salvation s day-star, by the eye 
 
 Of priests and prophets, by the glowing wings 
 
 Of angel visitants, by the dread robe 790 
 
 Of the Eternal : hallow d by the steps 
 
 Of Him of Nazareth, as forth he went 
 
 Seeking the lost, where palm-crown d Olivet 
 
 Responded in low murmurs to his sigh 
 
 Of midnight pray r, where sad Gethsemane 
 
 Receiv d affrighted on her humid soil 
 
 The dews of agony, and Calvary 
 
 Bowing beneath the awful wrath of Heaven, 
 
 Shook to her inmost centre, at the voice 
 
 " Father ! forgive !" 600 
 
 But now the kindling war 
 Assum d a front of horrour. Siege on siege 
 Baffled the Turk s endurance, and confirm d 
 The Christian courage. Fortified in vain, 
 
 6* 
 
66 
 
 Alba-Regalis, 27 and Olumpagh fell, 
 
 Shaming the Moslem. Mid the warrior band> 
 
 Who by undaunted bravery, or skill 
 
 In varying stratagem, serv d to sustain 
 
 The rising fortunes of the Christian arms 
 
 Smith stood conspicuous, while around his brow 
 
 The hard won laurels cluster d. 810 
 
 -Once, a siege 
 
 Protracted long, inflated with base pride 
 
 The renegado garrison. Then forth 
 
 From those invested walls, there proudly came 
 
 A haughty champion, as in older time 
 
 Philistia sent her giant to defy 
 
 The host of Israel. With insulting taunt 
 
 Rang his loud challenge ; and amid the swords 
 
 That from their scabbards started to avenge 
 
 The holy cross aspers d, the boon was given 
 
 To the exulting youth, whose fate we trace. 820 
 
 The contest came, and proudly on his lance 
 
 Bears he his country s honour. From the height 
 
 Of giddy rampart, thousand sunny eyes 
 
 Of ardent beauty, thousand helmed brows 
 
 Bend anxious o er th arena. 
 
67 
 
 Rang d around 
 
 Upon the brow of an opposing hill 
 In moony crescent stretch d the hands of Christ, 
 While many a silent, interceding pray r 
 Invokes the God of battles. The bold youth, 
 Whose burnish d armour glitter d in the ray 830 
 
 Of the resplendent Sun, while sable plumes 
 Like a dark cloud wav d o er his polish d helm, 
 A second Hector seem d. Strongly he reins 
 His fiery courser, and with spear in rest 
 Awaits his foe. He comes, and furious wrath, 
 Mingled with scorn, inspires him, as he hurls 
 His dark defiance. 
 
 The loud trumpet blast 
 
 Breathes the appointed signal. They advance, 
 They meet as lightning, and the unhors d Turk 
 Rolls in his hearts-blood. From the ramparts rose 840 
 \ howl of horrour when that champion fell, 
 As the hoarse watch-dog, in his vigil drear, 
 Bays the cold moon. But hast ning to the field 
 Another foe appears. Towering and strong, 
 Like mighty Ajax ; his red eye-ball dealt 
 Bitter derision, as Goliah scowl d 
 Upon the stripling David. Strictly curb d 
 
68 
 
 His mighty war-horse, with indignant rage, 
 
 Foams at restraint, ejects the wreathed smoke 
 
 From his spread nostril, and with armed hoof 850 
 
 Spurns the rent ground. They meet in fatal shock, 
 
 Their steeds recoil ! God nerves the Christian s arm, 
 
 And on the earth the mail d Colossus lay 
 
 Gnashing his teeth in death. The victor rode 
 
 Unhurt the dread arena : but, behold ! 
 
 A third appears. Less furious than the last, 
 
 Yet more tremendous than the first, he rears 
 
 His front of hatred, while his measur d step 
 
 Wary he rules, watchful, but yet serene 
 
 As cautious Fabius. Almost it might seem 860 
 
 As if those fallen foes, dissatisfied 
 
 To die but once, had risen, and blent in him 
 
 Their varying lineaments, pleas d to create 
 
 A worse antagonist. On either side 
 
 Hung tremulous expectancy, o er those 
 
 Who watch d the combat. 
 
 Thus stood ancient Rome, 
 And haughty Alba, with such gaze intense, 
 Breathless, and leaning on th ensanguia d spear, 
 When rose the last Horatius, in the blood 
 Of his two weltering brothers, to confront 870 
 
 The twin Curiatii. 
 
69 
 
 Gallantly they met 
 
 At word of herald, but with careful eye 
 Adjusting the career, and with firm hand 
 Guiding the spear- shock. Lo ! the Turkish steed 
 Plunges without his rider, and a groan 
 Bursts from the city s height, responded long 
 In fitful shrillness, like the female wail 
 Over some favourite knight, whom minstrels style 
 The flower of chivalry. The deed was done. 
 The prize of conquest gain d. No other foe 880 
 
 Again would dare that fatal tournament, 
 Nor e en the insatiate soul of Mahomet 
 Could longer parley. Loud the shrill-ton d trump 
 In pomp of chivalry announc d the youth 
 Thrice victor ; tears and acclamations greet 
 His glad return, while honours and rewards 2 8 
 Whelm him in rich profusion. Ah ! but Man, 
 Brief Man, when in the spring-tide of his Fame, 
 Oft sees the ebbing flood forsake those sands 
 Where Joy had spread her sail ; oft hears the blast 890 
 Awake against his glory, and disperse 
 The light ephemeron. From heaps of slain, 
 In dark, disastrous hour the youth is drawn, 29 
 Half lifeless, pierc d with wounds, while foeman s care 
 
70 
 
 Solicits his revival, and preserves 
 Existence, reft of Liberty. 
 
 At length 
 
 Restored, he tastes of Slavery s bitter dregs, 
 And with revolting heart beholds the domes 
 Of high Constantinople, thither sent 
 A Bashaw s present to his lady love, 900 
 
 The fair Charitza. He with patient care, 
 Wrought in her beauteous garden, propp d the trees 
 Laden with fruit, twirTd the luxuriant vines 
 Round fairy arches, cheerM the imprison d birds, 
 Or bore fresh water to the thirsty flowers. 
 Him, at his toil, the maiden oft observ d 
 From her high lattice, where the fragrant gale 
 Murmur d through painted vases ; oft admir d 
 His noble mien, and manly, graceful form, 
 With partial eye. And often would she muse 910 
 
 And wonder, if in his dear native land, 
 A mother he had left, a sister fond, 
 To weep for him, or if a stronger tie 
 Binding the heart-strings, forc d some maid to pine 
 At his long absence. Then her plaintive lute 
 With thrilling softness she would touch, and wake 
 Some simple strain of captive youth, who won 3 
 
71 
 
 His Lady s heart, and how the lovers fled 
 
 A father s frown, to some green isle of rest 
 
 Gay with perennial roses. Then her glance 920 
 
 Would rest upon the youth, whose features beam d 
 
 With lustre, which the cloud of slavery 
 
 Strove vainly to eclipse, and she would sigh 
 
 She knew not wherefore ; then indignant, wish 
 
 That he were not a Christian, and retire, 
 
 Perchance, to dream of him. 
 
 But other bonds 
 
 Than those of dalliance, were ordain d to bind 
 His lofty soul. Driv n from the beauteous shades 36 
 Where soft Charitza render d durance light, 
 He bends a vassal to the lordly sway 930 
 
 Of her stern brother. Here he learnt the toils 
 That wait the slave ; contemptuous, bitter Scorn, 
 Unceasing Labour, and the gloomy waste 
 Of rifled Hope. Oppression s galling chain 
 Wrought no despair, but urged th indignant soul 
 To vengeful madness. When the tyrant s wrath 
 Heap d insolence with outrage, his bold hand 
 Aveng d it in his blood, 31 as Moses zeal 
 Slew mocking Egypt s supercilious son, 
 And hid him in the sand. The flying youth, 940 
 
72 
 
 An apprehensive fugitive, the prey 
 
 Of meagre Famine, rov d Circassian wilds, 
 
 Nor dar d ev n with a trembling voice to hail 
 
 His blood-bought Liberty, till in the walls 
 
 Of Russia s frontier, he receiv d the hand 
 
 Of pitying Friendship. Then, as if on wings 
 
 With which the liberated bird ascends 
 
 The trackless fields of ether, he survey d 
 
 Europe s exhaustless stores, 32 and o er the sea 
 
 When once like Jonah he had been cast forth 950 
 
 To the wild fury of the elements, 
 
 Gliding with prosperous gales, explored the coast 
 
 Of fruitful Barbary. There mid fragrant groves 
 
 Where glides the zephyr s wing, with sweets surcharged, 
 
 The wily Arab, the dark-minded Moor, 
 
 Unpitying Turk, and persecuted Jew, 
 
 Roam in wild hordes, unconscious of the charms 
 
 That Nature spreads around ; as the dull swine 
 
 Heeds not the trodden pearl. Westward he prest. 
 
 Over Mulluvian waters, whose fair banks 960 
 
 Fring d with the rose-bay on its graceful stem 33 
 
 Glitter d in varying beauty. There he saw 
 
 Shelter d by hoary Atlas, mid cool groves 
 
 Of lofty palm, Morocco s scattered mosques 
 
73 
 
 With- snowy minarets, her princes horneb, 
 
 Painted pavilions like the gold-streak d even, 
 
 Shaming the low and wretched huts where herd 
 
 The abject people. There, devoid of state 
 
 Crown or regalia, sits the Emperor 
 
 Upon his barbe, and neath the simple shade 070 
 
 Of his umbrella, holg^s his Meshoa^, 34 
 
 Dooming his crimeless vassals ^vith the tone 
 
 Of lawless despotism. * 
 
 But^he youth sigh d 
 For climes of liberty, and turning sought 
 That which the foot of Slavery may not press 
 Ere her sad spirit hears a heavenly voice 
 Exclaim, "Be free !" and her loos d manacles 
 Vanish, as fell imprison d Peter s chain 
 Before the Angel. The capricious sea 
 Again he woos, to view that native land, 980 
 
 The winds were peaceful, but the wrath of man 
 Troubled the waters. Fearful engines breathe 
 Forth from their dark, cylindric chambers, blasts 
 Of thundering terror o er the ignited wave. 
 Twice had the Sun his flaming coursers quench d, 
 And lav d his gold locks ere he sought his rest, 
 Yet still the deep foundations of the main 
 7 
 
74 
 
 Echoed those battle thunders. 35 Haply scap d 
 
 He sees white Albion s cliffs their welcome beam 
 
 Upon his eye, and revels in the bowers 900 
 
 Of his soft infancy. The rapturous joy, 
 
 That hail d his glad arrival, past, he breaks 
 
 The transient dream of rest, and bold embarks 
 
 A hardy pioneer to this New Wor^d, 36 
 
 Hewing out danger s path. With watchful eye 
 
 Ev n as a father shields the son he loves, 
 
 He nUrs d the infant colony, w^ich hung 
 
 In deathful hesitancy, and with care 
 
 Shelter d that vine, which in the wilderness 
 
 The cold storm threaten d. 1000 
 
 But the rugged brow 
 
 Of Chieftains frovvn d upon him, for his wiles 
 
 Perplex d their own. Baffled at length, and foil d 
 
 In stratagem, he tastes the captive s lot, 
 
 And borne in triumph sees the royal tent 
 
 Of Worovvocomoco. There enthron d 
 
 .Sat great Powhatan. 37 Flowing robes array d 
 
 His form, and a bright coronet of plumes 
 
 Wav d o er his brow. Upon his features sat 
 
 A native majesty, uncheck d by age 
 
 Which knew of no infirmity, and seem d 1010 
 
75 
 
 Well to befit the high imperial lord 
 Of thirty subject kings. Around him rang d 
 His chiefs in solemn council, while their eyes 
 Bent darkly on the earth, seem d to portend 
 An ominous doom. But still the prisoner read 
 Nought like stern hatred on those thoughtful brows 
 That ponder d o er his fate. 
 
 On the green turf 
 
 They spread a table, generously heap d 
 
 With all their choicest viands ; the fair haunch 
 
 Of savory venison, victims from the flood, 1020 
 
 And from the air, and fresh from hasting hands 
 
 The juicy corn-cake. No such kind repast 
 
 In gentle friendship heralded thy death, 
 
 Poor Ugolino. 3 8 Thou didst frantic grope 
 
 Amid thy famish d sons, till thou couldst hear 
 
 No more those moving skeletons implore 
 
 For water and for bread ; and when those lips 
 
 Hunger had seal d forever, thou didst live 
 
 Writhing in burning pangs, day after day 
 
 Of untold misery, till Mercy broke 1030 
 
 The long protracted, agonizing thread 
 
 That held thee from the grave. 
 
76 
 
 With courteous eare 
 
 These sons of Nature gave the parting rite 
 
 Of hospitality, and gaily strove 
 
 The prisoner to sustain the festive hour 
 
 With cheerful voice. But as the phantom guest 
 
 Marr d Mackbeth s banquet, so the morsel fail d 
 
 To gratify the sense, and bitter dregs 
 
 From the sweet draught clave to the victim s lip, 
 
 For on his soul the ghastly visage glar d 1040 
 
 Of beck ning Death. The fatal feast was o er : 
 
 And to his doom the pinion d captive led. 
 
 Yet no exulting shout, no taunting hiss 
 
 .Broke on the deep solemnity ; it seem d 
 
 A deed of stern, reluctant policy, 
 
 Averting evil, not avenging hate. 
 
 Heroic Andre ! Thou, perchance didst fall 
 
 Amid such sadness ; for the bursting sigh 
 
 Of sympathy, from strangers and from foes, 
 
 Bore tribute to thy virtues, and deplord 1050 
 
 Thine ignominious fate. 
 
 But now are rear d 
 
 Four massy clubs, high o er the victims head, 
 While the grim warriors, with averted face 
 Await the signal. One brief interval 
 
77 
 
 Of anguish d thought convuls d the sufferer s mind : 
 That all his honours, all his high designs, 
 All his ambition s concentrated hopes 
 Must end by savage hands. Pride stamp d her seal 
 Of cold reluctance, on a brow unblanch d 
 By fear of Death. To fall in laurell d fields 1060 
 
 Mid shouts of victory, as heroes die, 
 Seem d enviable glory. Mid the throng 
 That gaz d in silence on the prostrate foe, 
 As if half doubtful whether death had power 
 O er him like others, one young, timid maid 39 
 Sat neav the throne. Soft tears of Pity wound 
 Their copious course, and her imploring hands 
 Unconsciously she rais d tow rd him who seem d 
 Her sire, but from those trembling lips no sound 
 Gain d utterance. At length the trance of Fear 1070 
 Vanish d, and from those dove-like eyes shone forth 
 A dazzling spirit. That meek child, who seem d 
 To shrink as the Mimosa, now evinc d 
 More than a warrior s daring. Like the winds, 
 Rushing in wildness tow rd th imprison d foe, 
 His head she clasp d. 
 
 " Now let the death-stroke fall ! ? 
 Boldly she cried, " for ere it reach that head 
 7* 
 
78 
 
 Tiiis shall be crush d." The warriors uprais d arm* 
 For execuiion bar d in vigorous strength 
 Unconsciously declin d, and deep respect 1080 
 
 Ev n for a child, wander d with soft ning trace 
 O er their hard features. That unwonted sight 
 The monarch could not brook; his soul was mov d 
 To mark his daughter s bearing, and he bade 
 To loose the prisoner s bonds, and loud exclaim d, 
 "Rise! and be free." 
 
 Thus thou the royal maid 
 Of swarthy Egypt, through thy pitying heart 
 Didst save a humbled nation. Thou didst hear, 
 An infant wailing in his slimy ark, 
 Mid the green rushes on the river s brink, 1090 
 
 And hadst compassion. Ah ! how slightly deenvd 
 Thy haughty father, that his palace proud 
 Nurtur d the Hebrews hope : as little thought 
 The Indian Monarch, that his child s weak arm 
 Fostered that colony, whose rising light 
 Should quench his own forever. Thus a flower. 
 Nurs d in the forest, shed its healing balm 
 Upon our wounded sires. Shrinking they felt 
 The serpent s venom, and this noble plant 
 Solac d and sav d them. By the grateful hand 1100 
 
79 
 
 m 
 
 Of to nd Refinement gather d, on the breast 
 
 Of Piety it hung, and meekly drank 
 
 The breath of fairer climes : but early shed 
 
 Its withering bloom in peace. What though this flower 
 
 A giddy world might scorn, because its leaves 
 
 The sun had darken d, what if her proud glance 
 
 Saw in its form nor grace nor comeliness ; 
 
 Might not its incense rise as pure to Him 
 
 Who weigheth spirits ? 
 
 The unbidden tear 
 
 Rushing, Oh ! Indian Princess, o er thy grave 1110 
 EfFac d my theme a moment, turn d my eye 
 From those tall ships that land their ceaseless freight 
 On the new coast. I see our ancestors, 
 A thoughtful band, escaping from the frown 
 Of a hard parent. Resolute they seem, 
 Though sad of heart ; while their exploring eye 
 Wanders o er Plymouth s beach, and thickets dark, 
 All tenantless. A feeble light they struck 
 On a cold shore, a id oft its livid spire 
 Trembling, and narrowing, like a lance s point 1120 
 Seern d to expire ; but still a viewless breath 
 Would fan and feed it, though loud torrents fell 
 And the wild desert howl d. 
 
80 
 
 Do I behold 
 
 The men of peace approach, with smile serene, 
 Reaching the hand of amity, to greet 
 The Indians as their brethren ? Meek they stand. 
 And weaponless, save with the shield of truth 
 And equity. How from their leader s eye 
 Beams the calm lustre of an upright soul, 
 Brighten d by pure benevolence, as shines 1130 
 
 The Queen of Heaven upon the lunar bow. 
 Firm as th Athenian sage, to whom the scenes 
 Of life or death, the dazzling pomp of wealth, 
 Or hemlock draught were equal, is the port 
 Of the Colonial Sire, the Friend of Man, 
 While with the diamond seal of Truth he stamps 
 His oathless treaty. 40 Well might he who sigh d 
 A fugitive 41 from his paternal home, 
 Feel for the outcast ; as sad Israel learnt 
 In sultry Egypt s tyrant clime, to know 1140 
 
 The stranger s heart. With kind, assuring words, 
 And answering deeds, he binds the deathless chain 
 Of friendship ; and though o er his silent grave, 
 Time long hath wander d, still at the blest name 
 Of the beloved Miquon, 48 starts the tear 
 Of Indian gratitude. 
 
81 
 
 Finn in his path 
 
 Trod his disciples, faithful as the*race 
 Of llechab, 43 to their pious sire s command, 
 To shun the inflaming draught. What though their faith 
 Sternness might persecute, or Scorn deride, 1150 
 
 Flow d it not from HIS accents who forbade 
 The vengeful deed ? did it not harmonize 
 With His pure life, who gave his patient cheek 
 To the harsh smiters, and before his foes 
 Stood as the guileless Lamb ? Comported not 
 Its precepts with the spirit of that Friend 
 Of wretched man, whose advent melody, 
 Whose intercession, and whose dying gift, 
 Alike were peace ? And when his glorious reign 
 O er Earth commences, when the shock of war, 1160 
 The din of discord vanish, who shall lead 
 With purer joy, in reconciling bands 
 The Lion and the Lamb, than these who dwelt 
 An unresisting, unoffending race. 
 Calm, mid a boist rous world ? Are not the souls 
 Who flee from evil, violence, and strife, 
 Obtaining preparation for that clime 
 Where evil entereth not. nor woe nor pain, 
 For all is rest ? 
 
82 
 
 Long had the natives drawn, 
 
 From the full store-house of the Christian s sins, 1 170 
 Weapons against his faith. Long had they heard 
 A language from his lips, which by his life 
 Was contradicted. Long, too long inquired, 
 Of a perfidious race, ye, who command 
 Us, Indians, to observe the righteous rule 
 Which ye transgress, by breaking that just law, 
 Dishonour ye not God ? But here they mourn d 
 Nor fraud, nor wrong ; the purchased land they gave, 
 Unstain d with blood, and on its borders dwelt, ^ 
 As with their brethren. Soon that province rose 1180 
 To wealth and power, while on the verdant banks 
 Of rolling Delaware, in beauteous state, 
 Love s city smiled. 
 
 Quick o er the ample bound, 
 From those broad lakes, dark with eternal rain, 
 To the bright bow rs where sleepless summer sports 
 With rosy Florida ; and pressing west 
 O er the vain barrier, and retreating tide 
 Of Mississippi, spread our ancestors, 
 Taking a goodly portion, with their sword, 
 And with their bow. But whether the rich soil 1190 
 Peaceful was gain d, or snatch d in hostile wrath, 
 
83 
 
 The natives suffer d. Slow diseases came, 
 And swept them like the insect tribes away, 
 Before the ev ning blast. Intemperance 
 Destroy d her tens of thousands; Famine stern 
 Leagued" with the pestilence, and in their path 
 The mortal scorn, and hatred of white men 
 Stalk d, gleaning what was left. 
 
 Ah ! could st thou rise 
 
 From thy dark bed of waters, wretched Chief! 
 
 Unhappy Orellana! 44 what a scene 1200 
 
 Could st thou unfold ! From thy wide, fearless range 
 
 O er woods and mountains, by the mighty tide 
 
 Of vast La Plata, from the subject vows 
 
 Of thine adoring tribe, from charities 
 
 Of kindred and of country, from the bonds 
 
 That to the heart s deep centre link the names 
 
 Of husband and of father, wert thou torn 
 
 By Spanish cruelty. The tall ship moves 
 
 From the dear strand, and the red-straining eyes 
 
 Of thy enslav d companions, glare to thine 1210 
 
 Unutterable things. Incessant wrongs 4 * 
 
 Harrow thy lofty spirit, the red scourge 
 
 Brandish d by menial insolence, drinks oft 
 
 Thy blood, but haughtily comprest, thy lip, 
 
84 
 
 Deigns no complaint. Humbled beneath the brute, 
 
 Thy high soul bends not, rising o er its pangs, 
 
 Invincible ; though oft a burning tear 
 
 Would start, to mark the accumulated wrongs 
 
 That crush d thy faithful followers. Twas nigTit ! 
 
 And Silence leagued with rayless Darkness rul d 1220 
 
 The slumbering wave. What rends the startled ear 
 
 With wounding clamour, rousing from their cells 
 
 La Plata s sons, as if the angel s trump 
 
 Had warn d the grave s cold tenants ? Tis the cry 
 
 Of Orellana s vengeance. Ah ! what strews 
 
 The decks with slain, and bids the purple tide 
 
 To flow, as from a wine-press ? Tis the arm 
 
 Of Orellana. See him tow ring stand, 
 
 With thong distain d, 46 as erst on Lehi s sands, 
 
 Vindictive Sampson o er Philistia s sons 1230 
 
 Slaughter d in heaps, the dying and the dead, 
 
 His simple weapon rear d. The coward crew 
 
 Fly in wild terror, for the soul of guilt 
 
 Is dastardly. The gallant Chieftain call d 
 
 His victor-band around him. None were lost: 
 
 The ten stood faithful, while beneath enclos d 47 
 
 Hundreds of p ale oppressor s shudd ring cower d, 
 
 In midnight darkness. But the tide of Fate, 
 
86 
 
 Returns with whelming surge. To thee is giv ? n, 
 
 A glorious conquest, Chieftain ! but the torch 1240 
 
 Of triumph lights thy miserable tomb. 
 
 They come from durance, but they dare not meet 
 
 The conqueror s glance. Not to the deck they rush, 
 
 Where reek their lifeless comrades, but conceal d 
 
 In ambush dark, from clefts and crevices, 
 
 Aim at the foe. The fatal lead is sent 
 
 In ceaseless show rs, and every moment wings 
 
 Destruction s shaft. Brave Orellana scorns 
 
 The dastard vengeance, and with glance that speaks 
 
 The dark contempt of a majestic soul, 1250 
 
 Wrapping itself in death, he plunges deep 
 
 In Ocean s breast. His followers by his side, 
 
 Dare the same fate, counting the pitiless wave 
 
 More merciful than Man. 
 
 Oh ! ye who feel 
 
 Strong tides of sympathy convulse the soul, 
 When crush d Messenia against Sparta rose, 
 To rend oppression s yoke, have ye no tear 
 For Orellana ? Have ye not a sigh 
 For that sad race, of whose despairing lot 
 His was an emblem? 1260 
 
 8 
 
86 
 
 Yet amid the gloom, 
 
 Long strove their ancient Genius, struggling still 
 For life, and liberty, though awful Fate 
 Drew on the darkest hour. Like some tall form 
 Tow ring in strength, against the storm he rear d 
 His front reproachfully. The tempest came, 
 Strange thunders bellow d, flashing meteors blaz d 
 And hollow voices on the troubled blast 
 Warn d him away. To the cold cliffs he hied, 
 That overhung the waters; but the surge 
 Tossing and raving, rear d its haughty crest 1270 
 
 Red with his children s blood. Groaning he sought 
 His island home, where as in Paradise, 
 The vales were wont to blossom, and the birds 
 Warble at his approach. There Ruin swept 
 With murderous besom, Tyranny the scourge 
 Plied ceaseless, and his high, indignant heart 
 SwelPd, as he rush d to combat. But the dart 
 Hissing, from subtle Treachery s hand, transfix d 
 His throbbing breast. The serpent s hideous coil 
 Twin d round his bow rs of bliss. Fainting, he twin d 
 To his last refuge, to the stormy throne 1281 
 
 Of cloud-encircled Andes, whose proud glance 
 O erlooks the misty globe. But peace nor rest 
 
87 
 
 Awaited him ; from yawning chasms burst forth 
 Volcanic flames, and with their livid spires 
 Wreath d round his tortur d frame. 
 
 Beneath his feet 
 
 The marble summits cleft, and with the strife 
 Of warring elements, and rending rocks 
 Mingled his death-groans. Pitying Nature wept, 
 As the vex d spirit of bold Freedom left 1290 
 
 His favour d home ; and his forsaken sons 
 Fled to the forest, with wild beast to hold 
 Degraded fellowship. Goaded ev n there 
 To desperation, on their foes they turn d 
 Like the crush d adder, spurn d and impotent, 
 But spared for longer torments. Yet some beams 
 Of brightness linger d round them ; some faint trace 
 Of virtue, and of noble spirit lurk d 
 Amid the ruins. Thus thy fallen king, 
 Assyria ! feeding with vile herds, retain d 1300 
 
 Some portion of his dignity, that aw d 
 His brute companions. In their lowly path 
 Renouncing Manhood s port, he grop d, with locks 
 Bare to the dews of heaven, while side by side 
 An equal lot they shar d ; but if too near 
 With heads declin d, they prest, to gaze intent 
 
88 
 
 Upon his downcast eye, a flashing glance 
 
 Alarm d the dastard throng, as if from earth 
 
 In robes of flame, had risen some frowning shade 
 
 Of buried majesty. 1310 
 
Say ! who again will listen to the call 
 Of the returning Muse ? who rove with her, 
 Not in the pomp of Homer, to the fields 
 Of victor Greece, the conflagrated domes 
 Of ruin d Ilion ; not by tuneful reed 
 Of mighty Maro summon d to the march 
 Of his majestic hero, nor allur d 
 O er the wide wave in wandering course to roam 
 With sage Ulysses, nor with joy upborne 
 On Fancy s silvery plume, what time she steers 10 
 Tween Truth s fair region, and the varying clouds 
 Of wild Romance, tinting with rainbow hue 
 Roderick, or haughty Marmion, or the throng 
 Of Caledonia s monarchs, but with voice 
 Untun d by art, climbing with rustic step 
 Undisciplin d, the lone and misty cliff 
 Where mourns the forest Chieftain o er his race 
 Banish d and lost, of whom not one remains 
 To pour their tears for him. 1 
 8* 
 
90 
 
 Ah ! who will turn 
 
 From Fashion s pageants, from the bright parterre 20 
 Of polish d Taste, wherfc Poesy her gems 
 Scatters as dew-drops, from the heights sublime 
 Of intellectual grandeur, who will deign 
 With meek Humanity his gnide, to trace 
 Paths where the torch of glory never cast 
 Its blazonry upon the ample shield 
 Of proud historic fame ! Yet souls there are 
 Who love their Saviour s precept to " impart, 
 Hoping for nought again ;" Oh, let these still 
 Explore the wild, oft snatching as they rove SO 
 
 From cold Oblivion s caves, memorials frail 
 Of an unhappy race. 
 
 When despot sway 
 
 Opprest our country, and with wounded heart, 
 But soul invincible, the untried sword 
 In her own right she rais d, quick from the wild 
 The natives flocking, join d her doubtful cause 
 And struggled with her; pouring forth their blood 
 To nourish that young tree of Liberty 
 Whose fruits they might not taste. 
 
 Once as they rov d 
 In our defence, the hospitable shore 40 
 
91 
 
 Of war-stain d Delaware, a band they spi ed 
 In England s livery. Their swift arrow fled, 
 In fatal aim. One British youth alone, 
 Among the dead, surrounded by his foes 
 With lifted tomahawks essay d to sell 
 His life as Britain, and as Sparta taught 
 Their sons to hold its price. 
 
 Deep silence reign d 
 
 For one dread moment, while those dark, red brows 
 Bent on the youth, his dauntless port survey d 
 With kindling admiration. Thus perchance, 50 
 
 Grim Death hath paus d, when his menacing shaft 
 Hung o er some beauteous victim. But with step 
 Firm, and reproachful eye, a hoary Chief 
 Bent his strong bow, and aim d his weapon s point 
 At that lone breast. " God of my youth, forgive !" 
 In silence pray d the victim ; " at this hour 
 Of my extremity, pardon and save 
 The agonizing soul. Those whom I love 
 Dearer than life, but must no more behold, 
 Oh ! comfort and protect. Saviour ! to thee, 00 
 
 My spirit hastes." 
 
 Why did that hoary man 
 Drop the keen shaft, that on its well-strung bow 
 
92 
 
 Stood trembling, wing d for flight ? Why rushing grasp 
 
 With eager vehemence the captive s hand 
 
 Whose rapt soul, gazing o er the verge of life, 
 
 Had half believ d its awful voy ge was past 
 
 To dread Eternity. Thus stood the youth 
 
 So pale, so death-like on Moriah s mount, 
 
 When from the altar, from the gleaming steel, 
 
 From the rais d death-blow snatch d, he heard the voice 
 
 Save ! Save thy son ! 71 
 
 Reluctantly and slow 
 
 The haughty band their vanquish d prey resign d ; 
 
 But rankling enmity had learnt to curb 
 
 Its bitterness, if he, whose temples bore 
 
 Time s silver crown, commanded ; he to whom 
 
 A race not savage, who complacent boast 
 
 Superior forms of courtesy refin d 
 
 Scarce yield respect. The silent Chieftain led 
 
 To his rude cabin, rous d the slumb ring flame 
 
 To cheerful brightness, spread his couch of skins 80 
 
 To rest the weary one, his simple food 
 
 Gave to his hand, observing with kind glance 
 
 If fearfully he tasted, oft with smiles 
 
 Assuring him, and bending o er to hold 
 
 With anxious tenderness his throbbing head 
 
93 
 
 Ev en as a Father would. Thus, day by day, 
 
 And while slow nights with wintry pace held on, 
 
 He strove to make his ransom d guest forget 
 
 The prisoner, in the friend. Proudly he led 
 
 To the rude chase, exulting as he mark d 90 
 
 The glowing ardour of that noble soul, 
 
 Reckless of danger. When slow Evening drew 
 
 Her starry curtains o er their humble home, 
 
 The patient Chieftain taught the barbarous sounds, 
 
 And uncouth utterance of his native tongue. 
 
 But when some interval of silent pause 
 
 Would intervene, when the youth s soul had flown 
 
 Back to his country, to his pictur d halls, 
 
 Retracing scenes of recollected bliss, 
 
 Seeking communion with those glowing forms 100 
 
 Which rul d his heart, the Sire s dark piercing eye 
 
 Read on the varying volume of his brow 
 
 The spirit s changes, till unwonted tears 
 
 Stole o er his furrow d cheek. These he dismiss d, 
 
 As traitor visitants, prone to reveal 
 
 The weakness of the soul, which proudly bade 
 
 Her guards to veil her temple, and conceal 
 
 The glowing incense she was forc d to burn 
 
 To sensibility. Thus, in his cave, 
 
94 
 
 Stern Burhy labour d to condense the tears 110 
 
 Of sorrow-struck Ambition, till he wrought 
 The forge of madness. 
 
 Well hast thou pourtray d 
 
 His lineaments, O Scott ! Say, may we place 
 Thy name 2 upon that canvas, which high Fame 
 Blazons, but yet inscribes not ? Wisdom s eye 
 Hangs o er the vivid painture, and forgets 
 To frown on Fancy s work, so strong the hues 
 Of Knowledge, and the lights of Truth are blent 
 W T ith the design. 
 
 But now advancing Spring, 
 
 Threw her fresh beauties o er the waking Earth. 120 
 The primrose pale, the placid snow-drop rose 
 In loveliness : but stormy still, and dark 
 \Vere human passions, and the heart of Man, 
 Unchang d by Nature s gentleness, enshrin d 
 The image of dread Strife. The warlike Chief 
 Sigh d for the new campaign, from Winter s rust 
 Reliev d his armour, and with joyous tone 
 Summon d his young companion to the toil 
 Of weary march. Through forests deep and dark 
 O er many a hill, o er many a river, swoll n 130 
 
 With melting; snows, they past. At length a cliff 
 
93 
 
 Gave sudden to their view, the distant plain 
 
 Where England spread her troops. Fair were their tents, 
 
 As lingering hillocks of untrodden snow 
 
 On Spring s soft verdure. Gay, the fresh ning breeze 
 
 Play d mid their folds, and bore to that young ear 
 
 In mingled symphony of martial sounds, 
 
 The music of its country. Every joy, 
 
 And sport of boyhood, every raptur d hope 
 
 Of early youth, came thronging with the sound, 140 
 
 Came back unchasten d to his inmost soul, 
 
 Raising that quick, convulsive throb, which mocks 
 
 All utterance. Still he rnark d not that dark eye 
 
 Intently tracing eve< y nameless change 
 
 Which Feeling s pencil, dipt in strongest ties 
 
 Press d on his polish d brow. At length a voice 
 
 Broke the deep trance. " See st thou thy countrymen 
 
 See st thou our enemies? Proudly they wait 
 
 To give us battle. Think ! Who sav d thy life ? 
 
 Who took thee to his home ? Who taught thy hand 
 
 Helpless and soft, the firm canoe to build, 151 
 
 And guide it o er the flood ? Who shew d thee first 
 
 To snare the dext rous Beaver, hiding close 
 
 In his recess ? to aim the arrow s point, 
 
 As sure as death ? Thy lips knew not to frame 
 
96 
 
 Aught, save the speech of white men ; now they pout 
 
 In free and manly tone, the sounds sublime 
 
 Of our bold language. Say ! who shed this light 
 
 O er thy dark mind ? But I forbear to urge 
 
 The memory of thy debt. I only ask 160 
 
 Wilt thou repay with hatred ? Wilt thou join 
 
 The ranks that waste our country ? Wilt thou pierce 
 
 This aged breast ?" 
 
 -Sudden, indignant tears, 
 
 Burst ere the answer " Sacred as my life, 
 
 Shall thine be held. The foe who seeks thy heart, 
 
 Seeks mine." 
 
 The Chieftain rais d his clasping hands 
 To shade his visage, as they onward rov d ; 
 Hopeless concealment ! for his mighty soul, 
 Wrought up and struggling, spoke through all disguise. 
 At length his voice in soften d tones inquir d, 170 
 
 " Hast thou a father ? 
 
 " Yes. My sire surviv d, 
 When from the blest land that gave me birth, 
 I parted." 
 
 "Ah ! how wretched is his heart, 
 Deeming thee lost ! Know st thou that I was once 
 A father ? that my graceful son attained 
 
97 
 
 Thy years and stature ? Like a lion bold, 
 
 He rush d to war ; where darkest danger frown d 
 
 His eye was flashing. But I saw him fall, 
 
 Struck down in battle. At my feet he lay, 
 
 Cover d with wounds. He groan d not, as he died ! 
 
 My only one! Strong, brave, and beautiful. 181 
 
 Yes ! like a man he fell ; and I, his sire, 
 
 Have like a man aveng d him. Blood has flow d 
 
 T* atone for his in torrents ; and my soul 
 
 That sunk with him, in his red, tort ring wounds 
 
 Arose to vengeance." Deep convulsive sobs 
 
 Now check d his utterance ; his keen, restless eye, 
 
 Was wild, but tearless, and his spirit strove 
 
 To rule its agony, as the worn rock 
 
 Battles the stormy wave. Silent they rov d, 190 
 
 And calmness slowly o er the mourner s breast 
 
 Settled, like dews upon the heaving earth, 
 
 Rent by an inward conflict. Now the dawn 
 
 On her grey plumes long-balanc d, fled away, 
 
 And sudden lustre glow d. 
 
 " Dost thou behold 
 
 Yon golden orb, and is thy young heart glad 
 To see it gild the morn ?" 
 9 
 
98 
 
 " That beauteous sky, 
 Rich with prevailing day, Oh ! who can view 
 Without delight?" " I," said the hoary man, 
 " Have no delight. See st thou the heavenward head 
 Of yon magnolia, with its ample boughs 201 
 
 And its pure blossoms? Say, dost thou inhale 
 Its breathing fragrance ?" 
 
 " Yes. Nor can I view 
 That glory of the forest, but my heart 
 Is full of pleasure." 
 
 " I behold it too ; 
 
 I gaze upon its charms ; but pleasure comes 
 To this sad heart no more. Go then ! Return ! 
 Go to thy father ! that his heart may joy 
 When the sun rises, and the trees put forth 
 The buds of Spring." 210 
 
 While with insatiate zeal 
 
 The Red Manroam d the forest, or from floods 
 Allur d the finny spoil, the toil-worn hand 
 Of his more weak companion, wrought to win 
 In scanty harvest from the tardy earth, 
 The swelling legume, and that tub rous root 
 Which in their clay-built cells, the hardy sons 
 Of emerald Erin bless. Like modest worth 
 
99 
 
 Oft shrouded in a plain and homely garb, 
 
 Neath its rough leaf, and lurid flow r, it hides 
 
 Pale Penury s blessing. This the New World gave 
 
 When in the cradle of her innocence 221 
 
 To haughty Europe, who with curious eye, 
 
 As peers the miser at some new-found hoard, 
 
 Surveyed the infant stranger, and her gift 
 
 Grasp d as the bane of Famine. 3 By its side 
 
 The fruitful maize, 4 in verdant vistas rear d 
 
 Its spire majestic, to the playful breeze 
 
 Spreading its loosely-waving panicles, while low 
 
 The purple anthers bending o er to kiss 
 
 The silken, tassel d styles, delight the eye 230 
 
 Of watchful Ceres. Autumn s earliest call 
 
 Demands its treasures, and the caskets pour 
 
 Forth from their silver cones, in streams profuse, 
 
 The vegetable gold. Its lingering wealth 
 
 Spreads in rich tribute at the icy throne 
 
 Of that swart form, the licens d King of storms, 
 
 For whose support, soft Spring in tears awakes 
 
 The infant germ, bright Summer toiling wastes 
 
 Her fervid beauty, and grave Autumn roams 
 
 As a tax-gatherer, o er the vast domain, 24(T 
 
 Heaping his revenue. 
 
100 
 
 While warlike zeal 
 
 Nerv d the bold sons of Nature, as they rush d 
 In that red path, where Earth s proud heroes roll 
 The car o er trampled life, with silent step 
 The softer sex, still unregarded, cull d 
 From wild, or fountain side, such plants as aid 
 The healer s art. And might they hope to shun 
 The cup of scorn, because they meekly went 
 On Mercy s mission ? Does a sapient world, 
 Ev n at her noon-tide beam, accord her meed 250 
 
 To the mild race, whose heav n-taught Science heals 
 The rankling wound, extracts from stern disease 
 Its sting, and props frail Man to cope with Death ? 
 No ! to the licensed murd rer, to the wrath 
 Of Cesar s wild ambition, to the scourge 
 Of bleeding. Cambria, ruthless Tamerlane, 
 The Swedish mad-man, and the tyrant son 
 Of Corsica. When the stern warrior fell, 
 Writhing in agony, the patient hand 
 Of those despis d restorers, knew to check 260 
 
 The purple tide, and bind the throbbing chasm 
 With happy skill. If Fever s fervid rage 
 Glow d in the boiling veins, with care they sought 
 The firm Diospyros, 6 whose ligneous shield 
 
101 
 
 Repels th untemper d weapon ; freely urg d 
 
 The cool aperient from the fragrant bark 
 
 Of Sassafras ; 6 or fresh with balmy dews 
 
 Cropp d the fair bloom with which young Spring adorns 
 
 The flow ring Cornus. 7 Anxiously they sought 
 
 The Liriodendron, 8 with its varied bloom, 270 
 
 Orange, and green, and gold ; invok d the pow r 
 
 Of sanguine Cornus, 9 with its snowy cup, 
 
 And sapphire drupe ; or woo d thy potent spell, 
 
 Magnolia Grandiflora ; 10 to supply 
 
 The place of fam d Cinchona, whose rough brow 
 
 Now ruddy, and anon with paleness mark d, 
 
 Drinks in its native bed, the genial gales 
 
 Of mountainous Peru. Debility, 
 
 Melting the links of Thought, and blotting out 
 
 Life s purposes, beheld the nerves resume 280 
 
 Their wonted energy, when the pure blood 
 
 Of Liquidambar 11 trickling, or the pores 
 
 Of the balsamic Populus, 12 diffus d 
 
 Their cheering tonic. 
 
 That unpitying pain 
 
 Which plucks the nerves, close-sealing with a frown 
 Ev n Beauty s lip, which the bold Ayrshire bard 
 Wish d in his patriot vengeance to entail 
 
102 
 
 On Caledonia s foes, 1 3 yielded its rage 
 
 To the rough genius of that lofty tree, 
 
 Whose yellow armour bears in countless studs 290 
 
 The horrid thorn. 14 Swoln Dropsy, who essays 
 
 To inundate life s citadel, beheld, 
 
 As haughty Ocean marks his bound of sand, 
 
 A verdant barrier of fresh-gather d leaves, 
 
 Cull d from an acrid plant 15 and slow retir d, 
 
 Like the vex d spring-flood from the wasted earth. 
 
 Pleased with their toil, the healers sought the cell, 
 
 Where Rhododendron, 16 like some drooping maid, 
 
 Timid and beauteous, hides her golden locks ; 
 
 Or lur d her statelier sister s aid, to bribe 300 
 
 Relentless Chronic Rheumatism 17 to loose 
 
 The rigid sinew. Then the fetter d wretch 
 
 Strait leap d and walk d, as he who ask d an alms 
 
 Of the two chief disciples, while he sat 
 
 A lonely cripple at that temple gate, 
 
 Styl d "Beautiful." 
 
 How vivid is the eye 
 Of bright Lobelia, in her scarlet robe, 18 
 Yet neath that rich and velvet tissue lurks 
 A potent poison. But the holy art 
 Of Esculapius, can transmute the bane 310 
 
103 
 
 Of Nature, to her cordial ; from the breath 
 
 Of livid popies, woo the balm of pain, 
 
 The opiate of grief; in Earth s dark breast 
 
 Convert the foes of life to friends, and bind 
 
 Reluctant Hydra s to Hygeia s car. 
 
 Thus, with bold hand, compelling the proud force 
 
 Of deadly Hellebore, 19 the sons of Greece 
 
 Propp d Reason on her throne ; and thus that Voice, 
 
 Which in its majesty from Chaos call d 
 
 Order and beauty, still in sable clouds 320 
 
 Pavilion s Mercy, bids the broad-wing d storm 
 
 Disperse dire Pestilence, and those events 
 
 Which Man deems evil, w:>rk his endless good. 
 
 Intent to sooth the restlessness of pain, 
 
 Still roam d the weaker sex. In humid beds, 
 
 Or neath dense canopies of shade, they sought 
 
 Where the May-apple 20 loads the pendant bough 
 
 With emerald clusters ; where th Asclepias 2 J bows 
 
 Her bright, decumbent petals ; where entwin d 
 
 With parasitic clasp, embow ring blooms 330 
 
 The fair Convolvulus, 22 gleaming with tints 
 
 Of purple lustre; or the Cassia 23 shoots 
 
 Its aromatic stem, and slender leaf, 
 
 With silver lin d. Oft raising from the earth 
 
104 
 
 Her verdant curtain, joyous they descry d 
 
 That sinuous root, which blind Credulity 
 
 Hail d as a shield against the serpent s fang, 
 
 But Truth enrolls amid her precious spells 
 
 For wan Disease ; S4 or to its rocky home 
 
 Lur d by a purple ensign, like the tinge 340 
 
 Of the pure amethyst, detected oft 
 
 The hidden Fever-root ; 25 or dext rous pierc d 
 
 The Ginseng s cavern, 26 where like hermit grave, 
 
 Abjuring Man, yet bearing to his cell 
 
 Some lingering earthly vanity, it rears 
 
 Its simple umbel, lucid as the down 
 
 Of the young cygnet, and anon displays 
 
 In brilliant clusters, rich with vermil dies, 
 
 Its heart-shap d berries. Lull d by murm ring sounds 
 
 Of whispering brook, or softly gliding stream, 350 
 
 The Iris, 27 lumining her damp alcove 
 
 With bright, prismatic lustre*, to their will 
 
 Resign d her rainbow lamp ; and that tall plant 2 8 
 
 Whose flow r and budding leaf together spring 
 
 Yielded its pliant vest, offering at once 
 
 In tribute, both its spirit and its robe ; 
 
 Ev n as the rein-deer consecrates to man 
 
 The uses of his life, and then bequeaths 
 
105 
 
 His very sinews. Changeless as the front 
 
 Of Virtue, to the world s adversity, 360 
 
 The firm Cassine, 29 endures the wrecking storm, 
 
 And changeful season, by Tradition styl d 
 
 The boon of Heaven, and round Hygeia s fane 
 
 Wreaths a bright garland, when her priestesses 
 
 Clad in their meek and unpretending skill 
 
 Its aid demand. They boasted to allay 
 
 The venom of the crested snake, who moves 
 
 Slow through the thicket, with a dazzling eye 
 
 Fix d on his prey, or in a sudden coil 
 
 Involves the victim, or beneath the flow rs 370 
 
 Winds treacherous, to infix with barbed tongue 
 
 The traveller s foot. 
 
 But ah ! what art might heal 
 
 Their country s wound ? Did wild, or rugged heath 
 Or forest, where dim Twilight ever reigns, 
 Vale rock-emboss d, or root-inwove morass, 
 Or streamlet s marge, or mountain cliff conceal 
 No holy plant, whose essence might sustain 
 The daughter of their people ? She was pierc d 
 With deadly poison from the serpent s fang, 380 
 
 But for her sickness, " Gilead had no balm. 
 Had no physician," 
 
106 
 
 Slow with deep ning gloom. 
 Age roll d o er age, and every bitter year 
 Smote with its wintry frost some plant of hope, 
 Which the poor Indian cherish d. Still he nurs d 
 Unchill d, uncheck d, amid the tempest s ire 
 His native eloquence. Like the wild flame 
 Of some red meteor, o er the howling storm 
 It flash d, gilding the dark skirts of the cloud 
 Which curtain d midnight. Awfully it shone 
 Into the soul of Logan, as he wept 390 
 
 That of his race, cold Treachery had spar d 
 Not one to mourn for him ; its lambent spire 
 Play d round the temples, and the hoary locks 
 Of old Shenandoah, 30 as alone he stood 
 Like the bare hemlock of a hundred years, 
 Wither d, but not destroyed ; its darting ray 
 Flash d from the eye of Corn-Plant, as he spread 
 The black ning transcript of his nation s wrongs 
 Before great Washington. 
 
 -f-#-" Thou, 31 at whose name 
 
 Our kindling warriors for the battle arm, 400 
 
 Our women tremble, and our frighted babes 
 Cling to their mothers, yet whose generous heart 
 Still kind and pitiful, has mov d our tribes 
 
107 
 
 To call thee father, to thine ear once more 
 Our Chiefs appeal. 
 
 " They come not in base fear, 
 Who dread nor toil, nor danger ; but they seek 
 Peace for their people. Corn-Plant hath desir d 
 To guard the tree of peace, and as he pour d 
 Fresh dew upon its roots, his arm hath striv n 
 With his own nation. For in wrath, they ask 410 
 Continually, Tell us ! where is that land 
 
 On which our children, and our children s babes 
 
 >*- ~T- 
 
 Shall rest in peace ? Said ye not, that a line ^ . 
 
 Drawn from Ontario, to the purchas d bound 
 Of Pennsylvania, should forever mark 
 Its eastern limit ? And whoever past 
 West of the Beaver Creek, would set his foot 
 
 \ j^r 
 
 Upon our land 1 ) Why then, do white men come 
 And take it from us ?, ^Why do our bold Chiefs ^> 
 Look on, with folded arms, then turn away ? 420 
 
 They, who had sworn to keep it for our sons, 
 Secure forever ! 
 
 " What shall Corn-Plant urge 
 
 To this unhappy race ? His little store 
 He has imparted to those wretched men 
 Whom yours have plunder d, and unpitying left 
 
108 
 
 Without a garment. All his wealth is gone. 
 
 Yet they remain unsatisfied. His heart 
 
 Shudders to think, that when enraged they rise 
 
 To vengeance, their unsparing hand will whelm 
 
 Both Innocence and Guilt. The flow ry Spring, 430 
 
 And fav ring Summer, while his brethren till d 
 
 The bounteous Earth, he spent in fruitless toil, 
 
 Labouring for peace. The Autumn now is past, 
 
 But Corn-Plant hath no harvest. Sad he sees 
 
 His famish d wife, and hears the thrilling voice 
 
 Of his young children, asking him for bread, 
 
 When he has none to give. His soul is wrung 
 
 With agony for them. D,eep sighs he breathes 
 
 To the Great Spirit, 32 when the Sun declines, 
 
 And ere his first ray lights the trembling Morn, 440 
 
 He renders praise that he has been preserved 
 
 Through Night s long watches, from the restless rage 
 
 Of his own people. For they frowning mark 
 
 The White Man s friend ; and mid a blinded race, 
 
 Frantic with injuries, he knows no pow r 
 
 Can guard him, but his God. 
 
 " Yet there -are wrongs 
 
 Heap d on his nation, which his struggling soul 
 But ill can bear. Our noblest blood is shed 
 
109 
 
 By menial hands. Our Chiefs and warriors fall, 
 
 Fall unprovok d, and in their crimson beds 450 
 
 Sleep unaveng d. The haughty murderer stalks 
 
 From his dark deed, unpunish d passes on, 
 
 And finds protection. From the earth, a voice 
 
 Demands our vengeance. That you have a law, 
 
 Dooming the man, who sheds his brother s blood, 
 
 We know. But are we, Senecas, alone 
 
 Cast out from justice ? May the restless swords 
 
 Of all malignant rovers drink our blood, 
 
 And yet be blameless ? Shall the murderer find 
 
 A refuge in your arms, when our own law 460 
 
 Sanctions the swift avenger to pursue, 
 
 And recompense the deed ? Father ! to us, 
 
 These are great things. That you are strong, we know ; 
 
 That you are wise, we hear ; but we must wait 
 
 Till you have answered this, before we say 
 
 That you WQJust" 
 
 When rising cities shone 
 
 In wealth and splendour, the poor natives rov d 
 Around their bounds, amaz d. Fall n Pride, represt 
 The words of admiration ; but strange awe, 
 Slavish degeneracy, and the dark frown 470 
 
 Of banish d men, sat heavier on their brow. 
 10 
 
110 
 
 Once, to the mart which favouring Commerce rear d 
 On fair Manhattan, their sad Chiefs repair d 
 To seek an audience. From a tow ring height 
 They mark d the goodly prospect. 33 Lofty spires, 
 Vast domes, delightful villas, clust ring roofs, 
 Streets, where the countless throng incessant pour d, 
 As pleasure, pomp, or business mov d their tides 
 In murmuring fluctuation ; distant dales, 
 Slumbering in verdure ; the majestic flood, 480 
 
 Crown d with tall masts, and white with snowy sails, 
 Thoughtful they view d. Unrnov d, the men of wealth, 
 Who mark d their own possessions, lightly ask d, 
 " Why are ye sad ?" as once Chaldea s bands 
 Inquir d of wasted Judah, where their mirth 
 And songs had vanish d, when their unstrung harps 
 Hung on the willows, and their exil d feet 
 Roam d in captivity. 
 
 To them replied 
 
 The elder Chief: "We bear upon our minds 
 
 Past times, and other days. This beauteous land 490 
 
 Was once our fathers . Here, in peace they dwelt ; 
 
 For the Great Spirit gave it as a gift 
 
 To them, and to their sons. But to this shore 
 
 Once came a vast canoe, which white men steer d 
 
 Feebly, against the blast. 
 
Ill 
 
 Driv n by rude storms, 
 
 They sought permission on our coast to land, 
 And how could we refuse ? Their sick, they brought, 
 And in our soft shades, fann d by gentle gales, 
 Laid them, and they reviv d. But wintry winds 
 Soon swept the waste, and humbly they besought 500 
 Leave to erect a wigwam, while the frost 
 And snows were raging. Could our hearts refuse 
 The stranger shelter ? to our Chiefs they said 
 With solemn words, that when the soft ning spring 
 Dissolved the wrath of winter, they would seek 
 Their distant homes, and leave us to ourselves ; 
 And we were satisfied. With pitying eye 
 Their wasted frames we saw, by Famine srnit; 
 We gave them corn, and fed them. When fair spring 
 Shone sweetly on the budding earth, we claim d 510 
 Their promise to depart. But they had rear d 
 Strange iron ramparts, which at their command 
 Breath d flame and death. Pointing to these, they said 
 < We will not !" and indignantly they glanc d 
 Defiance on us. Other bands arriv d 
 Strengthening their purpose. Mad, enticing draughts 
 Deceitfully they gave us, till the cup 
 Reft us of reason. Then they forc d us back 
 
112 
 
 From field to field, from forest, and from flood, 
 
 Where our subsistence lay. And you, their sons, 529 
 
 Still drive us onward. You enjoy the land 
 
 Of luxury ; while we, wasted and scorn d, 
 
 Herd in the wilderness. But ye will cease 
 
 Ere long to press us, for our fading race 
 
 Will cease to be. Think ye, that we can view 
 
 These beauteous shores, and yon proud swelling flood, 
 
 And not remember that they once were ours ? 
 
 And thus rememb ring. need ye wond ring ask 
 
 Why sorrow clothes our brow ?" 
 
 Full many a strain 
 
 Of native eloquence, 34 simple and wild, 530 
 
 Has ris n in our dark forests, which the winds 
 Unheeded, swept away. Yet, had it broke 
 From bold Demosthenes, when Athens fear d 
 The distant step of Philip, had it burst 
 From the impetuous Hannibal, when Rome 
 Muster d at Zama it had been enrolled 
 In History s choicest annal, the pure eye 
 Of Taste had trickled o er it, and the lip 
 Of the young student, had been proud to pour 
 Its treasur d pathos. But thy slighted words, 540 
 
 Untutor d Red Man ! Ah ! how few will trace 
 
113 
 
 Their chronicle obscure, and fewer still 
 
 Accord the meed of just applause, unmix tl 
 
 With scorn upon thy nation. Lofty, firm 
 
 And high soul d honour, mocking at the pain 
 
 Which wastes the body, once thy sires could boast, 
 
 Such as in Rome, amid her better days, 
 
 Had been exalted. That indignant warmth 
 
 Which nerv d Lucretia s arm, which urg d the sword 
 
 Of the unshrinking Arria, fir d the breast 550 
 
 Of Oolaita. 35 Where dark Pepin s lake 
 
 Spread its bold bosom to the ruffian winds, 
 
 Her father s cabin rose. Grave, ancient men, 
 
 Would oft with envious eye regard the Chief 
 
 Who boasted such a daughter ; for the charms 
 
 Which in their simple thought were beauty, lurk d 
 
 And revell d round her youth. 
 
 From her calm eye 
 
 Beam d a dark majesty, that well beseem d 
 A Chieftain s daughter, though her willing hand 
 Slighted no labour, which their customs rude 560 
 
 Impos d on woman. In her garden s bound, 
 Among the plants, and clust ring herbs, she wrought, 
 With skilful industry ; her raven locks 
 Wreath d round her temples, the ripe corn she bruis d 
 10* 
 
114 
 
 For the returning hunters ; o er the wave 
 
 Guided the light canoe ; and when she rose 
 
 To shun the angle of some pointed rock, 
 
 With dext rous oar, her graceful form display d 
 
 Erect proportion, dignified, and firm, 
 
 Rounded with female softness. One dark eye 570 
 
 Still watch d her course, and if a billow spoke 
 
 The waking tempest s wrath, with lightning speed 
 
 Impatient darted to the maiden s aid, 
 
 Young Arionto. He, with vigorous arm 
 
 Could quell the angry waters, up the steep 
 
 Whose trackless summit mock d the mountain goat. 
 
 Press with unbending breast. In war, his soul 
 
 Shone like the veteran s through his kindling eye, 
 
 Undaunted and exulting : in the chace 
 
 His tireless foot rivall d the bounding deer 580 
 
 Whose fall reveal d his arrow-flight. Fair birds 
 
 Of downy breast, and rainbow plume he brought. 
 
 As trophies to his love, and his high heart 
 
 Had leap d to hear that maiden s gentle voice 
 
 Say timorously, that his hand alone 
 
 Should bring her ven son, and his cabin be 
 
 The shelter of her life. 
 
115 
 
 But frowns severe 
 
 Mantled her Father s brow, and her heart shrunk 
 To read their purport. Ever to his home, 
 With friendly hand, and fav ring tone he led 590 
 
 The grave Omaldi, held in high renown 
 For valour and for wisdom. Time had strewn 
 A tinge of silver lightly o er his brow, 
 And temper d Manhood s daring, with the cast 
 Of sage, serene Experience. He had said 
 " Give me thy daughter, and between our tribes 
 There shall be peace." 
 
 The maiden saw her fate, 
 For from the sacred mandate of a sire 
 Was no appeal. Young Arionto dwelt 
 With sadness ; where black shades expell d the day 
 He made his cavern, as the stricken deer 601 
 
 Shuns his companions. Oolaita s eye 
 Confess d no tear-drop, though its lustre fled. 
 Throughout the weary day, no bitter sigh 
 Burst from her bosom, and thro length ning nights 
 Sleepless she prest her pillow, yet complain d not. 
 There was an awful silence on the soul 
 Of that devoted maiden, which an eye 
 Studious of Nature s more mysterious springs 
 
116 
 
 Might fearfully interpret. Now the day 610 
 
 Of sacrifice approach d ; the bridal feast 
 
 Cheer d with its simple meriment, the cell 
 
 That gave her birth. But from that joyous scene 
 
 The maiden stole, and secretly attain d 
 
 A tow ring precipice, whose beetling front 
 
 O erhung the lake. 
 
 It was an awful height 
 
 For dizzy Fear to contemplate. There stood 
 The unmov d maiden ; her thin, bridal robe 
 And raven tresses floating on the wind, 
 While her fix d glance explor d th unfathom d tide 620 
 Darkening around its base. "I come !" she cry d, 
 " The bride of those dark waters ; true in death 
 To Arionto." From the frightful cliff 
 She vanish d ! its abrupt, irregular mass 
 Dazzled one moment with a flitting robe, 
 A heavy plunge was heard, yet nought was seen, 
 Save one red ripple, where the shaded lake 
 Fiow d on, in ebon stillness. High-soul d Maid ! 
 There didst thou perish. From Leucates rock, 
 Sappho might rush, a coward to the pangs 630 
 
 Of disappointed love, and be enshrin d 
 In Fame s proud temple, but thou, martyr firm, 
 
117 
 
 So nobly constant to thy virgin vow, 
 In the abyss of Pepin s lonely lake, 
 May st plunge, and be forgotten. 
 
 Driven back 
 
 From wild to wild, the natives yield, and sink 
 In cold oblivion. We, who ought to weep 
 O er their deep woes, and send a cordial balm 
 To heal the wounds, made by our fathers swords, 
 Lift up the hand against them, stain our page 640 
 
 Not with their wrongs, but with their dark reproach 
 Industriously sought. We teach our babes 
 Not to lisp prayers for them, but join their names 
 With baseness, treachery, and the shuddering 
 Of dread disgust. We take away their food, 
 Their hunting forests, and their broad lakes throng d 
 With scaly tribes. Their meagre forms we see 
 Withering with famine, and to their parch d lips 
 Hold that enchanted cup, whose fearful dregs 
 Like those of Circe, change the form erect, 650 
 
 To grov lling beastliness. How can he stand, 
 Unnurtur d Savage ! gainst that potent spell, 
 Which baffles prudence, steals from pride its plume, 
 Enthralls the wise, and lays the mighty low, 
 Ev n of our race. Th untutor d Indian drinks. 
 
118 
 
 Drinks, and is stupified, while we deride 
 
 And point him out; like the stern, Spartan lords, 
 
 Who gave their vassals the enticing draught, 
 
 Then call d their children to despise, and say 
 
 "Behold! the slaves are drunken." We prepare 660 
 
 A dry and thirsty soil by harrowing wrongs, 
 
 And the poor Red Man sets it with strange slips, 
 
 And roots of bitterness. Much we condemn 
 
 His mode of warfare. Thoughtless censors oft 
 
 Sneering exclaim, " How cowardly to hide 
 
 In the dark thicket, or from sheltering trees 
 
 Aim at the foe." Why are the palisade, 
 
 Rampart, and bastion rear d for the defence 
 
 Of modern valour ? Does it raise a blush 
 
 On the bold cheek of Discipline, to say 670 
 
 Its principle is to annoy the foe 
 
 And keep itself unhurt? Why is it base 
 
 To choose a spreading tree, more than to stand 
 
 Behind a parapet? The Soldier vers d 
 
 In all the " pomp and circumstance of war," 
 
 Seeks the close fortress, and we praise his skill : 
 
 The native, from the thicket lifts his bow, 
 
 And we decry the savage. Thirst of blood, 
 
 The dark offence, we tolerate ; but cry 
 
119 
 
 Wo to the wandering slave, if by his hand 680 
 
 Th offence shall come. Why ? Ask the heart within ; 
 And let us judge impartially, as those 
 Who in the twinkling of an eye, may meet 
 Judgment themselves. 
 
 But still we say, how vile 
 The skulking Indian, in his ambush laid ! 
 How are such stratagems despisM by those 
 Who feel the thirst of glory, and are mov d 
 By nobleness of soul, to the dread field 
 Of mortal combat. 
 
 Turn the storied page, 
 
 Retrace the scenes when Italy shrunk back, 690 
 
 Amaz d to see the proud Alps pour a train 
 Of warriors from the clouds. Whose martial skill 
 Spread his strong force in secret ambuscade, 
 And ere the foe was ready, starting up, 
 Surpriz d his legions ? Who the green earth stain d 
 With sudden slaughter? and with corses chok d 
 Thrasymene s reddening lake ? 
 
 Oh ! this we say 
 
 Was Hannibal, the generous, and the brave ; 
 Give him the meed of valour, age o er age 
 May roll, but not impair his deathless fame. 700 
 
120 
 
 Survey the seige of Veil, through the mist 
 
 Of gathering years. Ev n now her temples seem 
 
 To glitter on the eye, her olive groves 
 
 To woo the breeze, and her aspiring walls 
 
 To smile derisionm those weary bands 
 
 Who for ten years, with all the arts of war 
 
 Vainly invest them. But why heaves the Earth ? 
 
 Why from her unsuspecting bosom spring 
 
 Men, clad in steel ? who on their weapons bear 
 
 Havoc and death ? Are these the hosts of Rome ! 710 
 
 With soaring helmets, mining like the mole, 
 
 And in their serpentine, and secret path 
 
 Creeping, as the dark robber prowls, to snatch 
 
 Some long-mark d hoard, until they listening hear 
 
 Above their heads, the mingling, murm ring sounds 
 
 Of the unconscious Citadel ? Are these 
 
 The boasted heroes ! who with sudden strokes 
 
 Pierce her unguarded heart, and line her streets 
 
 With her dead children, slain amid their mirth ? 
 
 This was Camillus ! And what heart may doubt 720 
 
 The greatness of the,Roman ? 
 
 O er the tow rs 
 
 Of lofty Ilion, wreck d by Grecian wiles, 
 Why does the dazzled eye prolong its gaze 
 
121 
 
 In breathless interest, yet avert its glance, 
 
 Disgusted, and indignant, at the scenes 
 
 Of Indian stratagem ? The pomp of names, 
 
 The pride of princes, the time-sanction d meed 
 
 Of admiration, the majestic lay 
 
 Of the great master of the epic lyre 
 
 Infold in robes of flaming awe, the deed ; 730 
 
 Yet Fraud is still the same. 
 
 But that pure Eye 
 
 Which searcheth spirits, that just Hand which holds 
 The balance of the sanctu ry, will judge 
 Us all at last. And when the garniture 
 Of frail mortality hath fed the flame, 
 How will the motives of offensive war 
 Endure his righteous ordeal. Wrath ! Revenge ! 
 Ambition ! Hatred ! Guilty thirst of blood ! 
 How will they differ in the forest Chief, 
 And him ofMacedon? Oh! how will they 740 
 
 So deified on Earth, sustain the doom, 
 " Weigh d, and found wanting I" 
 
 Still we boldly say, 
 
 The Indian cruelty, untam d and fierce, 
 Can find no parallel, in any age, 
 11 
 
122 
 
 Or any nation. This strong charge is brought, 
 
 And they deny it not. What page have they, 
 
 Or what historic pen to palliate, 
 
 To justify or blazon ? To the lists 
 
 We dare the unarm d, and conquer them at once. 
 
 We cite them to their trial, where they stand 750 
 
 Silent and we condemn. But would some friend, 
 
 Some advocate, who loves to right the oppress d, 
 
 Like Clarkson, or like Wilberforce, arise 
 
 And tell these aliens, of the Spartan lords 
 
 Who deck d with garlands, and with freedom s robe 
 
 Thousands of home-born slaves, and ere the Sun 
 
 Rose on the joyous train, destroy d them all 
 
 With horrid treachery ; or of Persia s king 
 
 The fratricide, Cambyses, o er the tovnb 
 
 Of Egypt s monarch, mocking ; of the pride 760 
 
 Of brutal Xerxes, rising from the board 
 
 Of hoary Pythias, to destroy his sons 
 
 Before his eyes, and o er their mangled limbs 
 
 March all his troops ; or of Sicilian hate, 
 
 That when the faint Athenians bowing sought 
 
 With parched tongues, the cool, restoring stream, 
 
 Butcher d them with the water on their lips, 
 
 That quench d their battle thirst; of the sad throng 
 
123 
 
 In Syracusan prisons, scorch d by day 
 
 With burning heat, shiv ring and chill at night, 770 
 
 Uncover d, and emaciate, and unfed, 
 
 Save by a scanty pittance, to sustain 
 
 Life for its lingering torments ; of the deeds 
 
 Of murderous Sylla ; of the furious wrath 
 
 OfDionysius; of the fiend-like sports 
 
 Of Caligula, when his subjects limbs 
 
 Were mangled, and struck off, that he might laugh 
 
 And find amusement in the writhing pain 
 
 Of dying men ; of Nero, who devis d 
 
 Tortures for his own Romans, op d the veins 780 
 
 Of calm philosophers, to see them bear 
 
 The last chill ague, lighted up the fires 
 
 With wretched Christians, wrapt in robes of pitch, 
 
 To serve as blazing torches through the night 
 
 For scoffing Rome Oh ! had the Indians heard 
 
 Of deeds like these, they would reject the charge, 
 
 That they alone, above all men, were stain d 
 
 With dark barbarity. Say ! could they learn 
 
 Aught merciful from those, whose impious hands 
 
 Stretch d out before their eye, on burning coals, 790 
 
 Firm Guatamozin, the once happy prince 
 
 Of Mexico who through the echoing wilds 
 
124 
 
 Hunted the flying natives with their dogs 
 Train d to the scent of blood ? 
 
 Those forest sons 
 
 Taught from their youth, to twine the vengeful creed 
 With the soul s honour, shrink not to demand 
 Sternly, like ancient Israel, eye for eye, 
 And life for life. Their rash, misguided hands 
 Rais d for retaliation, in blind wrath 
 And ignorance, with no controuling force 800 
 
 Of heav n-taught precept, oft are deeply stain d 
 With cruelty. But how shall we excuse 
 The deeds of favour d Christians ? those who hear 
 And promise to obey that law of love, 
 Whose precepts bind its votary not to hate, 
 Or persecute, but render the meek pray r 
 And patient deed of mercy ! 
 
 What can shield 
 
 The dark ferocity of papal Rome, 
 At first so lamb-like, but so soon transforrn d 
 To a devouring monster, mad with blood, 810 
 
 Driving to dens, and caves, and rocky cliffs 
 Of pitying Piedmont, a defenceless band 
 Call d by that Saviour s name, whom she profess d 
 To worship and adore ! Has earth a cell, 
 
125 
 
 In her deep centre, dark enough to hide 
 
 The racks, the tortures, and the streaming blood 
 
 Of the dire Inquisition ? What pure stream, 
 
 Or sprinkling priest, or holy mass can cleanse 
 
 The guilty Bastile ? where Despair detain d 
 
 The wretched captives, till their wasted forms 820 
 
 Became as cold, and rigid as the stone 
 
 That bound their prisons ! What melodious voice 
 
 Can hush the death-groans of the Cambrian bards, 
 
 Thy prey, stern Edward ! slain with their meek hands 
 
 Prest on their harps, and pouring in sweet strains 
 
 The simple music of their native vales, 
 
 Thoughtless of ill ? 
 
 Where is a veil to spread 
 O er the red visage, and the spotted robes 
 Of France, wild rushing thro the frantic scenes 
 Of revolution, steeping o er and o er 830 
 
 Her clotted tresses, in the blood of kings. 
 Singing discordant madrigals, to drown 
 The death-shrieks of her sons, or hasting on 
 To plant her reeking standards o er the walls 
 Of trembling, bleeding Germany. 
 
 And thou, 
 My Country ! what has thy example been ? 
 
126 
 
 Thou, who hast sometimes sent thy men of peace, 
 To warn the savage of His holy will, 
 Who hath no pleasure in the ways of wrath, 
 Revenge, or cruelty ? S40 
 
 The answer speeds 
 
 On the wild winds which rais d red clouds of flame, 
 
 In awful volumes from the peaceful roofs 
 
 Of sad Muskingum ; 36 in deep tones it sighs 
 
 From those who visit the deserted bounds 
 
 Of the slain Creeks ; 3 7 and from the troubled grave 
 
 Of Malaanthee, s8 in low, hollow sounds 
 
 Murmuring it rises, " Lo ! Behold the men 
 
 Who knew, and published the pure word of peace, 
 
 Yet kept it not !" 39 Say, did the spectre form 
 
 Of Malaanthee, break no nightly dream, 850 
 
 Ye murd rers ? Did those aged features, stern 
 
 In Death s convulsion, and those few, grey hairs 
 
 Matted with blood, ne er glare through midnight s pall 
 
 Before your straining eyes, till ye have curst 
 
 The ghost, that seem d to multiply itself 
 
 Where er ye turn d ? Amid your orgies rude, 
 
 Has Earth ne er yavvn d beneath your reeling feet, 
 
 And from the chasm, a dead arm slowly ris n, 
 
 Bearing a crimson scroll ? That scroll ye knew I 
 
127 
 
 And once the signet of mild peace it bore ; 860 
 
 Blaz d it now in fiery characters 
 
 " Heav n s Justice ?" Did your trembling joints unloose. 
 
 And smile together, like that impious king 
 
 Who, mid his revel, in mysterious lines 
 
 Saw shudd ring, by dismember d fingers trac d, 
 
 His hast ning doom ? 
 
 What piercing shrieks of woe, 
 
 Break from those bounds, where clustering foliage shades 
 The Chehaw villages ! 40 A moment since, 
 And all was peace. Those simple, lowly cells, 
 And cultivated gardens, seem d the abode 870 
 
 Of rural happiness. Now, the green turf 
 Where spring was strewing her pure blossoms, reeks 
 With living crimson. On the furrow d field, 
 Which his own hands were planting, sudden falls 
 The unarm d father. His young children shriek 
 Around their dwelling, and th unconscious babes 
 Cling to their captive mothers. Angry bands 
 Urge wide the work of death. TirM day declines 
 Yet still their hands unshrinking, clench the sword, 
 Reeking in gore. The hasty, restless night 880 
 
 Sat on their wrecks unslumb ring, and the Sun 
 Look d with pale glance upon the sanguine Morn, 
 
128 
 
 Rousing new deeds of guilt. Devouring flames 
 
 Involve each dwelling. Blazing columns rise, 
 
 Promiscuous, glaring o er the lurid sky. 
 
 Wild shouts of terror, agonizing flight, 
 
 Unequal conflict, groans of gasping death, 
 
 Vary the awful drama. Wreaths of smoke 
 
 Curtain dim Twilight, and affrighted Eve 
 
 Lighted by fury, and unnat ral lamps 890 
 
 Sinks on her couch. Reluctant rays illume 
 
 The third dark day ofhorrour. Ruin wrings 
 
 Her bitterest dregs. The sword is cloy d with blood, 
 
 The flames are famish d ; the scorch d foliage droops 
 
 Over a black drear desert, and no voice 
 
 Of rustic labour, or of cheerful song 
 
 Survives. O er calcin d ruins, steep d in gore, 
 
 Stalks Desolation ; while no sound disturbs 
 
 His drear dominion, save the heavy tramp 
 
 Of haughty victors, save the shrill response 900 
 
 Of pipe, and drum, and clarion, clamouring loud, 
 
 Triumphant joy. I see the thronging band 
 
 Emerging from the vale ; their banners float 
 
 Amid the forest, and a captive train 
 
 Helpless, and weeping, follow. 
 
129 
 
 Who are these, 
 
 Red from the bloody wine-press, with its stains 
 Darkening their raiment ? Yet I dare not ask 
 Their clime and lineage, lest the accusing blasts, 
 Waking the angry echoes, should reply 
 " Thy Countrymen !" 910 
 
130 
 
 As when long ling ring on some lonely cliff 
 
 Of stormy Hebrid, or where rocky Hoy 
 
 Heaves with unbanner d brow, a mighty mass 
 
 Like tow ring pyramid, whose apex gleams 
 
 With magic lustre, like the ancient lance 
 
 Of some Norse chieftain, summoning the force 
 
 Of scatter d Orcades ; or from the crest 
 
 Of dread Ronaldi, which like eaglet proud 
 
 Soars o er North-Maven, wreathing round his crest 
 
 Those dazzling sun-beams, which but faintly smile 10 
 
 On wintry Zetland, with abstracted gaze 
 
 Some anxious wand rer eyes the tossing main 
 
 Lash d lay a recent tempest, and descries 
 
 The frequent-floating wreck, and swollen corse 
 
 Borne on the angry surge, till his sad heart 
 
 Shuddering within his tortur d bosom loathes 
 
 The awful prospect, thus my spirit shrinks 
 
 From scenes of cruelty ! Cold horror creeps 
 
 Over my sick ning frame, and my dim eye 
 
131 
 
 Turns from the glare of carnage, turns from those 20 
 
 Who knew the law of mercy, yet effac d 
 
 Its precepts with their swords. Once more it seeks 
 
 The outcast Indian, who hath never heard 
 
 His Saviour s will. 
 
 It seeks, but he is gone ! 
 
 Like the light vapour trembling o er the lakes 
 
 He vanishes ! No more his fishing line 
 
 Breaks the fair surface of thy chrystal breast, 
 
 Ontario ! nor his rapid bark descends 
 
 The rolling Hudson. Silent is the shout 
 
 Of the glad hunter, in the forest shades 30 
 
 Of Susquehannah. What has crush d the pride 
 
 Of great Potomac s chieftain ? What has swept 
 
 The mighty Mohawk, 1 and fierce Delaware 2 
 
 From their own realms ? Why is thy boundless vale, 
 
 Shenandoah, tenantless ? Thy silver wave, 
 
 Bold Rappahannock, why does it reflect 
 
 No more, those dark red features ? 
 
 Hear ye not 
 
 A sighing spirit from that distant bourn 
 Whence there is no return, as if the winds 
 Moan d deep and hollow thro some broken arch 40 
 With mould ring moss o ergrown ! 
 
132 
 
 " Oh! ye who tread 
 O er our forgotten ashes, who behold 
 Our sons renounce their birthright, and forsake 
 The shade of buried glory, ye have reft 
 Their ancient freedom, can ye lead their souls 
 To liberty and light ? Their heritage 
 On earth ye cancel ; oh ! provide a home 
 In future worlds. Life s pilgrimage to them 
 Is darkness ; will ye lend that lamp which gilds 
 The vale of death ? To them, the hand of Time 50 
 Yields but the cup of sorrow ; can ye guide 
 To a sure refuge on the hastening shores 
 Of dread Eternity ?" 
 
 Behold the appeal 
 
 Already heeded ! As the gleaming bow 
 Paints its soft emerald on the fading storm. 
 Presage of calmness, thus thro dusky clouds 
 A heavenly radiance sheds its infant beams, 
 And the dark desert smiles. Thine eye beheld 
 Its dawn, meek Eliot ! 3 with enraptur d glance 
 Of gratitude intense, as mark d the Seer 60 
 
 From Pisgah s hallow d cliff, the glorious scene 
 Of Israel s heritage ; tho o er his path 
 The sable wings of Death s dark angel wav d 
 
133 
 
 In shadowy gloom. Like that blest prototype, 
 
 Thou too didst strive to rend the tyrant chain 
 
 Of heathen bondage, urge the chrystal stream 
 
 Forth from the flinty rock, to famish d souls 
 
 Impart the bread of Heaven ; and as he bade 
 
 The writhing victims of the scorpion gaze 
 
 On their mysterious healer, thou didst point 70 
 
 The eye of Satan s miserable prey 
 
 Up to the Crucified. Thou too didst give 
 
 The holy tables of th eternal Law, 
 
 Not with the awe of Sinai s wrath announc d, 
 
 Deep earthquakes, thund ring voices, lightning s flame 
 
 Insufferable ; but silver dwith the tinge 
 
 Of the mild gospel s brightness. From thy brow 
 
 Darted no beam unearthly, which the throng 
 
 Dar d not approach, no mandate stern proclaim d 
 
 " This do, or die :" but thy redeeming scroll 80 
 
 In gentler dispensation, meekly trac d 
 
 With sacred pen, 4 inspired the message kind, 
 
 " My children, love each other." 
 
 Not in vain, 
 
 Apostle of the Gentiles ! was thy toil, 
 Nor on the light breath of the erring winds 
 Thy supplications lost. The deep-drawn sigh 
 12 
 
134 
 
 Of thy departing soul 5 rose with its flight 
 
 To the approving Throne, that God would grant 
 
 Thy churches in the wilderness to live, 
 
 When thou wert dead. Then other pious hearts 90 
 
 Pitied the outcasts ; other guides appeared 
 
 To lead the shepherdless. The Mayhews rose, 6 
 
 Clad in the armour of the Prince of Peace, 
 
 To cope with the proud spirit of the world, 
 
 Thron d on high places. The poor Indians hail d 
 
 Their holy footsteps, and the Island vine 
 
 Planted by them, in thick ning clusters breath d 
 
 Salvation s fragrance. 
 
 Dying Mitark 7 blest 
 
 Their faithful ministry, when his spent breath 
 Welcom d that messenger which bore his soul 100 
 
 Where Mercy, higher than the sinner s hope, 
 Prepares his mansion. Nor this Prince alone. 
 Bore witness to the ardour of their zeal ; 
 Flocks sought their fold, and from the tempest s pow r 
 And lion s wrath, found shelter. At their words. 
 Reasoning of righteousness, of temperance, 
 And judgment-doom, the fount of penitence 
 O er rugged features pour d a tearful tide 8 
 New and profuse. Thus gush d in later days, 
 
135 
 
 In rapid course, the heart s unwonted stream, 110 
 
 Washing white channels down the dusky cheeks 
 
 Of Cornwall s collier throng, when Whitfield s voice 
 
 With daring eloquence, first taught the soul 
 
 To startle at her danger. Thus they toil d, 
 
 In happy unison. But from the Sire 
 
 The Son is sever d. His majestic form 
 
 Veil d in dim distance, drooping seems to pass 
 
 Neath the devouring wave. 9 With hoary locks 
 
 Swept by the winds, the lonely father roves, 
 
 Pale, in suspended Hope, while his fix d eye 120 
 
 Questions th unanswering surge. But faith uplifts 
 
 That eye, mild whisp ring what sustain d the heart 
 
 Of Nazianzen s sire, " Thy son hath gone, 
 
 To take possession of that fair estate 
 
 Which thou hast gain d in Heaven." 
 
 The natives wept 
 
 O er their kind Prophets graves ; but the wild blast 
 Rent not their falling mantle. Others wrapt 
 Its silvery folds around them, and imbib d 
 Its hidden spirit. Brainerd woke in youth, 10 
 To search for the neglected, and to lead 130 
 
 The wandering blind. His self-devoting zeal 
 Shrunk not at hardship, at the withering blast 
 
156 
 
 Of wan Disease, at Disappointment s frown, 
 
 Nor at those deeper sorrows which depress 
 
 The mourning soul, when thro impervious gloom 
 
 She seeks that Everlasting Friend, who seems 
 
 To have forsaken her. Around his life 
 
 Strong bonds by friendship and by love were drawn, 
 
 But rising o er those ties, the list ning youth 
 
 Heard mid the silence of his midnight prayer 140 
 
 The angel s salutation, " Spirit, rise ! 
 
 Pure Spirit j haste to us!" and who could blame 
 
 The mortal, if that seraph melody 
 
 Prevail d ? 
 
 Nor yet did early days confine 
 That generous ardour. Like the rushing wind 
 And tongue of flame, those high, mysterious gifts 
 Of Pentecost, it rested on a few, 
 And markM them from the world. 
 
 Heckewelder toil d, 
 
 Girt with his Master s patience, 1 1 while slow years 
 Stamp d changes on his brow. Kind Advocate 150 
 Of the despis d Lemipe, thou didst dare 
 Like Howard, bold philanthropist, to " take 
 Misery s dimensions, and the guage of scorn. 
 Depression and contempt, to seek the coll 
 
137 
 
 Of the forsaken, and with pitying heart 
 Remember the forgotten." 
 
 Mid the band 
 
 Who visited the desolate, and bore 
 Glad tidings to the lost, one Man of God 
 Journey d at closing day. Deep shadows slretch d 
 Their lengthening cones to veil his vent rous path, 160 
 And in stern majesty, those stately oaks, 
 Whose interwoven branches sought the clouds, 
 Frown d darker still. The silence of his path 
 Invited lonely musing, and the truths 
 Of his blest mission, passing o er his heart, 
 Gave joy to solitude. But a rude sound 
 Disturb d his meditations, as the gale 
 Of Summer s sudden wrath disperses wide 
 The flowers, whose petals tranquilly were clos d 
 Around their dewy treasures. Wild it rush d 170 
 
 From a high cliff, which like some ruin d arch 
 Seem d with its mould ring pediment to threat 
 Th unwary traveller. 
 
 From that steep which seem d 
 No path for human foot, fierce, heavy steps 
 Came boldly down. The thicket foliage parts. 
 And thro the sever d curtain slalk d a form 
 12* 
 
138 
 
 Of mighty size. Not with a prouder port 
 
 Rush d red King Philip to the battle strife, 
 
 Hurling defiance. His distorted brow 
 
 Seem d scath d with lightning, tho his temples bore ISO 
 
 The frosts of Age. His giant arm he rear d 
 
 In threat ning gesture, while a hollow voice 
 
 Utter d its thunders 
 
 " Whither goest thou ? 
 Son of the Ocean foam !* 12 
 
 " I go, to speak 
 
 Salvation to thy race, and bear the word 
 That breathes good will and peace." Indignant fire. 
 Flashing from the grim Chieftain s eye, announc d 
 
 His kindled wrath 
 
 " What peace thou bring st I know ! 
 Such as we found, when from thy serpent glance 
 We shrunk away, and all our countless tribes 190 
 
 Faded, like morning mist. Good-will thou bear st ? 
 We find it in the grave ! It marshals there 
 Our murder d warriors. There was once a time 
 Of happiness for Indians, ere thy race 
 Invaded their retreat. Freely they roam d 
 Hunting the beaver, and the dun wild deer 
 In their own forests. Then thy fathers sprang 
 
133 
 
 Forth from the slippery surge, and their pale brows 
 
 Smote us like pestilence. Infernal arms 
 
 They wielded, like the thunder-bolt surcharged 200 
 
 With fatal fires. In war, we were their prey, 
 
 As beasts for slaughter, and in peace their sport, 
 
 The victims of their poison. Mighty Chiefs 
 
 And fearless hunters, who like blasts had swept 
 
 The trembling mountains, dar d th unequal fight 
 
 And perish d. Our degen rate race became 
 
 Slaves to intemperance, hiding in disgrace 
 
 A wither d name. Hence then, contagious man ! 
 
 Leave us what still is ours ! Leave us our gods, 
 
 Our savage virtues! Leave the blighted hopes 210 
 
 That cling around our hearts ! Spare these rude plants, 
 
 Those only wrecks that have withstood the storm 
 
 Of your destructive friendship." 
 
 In dark shades 
 
 Vanish d the Chief majestic, with such speed 
 As whirlwinds trace the desert. Calmly past 
 The man of God, revolving with meek thought 
 His holy purpose, while a pray r besought 
 Strength gainst the potent Spirit of the Air, 
 Who, like a Prince, doth rule the wayward sons 
 Of disobedience. As the Shepherd seeks 220 
 
140 
 
 The lost and wandering sheep, this good man sought 
 
 The scatter d Senecas ; with tender zeal, 
 
 Or admonition blent with terror, strove 
 
 To rouse the stupid, to alarm the bold, 
 
 T illume the ignorant. A little flock, 
 
 Drawn from the wilderness, his call obey d, 
 
 Following his footsteps in the patient course 
 
 Of Christian duty. Forty moons had shed 
 
 A varying lustre o er their sheltered path, 
 
 From verdant pasture to translucent stream, 230 
 
 Where their souls found repose. 
 
 At length, a cloud 
 
 Involved their sanctu ry ; its simple court 
 Was desolate. None enter d there with songs 
 Of sacred joy, no kneeling sufferer sigh d 
 In penitence : but solitary sat 
 Their pensive Pastor, while the Sabbath call 
 No more was heeded. Now and then he mark d 
 Some lonely wanderer, stealing near the spot 
 Which prayer had hallo w d, gazing as in grief, 
 Then gliding slow away. Thus the sad race 240 
 
 Of subjugated Judah, bent the glance 
 Of speechless, hopeless, agonizing woe, 
 On that beloved city, which their step 
 
141 
 
 Dar d not approach. 1 3 The wond ring Teacher sought 
 
 His erring charge, and with an anxious zeal 
 
 Painted the terrors of the day of God 
 
 To those who slight his mercy, who reject 
 
 The knowledge of salvation. Struck with awe 
 
 The recreants wept, hut ling ring doubt maintained 
 
 A darken d influence. 250 
 
 " Ah !" they cried, " fierce wrath 
 
 Burncth against us. Deeply have we wrong d 
 
 Our Fathers God. From those tremendous cliffs 
 
 Where Alleghany wounds the streaming cloud, 
 
 A Prophet hath he sent, denouncing woe 
 
 On us Apostates. Our sad chiefs have nam d 
 
 A day of audience, when this fearful man 
 
 Bearing his message, shall denounce the ire 
 
 Of the great Spirit." The meek Teacher paus d, 
 
 Remembering how the servants, one by one, 
 
 Forsook his Master and his Lord, who stood 260 
 
 Abandon d and alone. 
 
 Then he replied 
 
 In that kind tone, with which griev d Love reproves ; 
 " I to this audience go, if ye permit ; 
 I, all deserted by my cherish d flock 
 Will meet that Prophet, and declare the words 
 
142 
 
 Of the Chief Shepherd." The appointed time 
 
 Arriv d, when sceptic Fear no more might halt 
 
 Between the Christian s God, and that false name 
 
 Whom Pagans worship. Church, nor council-house 
 
 Might hold the multitude, 14 so vast a throng 270 
 
 Came flocking to behold th important die 
 
 Cast, that involv d their fate. Gay Summer s pride 
 
 Had rob d an ample vale, whose circling bound 
 
 Was crown d by hills. There graceful foliage droop d. 
 
 And o er its bosom wound a limpid stream, 
 
 Like sparkling, chrystal zone. Thither they went. 
 
 Beneath the shade of an embow ring elm 
 
 Whose pendant branches met the silent tide, 
 
 The Chieftains rang d. Deep thought was on their brow, 
 
 As those whose minds revolv d a nation s fate. 280 
 
 The people gather d near, with anxious looks 
 
 Regarding their wise men, while the mute gaze 
 
 Of agoniz d suspense, seem d to inquire 
 
 " Which was the God ?" as wavering Pilate s lips 
 
 Demanded, " What is Truth ?" 
 
 Lone in the midst 
 
 Of this wild circle, with unruffled brow 
 -Sat the good Missionary. Age and Toil 
 Had set their signet on him* Travel and Care 
 
143 
 
 Trac d channels for the tear, and furrow d deep 
 Those sunken temples, where a few white hairs 290 
 Spread their disrupted shield. 
 
 An hope sublime 
 
 Beam d from his lifted eye, which seem d in prayer 
 Fix d and expectant, that the God of Truth 
 Would vindicate his servant. Silence reign d 
 Breathless and long, save where the trembling boughs 
 Sigh d to the south-wind, or the rippling tide 
 Half murmur d. Suddenly a smother d sound 
 Like deep Astonishment, or moaning Fear, 
 Broke from the multitude. Down the rough steep 
 Was seen descending a tremendous form 300 
 
 With frantic haste. His lifted hand he wav d 
 Commanding silence, and the wailing ceas d, 
 As if in Death. With countenance serene 
 The Missionary mark d him, and beheld 
 In Alleghany s Seer, the same stern Chief 
 Who with mysterious step had cross d his path 
 In Tuscarora s forests. The same skin 
 Of the wild panther from his shoulders hung 
 In careless drapery, quivered in his hand 
 The same keen tomahawk, from his red eye 310 
 
144 
 
 Darted the same malignant glance, inflanvd 
 
 With rage like frenzy. Chill d to icy awe 
 
 The natives listen d, while the valley rang 
 
 With his hoarse voice, " Men of the Forest ! Hear ! 
 
 Thus saith the Mighty Spirit. Ye were mine, 
 
 But have forsaken me. Once o er this land 
 
 Your fathers reign d, lords of the treasur d deep, 
 
 And of the peopled forest. To their sons 
 
 They left the inheritance. But I behold 
 
 Steps of Usurpers desolate those paths, 320 
 
 And hear your hunting-fields resound the stroke 
 
 Of their destructive axe ! Why have ye fled 
 
 From the delights of the luxuriant shore 
 
 To swamps and barren hills ? crouching to hold 
 
 Ev n this polluted pittance, at the will 
 
 Of the vile white Man ! To my ears no more 
 
 Rises the shout of war from Hudson s banks, 
 
 Or revelry from Mohawk s silver tide. 
 
 There, where your Fathers, free as the wild winds, 
 That rock d their mountains, dwelt, the Christian slave 
 Drives his deep furrow, whistling as he turns 331 
 
 Forth from the trembling, violated grave, 
 Their sacred relics. Have ye never heard 
 
At closing day,or in the solemn watch 
 Of midnight, a melodious, plaintive strain 
 Stealing from lonely vale, or hillock side, 
 Like Echo s cadence f Twas the wailing tone 
 Of your departed fathers ; they whose bones 
 These merciless invaders leave to bleach 
 By tempest and by blast. It calls their sons 340 
 
 By deeds of righteous vengeance to restore 
 The wand ring spirit to its bow rs of bliss : 
 For there it may not rest, if aught disturb 
 The mouldering body s sleep, or violate 
 Its sepulchre. This voice invokes the brave. 
 The mighty, the invincible, in vain ; 
 For none are left. Behold ! what glorious gifts 
 Ye owe to white men. What good-will and peace 
 They shed upon you ! Exile and the sword ! 
 Poisons and rifled sepulchres ! and see ! 350 
 
 They fain would fill the measure of their guilt 
 With the dark cheat of that accursed faith 
 Whose precepts justify their nameless crimes, 
 Your countless woes. Hearken, deluded race ! 
 Hearken, for the last time ! If ye persist 
 Thus to desert my altars, thus to choose 
 With mad credulity th oppressor s God, 
 13 
 
146 
 
 And follow Him, my wrath shall follow ^ou. 
 
 My forked lightnings mid your blazing towns 
 
 Fiercely shall dart, and Winter s warring blast 360 
 
 Devour the fugitives. Intemperance 
 
 Shall bloat your frames, gaunt Famine thin your ranks, 
 
 Till the surviving wretches, plunging deep 
 
 And deeper in the wild, submit to hold 
 
 Communion with the dastard beasts that fled 
 
 Their fathers arrows. From the blissful isle 
 
 In that pure lake, where happy spirits hold 
 
 Eternal pastime, thro unfading fields 
 
 Hunting the gaily-branched deer, with dogs 
 
 Swifter than light, from thence the blasting curse 370 
 
 Shall fall on you. Ah ! fear ye not the eye 
 
 Of your great ancestors that with ring glance 
 
 Which drinks the spirit up ? By lightning s flame, 
 
 By thunder s voice, by tempest s wrath, I swear, 
 
 That in the space of sixty hasting moons, 
 
 Not one of all the Senecas, not one 
 
 Of you who hear me, one of these your babes. 
 
 Nor kindred, shall be found upon the face 
 
 Of the wide earth." 
 
 He ceas cl, and mingled sounds 
 Like the hoarse rush of waters and of winds, 380 
 
147 
 
 Rose from the multitude. Distorting Fear 
 
 Dealt her deep ague; clamorous Ignorance 
 
 Moan d in convulsions ; Superstition glar d 
 
 As if the death-groans of the threatened tribe 
 
 Already bursting on her wounded ear 
 
 Transfix d her soul with agony ; while Rage, 
 
 Kindled with breath of fiery Eloquence, 
 
 Made rashness mad. Headlong the boldest rush d 
 
 From the torn circle, to demand the blood 
 
 Of the good Missionary. Calm he met 390 
 
 Their fatal purpose, nor essay d to shun 
 
 Their iron grasp 
 
 " Father ! if thus thy voice 
 Call st thy weak servant from his weary toil, 
 Thy will be done ! Thy hand will gird his heart 
 To meet its martyrdom." 
 
 Perchance the light 
 
 Which round his temples play d, was that which beam d 
 On holy Stephen s brow, when he beheld 
 Eritranc d, the op ning heavens, and Jesus Christ 
 Sitting at God s right hand. But the grave Chiefs 
 Forbade th unrighteous deed, and with a word 400 
 Rescued the victim. Forth the Man of God 
 Came, as in act to speak. His sacred form 
 
148 
 
 Bent for a moment in Devotion s warmth 
 
 Of gratitude to Heaven, his clasping hands 
 
 Prest on his bosom, while his mien exprest 
 
 That perfect peace, which the world s smile gives not-, 
 
 Nor can her frown destroy. Near him in wrath 
 
 Stood Alleghany s prophet. It might seem 
 
 Almost, as if in solemn contrast rose, 
 
 Ebal, the mount of cursing, tow ring dark 410 
 
 O er the appall d assembly, while the breast 
 
 Of fruitful Gerizim thro waving shades 
 
 Sigh d blessings on th obedient. 
 
 That faint smile 
 
 Divinely casting intellectual light 
 O er the pale features of the Man of God, 
 Blent with his eye s unearthly glance, convey d 
 Tranquil monition that he soon should bid 
 Farewell to ills of Time. Then ere he spake, 
 Upon his foes a deep regard he cast 
 Of mild forgiveness; as our Saviour turn d 420 
 
 And look d on Peter. Unresisted chains 
 Of silence bound the circle, while a voice 
 Of sweetest modulation, sonorous, 
 Tender or plaintive, as the varying theme 
 Requir d, broke forth 
 
149 
 
 " Ah ! would that I could speak 
 So that ye would believe, of the true God, 
 Whose eye is ever on us, and whose ear 
 Heareth our secret thoughts. His hand ye trace 
 In mercy on the beauteous earth ; his pow r 
 Ye cannot comprehend, for He alone 430 
 
 Is infinite. Would that my feeble mind 
 Could paint his Heav n, so that ye all might seek 
 That blest abode, where dwell the pure in heart ; 
 For there dire Winter comes not, sultry heat, 
 Nor withering famine, pain, nor parting tear, 
 Sickness, nor ghastly death. There the free soul 
 Shall drink of boundless, everlasting bliss 
 When yonder sun must fall, and this fair sky 
 Parch like a shrivell d scroll. Ye too have heard 
 Of that dire place which Justice hath prepar d 440 
 
 For vile, rebellious spirits. There are tears, 
 Wailings, unceasing groans, and tortures dire, 
 And troubled tossings like th unresting sea, 
 While the far echoes of the songs of Heaven 
 Steal o er the gulf impassable, and wake 
 Hopeless remorse. Think, O my brethren, think I 
 Of Him who freely gave his life, that Man 
 Might scape this sorrow, and obtain that bliss. 
 
150 
 
 Remember ye his lot of homeless woe ? 
 His uncomplaining, unreviling life? 450 
 
 The thorns that pierc d him, the deep-wounding spear ? 
 For ye have heard his sufferings, and have wept 
 In better days, that He for you should bleed. 
 Yes! ye have knelt to thank and bless that God 
 Who so had lov d the world, that he should give 
 His only Son to save it. Ye have said 
 That the wild savage roaming on in blood, 
 Blindness, and vengeful passions, till dark life 
 Sunk in a darker grave, bereft of hope, 
 Was far less happy than the humble saint 400 
 
 Bowing in patience to the bond which curbs 
 His sinful spirit, and with active hand 
 Pouring out Love on Hatred, till it melt, 
 And be no more remember d. Ye have joy d 
 To hear, that he might lead his little ones 
 Through light and knowledge to eternal rest. 
 Have ye not seen him grateful for this life, 
 Yet undismay d at death ? His spirit lov d 
 The blest assurance that its short eclipse 
 Should fleet before the resurrection morn ; 470 
 
 Therefore he slept in hope. Ye soon must yield 
 \ r our bodies to the worm : Oh ! then believe 
 
151 
 
 What ye have once believ d, for that was truth. 
 
 Behold, as the frail Day-beam hastes to lay 
 
 Its fainting head on Twilight s dusky lap. 
 
 So fades our life. Return, ye wand ring flock ! 
 
 That He, who is so plenteous to forgive, 
 
 May turn to you. And now, Eternal Judge ! 
 
 What wait I for ? Look thou upon my heart, 
 
 And see if love for those whom thou hast made, 480 
 
 Led me from sweet delights of home, to bear 
 
 Here in my age, when Nature seeks repose, 
 
 Journeyings and watchings in the wilderness, 
 
 Perils and dangers. Thou alone canst read 
 
 The Missionary s motive, which the world 
 
 Oft misinterprets. Lord, into thy hand 
 
 Commend I thine own cause." 
 
 Bowing he ceas d, 
 
 But Silence listen d : fond Expectancy 
 Still linger d mute, so soothing fell the balm 
 On harrow d bosoms. Thus the genial show r 490 
 And holy dew, refresh the sterile earth 
 Parch d by long drought, or by tornado stript 
 Of her young verdure. O er rough features mark d 
 By recent passions, stole the contrite tear, 
 Strange, yet unheeded. Long the Chieftains held 
 
152 
 
 Their solemn conclave, ere the question high 
 Might be decided. Mid that awful pause, 
 Fears, apprehensions, terrors, anxious hopes, 
 Convuls d the throng. The second hour had drawn 
 Its tardy length, when from the council came 509 
 
 Its hoariest Chieftain. On his head he bore 
 The crown of Age, and leaning on his staff 
 
 Utter d the words of wisdom 
 
 " That great God, 
 
 Whom Christians call Jehovah, is more just, 
 Mighty, beneficent, worthy of praise, 
 Than him your Fathers worshipp d. So receive 
 The Christian s God : and in his servant view 
 Your guide to Heaven." 
 
 Then, the adoring tribe, 
 As a thick forest to some mighty wind 
 Pays universal rev rence, bow d the head 51CF 
 
 And worshipp d God. Thus witness d Carmel s mount 
 Such solemn homage, when in ancient time 
 Backsliding Israel saw the priests of Baal 
 Humbled, and awful fires confirm the claim 
 Of the majestic Prophet : He who stood 
 Lonely and fearless, to confront the wrath 
 Of impious Jezebel s demoniac throng, 
 
153 
 
 He, who on car of flame, like glowing star 
 
 High o er the empyrean rising, mark d 
 
 A glorious path, shunning the gloomy gates 520 
 
 Of Death s dark confine. 
 
 When that hoary Chief 
 Had utter d the decree, who may describe 
 What fierce demoniac rage possest the Seer 
 Of Alleghany ? His red eye-ball roll d 
 As if in torment, while thro gnashing teeth 
 He strove with madd ning impotence to force 
 The curse unutterable, and bounding high 
 With brandish d Tomahawk, as if he scorn d 
 The soil of such apostates, disappear d 
 Mid the deep forest shadows. 530 
 
154 
 
 Joys not the Mariner 
 
 When on the midnight of his trackless course 
 Mid rocks and quicksands of a coast unknown 
 The far-seen light-house beams a star of hope 
 Into his soul ? Upon the Mourner s tear, 
 When Resignation sheds her holiest dew, 
 Rises there not a trembling messenger 
 Of Joy, because the passing storm hath wav d 
 Its wing in peace ? When to the humble Saint 
 Whose pilgrimage was darkness, whose weak Faith 
 Scarce saw a twilight which the hand of Fear 10 
 
 Rob d not in gloom, the vale of Death displays 
 
 Eternal Glory s never-setting sun 1 
 
 Is there not Joy ? Oh ! then exult for them, 
 That abject race, who o er the storms of life, 
 The night of sorrow, and the hopeless tomb. 
 Beheld Salvation s radiance. O er the wild 
 Where Paganism long triumph d, rearing high 
 His desolating ensign, the pure Cross 
 
155 
 
 Extends its arms, and kneeling at its foot 
 
 The Indian hymns his Maker. Sweet that tone 20 
 
 Ascends from the lone forest, where conven d 
 
 Beneath their chapel s dedicated dome 
 
 Oneida s natives pay their vows to God. 1 
 
 There they adore that Name, which from the dawH 
 
 Of the Sun s brightness, to the farthest bound 
 
 Of his remote declension, shall be great 
 
 Among the Gentiles. There with raptur d voice 
 
 Ascribe high praises for the means of grace, 
 
 And hope of glory. There, confess with shame 
 
 That as the wandering sheep forsakes the fold, 36 
 
 They all have stray d ; and there His aid invoke 
 
 Who the deep sighing of the contrite heart 
 
 Despises not, nor scorns the humble tear 
 
 Of Penitence. There supplicate their Lord 
 
 By his deep agony, his bloody sweat, 
 
 His cross and passion, by his precious death, 
 
 Burial and resurrection, to behold 
 
 And spare them in his mercy. There present 
 
 To the baptismal font their tender babes ; 
 
 And, kneeling round a Saviour s table, pay 40 
 
 Homage to Him who in his boundless love 
 
 Appointed such remembrance. When the rod 
 
156 
 
 Of Sickness rests upon them, holy prayer 
 
 From consecrated lips beseech of God 
 
 To strengthen by his Spirit, the decay 
 
 Of that which perisheth, and grant the soul 
 
 Remission of its sins, ere it depart 
 
 To be on earth no more. And, when the lamp 
 
 Of frail mortality is quench d, when man, 
 
 Who like the fleeting shadow ne er abides 50 
 
 In one continued stay, when he who comes 
 
 Forth as a flow ret to the blushing morn 
 
 Ere the quick-hasting hour of eve, returns 
 
 Ashes to ashes o er the mouldering wreck 
 
 Hope lifts her banner, cloudless as the light, 
 
 Bright with these characters of heavenly truth : 
 
 The slumberer shall awake ; the unseal d eye 
 
 See its Redeemer ; and although the worm 
 
 Destroy this body, yet the dust shall rise , / 
 
 To Immortality. 60 
 
 Hail, holy hearts ! 
 
 Who, fill d with pure benevolence, rejoice^ 
 That the green olive decks the rugged brows 
 Of the dark forest children, let that zeal 
 Which prompts for them your charity, unite 
 The useful arts of life with love divine, 
 
157 
 
 Gifts for this world, with knowledge of the next. 
 Take lessons from Creation ; from the skill 
 Of the Eternal, who hath bound so strict 
 Body with mind. Thou strong, mysterious chain ! 
 Linking dull matter to the viewless, pure, 70 
 
 And subtle spirit, dost thou not instruct 
 Us in our bounty not to disunite 
 Terrestrial and divine ? Those secret flames, 
 Which guided Gideon s darkly hostile path, 
 Were hid in earthen caskets : thus the soul 
 Hath no unmix d ascendancy, till death, 
 Rending the veil of clay, bids her return 
 To her creative essence. Wisdom s hand 
 Heweth out pillars, when she rears the house 
 Whose dome is for the skies :* and thus a prop 
 Might e en sublime Christianity receive 
 From her more earthly sisters ; from the arm 
 Of simple agriculture, from the toil 
 Of patient industry, from every art 
 That sheds a charm on life. Behold the plan 
 Of Wisdom heeded ; see a sacred band 
 In our own days bear to the darken d wild 
 Those blended rays which cheer man s path below, 
 Yet light it to the skies. 
 14 
 
158 
 
 Blest were the steps 
 
 Of these propitious heralds o er the vales 90 
 
 Of wat ry Tennessee, raptur d their tone 
 Proclaiming liberty to the sad souls 
 Bound in the prison-house. Humbly they went, 
 Like Him who pour d the gospel s pardoning voice 
 On publicans and sinners, mild forgave 
 Guilt at whose sight the accusing Pharisee 
 High rais d the fatal stone, and shed that tear 
 Which sanctions human grief, o er the clos d grave 
 Of Bethany. Meek to their mission bow d 
 These teachers like their Lord ; yet not like Him, 100 
 Who had not where to lay his head, were scorn d. 
 He came unto his own, bearing the seal 
 Of mercy, but their sacrilegious hands 
 Refus d the gift, and madly crucified 
 The Giver ; they with grateful joy were hail d 
 By the sad stranger s moaning on the wild 3 
 Like Rachel, weeping o er her children lost, 
 And shunning consolation s cup because 
 Her babes were not. 
 
 " Oh ! have ye come to bring 
 
 Mercy to us ! and will ye teach our sons 110 
 
 To leave the hunter s fruitless toil, and love 
 
159 
 
 The arts by which ye live? Will ye impart 
 To them that knowledge which their wand ring sires 
 Benighted, found not? the assurance blest, 
 That after death the spirit shall ascend 
 
 To Him who gave it? 
 
 One there was, who breath d 
 The same kind promise to our wretched race, 
 Great Washington our Father. Low he sleeps, 
 And deep we mourn d him ! But behold, we see 
 One in his seat, who bends a Sire s regard 120 
 
 On these unhappy tribes. Ye too, blest Men, 
 Greet us as brethren, seeking to rebuild 
 Our desolation." 
 
 Thus Renatus spake, 4 
 
 The Chief baptized from Heav n, whose eloquence 
 Bath d in the fountain of celestial dews, 
 Henceforth is purified. His ardent heart 
 Long d that his blinded tribe might view the light, 
 And joy d to mark their offspring thronging come 
 From the dark forest. Sad the outcasts seem d, 
 As if their hard and bitter lot had crush d 130 
 
 The sportiveness of childhood. But when Love 
 Allur d them to its shelter, gently bound 
 Its circlet round them, show d their wond ring eyes 
 
100 
 
 The excellence of order, and the pow r 
 
 Of varying knowledge, their excursive minds 
 
 Travers d the new expanse, while their chang d brow. 
 
 Beam d with exulting hopes. How would the heart 
 
 Of mild Benevolence rejoice to view 
 
 Those tawny children of the forest stand 
 
 Like lambs before their teachers, pleas d to gain 148 
 
 That knowledge, which to their benighted souls 
 
 Seems like the glory of Creation s ray 
 
 Bursting from Chaos. Ah ! methinks the bounds 
 
 Of distance fleet! and bright, prevailing rays 
 
 Reveal the scene. 5 A happy band I see, 
 
 Bending intently o er the sacred page, 
 
 With sudden comprehension, while glad tears 
 
 Unconscious start ; or cheerful passing on 
 
 From hours of study, to accustomed sport, 
 
 From sport to useful toil. The day declines, 150 
 
 Ajid gathering meekly at Devotion s call, 
 
 The holy orison ascends to Him, 
 
 The first, the last, whose unrequited love 
 
 Careth for all his works. Methinks I hear 
 
 Their vesper hymn, in solemn melody 
 
 Dying away. Almost thy fervent pray r 
 
 Bursts on rny ear, blest Kingsbury ! 6 thou whose zeal 
 
16! 
 
 Didst in the wilderricss prepare the way 
 
 For HeavVs ambassadors. Thy student s cell 
 
 Longmark d thee, o er this world-discarded theme lt>0 
 
 Musing like David, when the holy flame 
 
 Burnt in his heart, and from his harp-strings burst* 
 
 Like the firm Patriarch, from his peaceful home, 
 
 And fathers sepulchres, divinely urg d 
 
 To wander, strong in faith, tho trembling hope 
 
 Pointed, she knew not whither, thou didst pitch 
 
 Thy lonely tent ; may He whose promise cheer d 
 
 The Father of the Faithful, guide thy steps, 
 
 And aid thy helpers, till their toil redeem 
 
 From Superstition s mazes, countless heirs 170 
 
 Of heaven s inheritance. 
 
 Amid the group 
 
 Of thy new gather d family, is one, 
 Whose humble aspect and mild eye reveal 
 That in her heart the Spirit of God hath wrought 
 A holy work. With gentlest hand she leads 
 Those younger than herself, repeating oft, 
 " How good, how merciful is He who took 
 Us from our low estate." 
 
 Patient she strives 
 By prayers, and by instructions, to arouse 
 
 14* 
 
Reflection in the hearts of those she styles 1 80 
 
 Her wretched people. Modest, tender, kind, 
 
 Her words and actions ; every vain desire 
 
 Is laid obedient at the feet of Christ. 
 
 And now no more the gaiety she seeks 
 
 Of proud apparel ; ornaments of gold 
 
 She gladly barters for the plain attire 
 
 Of meek and lowly spirits. Catharine, hail! 
 
 Our sister in the faith ! 7 Can those who love 
 
 The image of their Saviour, lightly prize 
 
 His lineaments in thee ? 190 
 
 How beautiful 
 
 Is undefil d Religion, mild enthron d 
 Upon the brow of youth. Its touch dispels 
 All dissonance of feature, every shade 
 Which darkens this dull clay, each narrow line 
 Of cold division, and with Truth s clear beara 
 Reveals the graces of the pure in heart, 
 Who shall see God. 
 
 And thou too, Warrior brave ! 
 
 Undaunted Charles, 8 who dar dst the opposing flood 
 Of the swift Coosa, mid the British fires, 
 And guiding thence th endanger d barks preserv dst 200 
 The lives of many ; thou who didst obtain 
 
163 
 
 The meed of valour, yet hast meekly learnt 
 
 Now not to glory, save in the reproach 
 
 And cross of Christ; we bless thee as the fruits 
 
 E en as the early harvest of the toil 
 
 Of God s own servant, who in youthful prime, 
 
 In the heart s flow ry spring, from joys of home, 
 
 From charms of love departing, sought the work 
 
 Of an evangelist. Like the bold strain 
 
 Of him whose lips the altar s flame had cleans d, 21Q 
 
 His ardent tone, as through the wilds he bent 
 
 His solitary way, 9 bade the rude cliffs 
 
 And trackless mountains bow their hoary heads. 
 
 And the lone vales with rev rent awe arise 
 
 To meet their God. 
 
 Oh ye, who raptur d trace 
 Historic annals through th eclipsing cloud 
 Of dark uncertainty, and hoary years, 
 Behold what changes our portentous times 
 Mark on this fleeting stage ! On awful wheels 
 Rolls the Redeemer s chariot o er the earth, 2^0 
 
 Making the Idols tremble. Ocean bears 
 Upon his thousand waves, the herald train 
 Who rear Salvation s banner. To each clime, 
 Sultry or savage, hastes the mighty Scroll 
 
164 
 
 Of Inspiration. Seraph-harps resound 
 With hallelujahs o er the ceaseless flight 
 Of souls, who borne by Penitence ascend 
 Up to Heaven s gate. 
 
 Ye, who from earliest dawn 
 Of infant reason to this passing hour, 
 Have heard the Gospel s invitation pour d, 
 Who view the rapid hand of Time unfold 
 High Prophecy s dread annals, while the Sun 
 Of truth, bright darting from each broken seal 
 Dispels the mist where Infidel disguise 
 Sought its cold covert. Oh ! embrace the hope 
 Which cannot perish. Would ye know the worth 
 Of our Religion, prove it in the hour 
 When dire affliction, like some wrecking storm, 
 Appals the soul. Say ! have ye seen the friend 
 Whom the most sacred, most endearing ties 240 
 
 Bound to your heart, a prey to stern disease ? 
 And while you, watching o er her pillow, strove 
 Gainst wan Despair, and agonizing pray d 
 That the brief remnant of her fragile life 
 Not yet might vanish, has the hand of God 
 Alter d her countenance ? Have ye beheld 
 That cherish d form in the dim shroud of Death, 
 
165 
 
 Lock d in his damp, eold cavern ? Saw ye then 
 The star of immortality arise 
 
 From the drear shadows of that gloomy vale 250 
 
 Which Nature enters shudd ring, and pale Grief 
 Dews with unceasing tear ? 
 
 When ye have bent 
 
 O er her lone tomh, shrinking beneath the weight 
 Of blasted Hope, while the resistless tide 
 Of Sorrow, heighten d by the mournful swell 
 Of recollected joys, o er the void soul 
 Roll d like a mighty deluge, mark d ye not 
 Inscribed above the ebon gate of Death, 
 l{ I am the resurrection and the life, 
 Saith Jesus Christ?" Ah ! when ye have believ d 260 
 That the sepulchral keys should be consigned 
 To that blest hand which once was deeply pierc d 
 For man s offences, ye have meekly knelt 
 Amid the ruins of your love, and sigh d, 
 Thy will be done. Still let that soften d glow 
 Pervade your spirit ; bid your life evince 
 Your orthodoxy ; let your virtues be 
 Devotion s daughters. Toil no more to hide 
 Sectarian bitterness beneath the cloak 
 Of righteous zeal ; your many-headed faith 270 
 
166 
 
 Reduce to His simplicity, who merg d 
 
 In Love to the Supreme and Love to man, 
 
 The prophets, and the law. Then shall ye find 
 
 The grandeur of Omnipotence absorb 
 
 The trifles of the hour ; as he who stands 
 
 On Andes crown, marking the Ocean mix 
 
 His tides eternal with the bending skies, 
 
 Notes not the obstacles, nor heeds the thorns 
 
 That marr d his path below. Then shall ye strike 
 
 The lyre of praise to the Eternal God, 280 
 
 Who needeth not th Archangel s arm, yet deigns 
 
 From the frail habitants of clay, to form 
 
 Instruments for his work : then shall ye rise 
 
 Clad in Messiah s armour to advance 
 
 His hasting sceptre, or to pay your vows 
 
 Before his throne. Oh ! aid that sacred cause 
 
 Which saints espous d, which holy martyrs seal d 
 
 With their hearts blood, and bending from the skies 
 
 Complacent view. Uphold it by your prayers, 
 
 Your alms, your influence, for Jehovah s smile 290 
 
 Shall crown the labour. 
 
 Who will coldly say, r 
 
 That he is burden d with the ceaseless claim 
 And tax of charity that her demands, 
 
167 
 
 Taking each shape and form of countless thought, 
 
 He cannot grant? Then let him stay his hand, 
 
 Withhold his short compassion, hoard his gold, 
 
 Hoard for his children, for his cherish d lusts : 
 
 But bid him heed that day, when it shall rise 
 
 " To eat his flesh like fire :" yes ! heed the day 
 
 Of righteous scrutiny. The work is God s ; 300 
 
 And still shall it proceed. He needeth not 
 
 The aid of the reluctant. Countless hosts 
 
 On earth, in air, and highest Heaven rejoice 
 
 To do his will. Full many a heart has rent 
 
 The bonds close twisted with its central clasp 
 
 In Life s delightful morn, by sacred home, 
 
 Kindred, and parents love. Yes ! throngs have bid 
 
 Farewell without a tear, tho the gay world 
 
 Might call it martyrdom, yet have they gone 
 
 To their returnless bourn, diffusing joy 310 
 
 O er desolation, and within their souls 
 
 Hiding its sacred source. Full many a name 
 
 Which Fashion flaunting in her gilded car 
 
 Heeds not amid her pomp, is register d 
 
 In the Lamb s book of life. Ah ! some have borne 
 
 Their message prosperously, and some have fall n, 
 
 Fall n in their charity. The blooming flow r 
 
168 
 
 Has faded, and the withering matron stem 
 
 Cast its pale blossom in Salvation s path, 
 
 Strewing the steps of Sorrow. Thou hast falPn, 320 
 
 Thou mild Moravian Sister I 1 Thou wert deck d 
 
 With what the giddy, unreflecting world 
 
 Might call accomplishment, but thou didst own 
 
 A pearl it could not purchase. Thou didst cleanse 
 
 Thy knowledge in the fount of Jesus Christ, 
 
 And pour it to the poor ; even as the hand 
 
 Of the blest angel mov d Siloam s pool 
 
 To heal the impotent. And thou didst die 
 
 E en as thou liv dst, unmurmuring, pure, serene, 
 
 And ardent in thy faith. 330 
 
 Thou hast obtain d 
 Eternal gain, from sublunary loss, 
 And tribulation ; for thy robes are white 
 In the atoning blood. Say, shall we shed 
 The tear for thee, blest Sister ! when thy lot 
 Is better far than ours ? 
 
 Soft glows the turf 
 
 O er the young Osage Orphan, 11 she whose chains 
 Of sad captivity were gently riven 
 By mild benevolence ; while He who pours 
 Light on the blinded eye, redeem d her heart 
 
169 
 
 From Nature s slavery. Beams not her smile 340 
 
 From some bright cloud, with grateful ray, on those 
 
 Who o er her transient tutelage diffus d 
 
 Instruction s early germ, affections mild, 
 
 And hopes benign ? Ye blest, who still essay 
 
 To offer incense mid those erring tribes, 
 
 Lift high your censers, bright with holy flame, 
 
 Be strong, and fear not. He, whose mighty voice 
 
 Counseli d the Prophet to prepare his way 
 
 In the wild desert, and make strait his path 
 
 Over the trackless mountains, He will come 350 
 
 And bring the victory. Ye too, whose hands 
 
 Might gird the soldiers, ye, whom Heav n appoints 
 
 As stewards of its bounty, will ye aid 
 
 The sacred mission ? Will ye freely strew 
 
 The seeds of wealth upon this troubled soil, 
 
 And trust the God of harvest ? Prest with want, 
 
 Blinded by ignorance, and in the maze 
 
 Of brutal vice and superstition chain d, 
 
 The wretched natives stand. To you, their hands 
 
 They raise, imploring. 360 
 
 Tears of anguish stain 
 
 Their haggard features. Timidly they lead 
 Their untaught children, asking you to grant 
 
 15 
 
170 
 
 Pity and comfort. Those neglected minds, 
 
 Long bound in dungeon gloom, yet bearing trace 
 
 Of noblest workmanship, ye might illume 
 
 With intellectual brightness, as the stone 
 
 Of precious lustre, from the rubbish drawn, 
 
 Dazzles the polisher. Ah ! think how hard 
 
 His lot, whom shades envelop, where fair Hope 
 
 Unfolds no dewy petal, where the tree 370 
 
 Of knowledge springs not, and where Genius buds 
 
 To feel the frost and die. Amid our race, 
 
 Too oft we sigh to mark the mighty force 
 
 Of Genius misapplied, its daring search 
 
 Unsanctified, and its refulgent flame 
 
 Sparkling through dim, perverted tendencies, 
 
 As through a misty halo. Genius soars 
 
 Like the proud Eagle tow rd the vertic Sun, 
 
 But oft her drooping crest, and pinions soil d, 
 
 Betray the aberrations of a flight 380 
 
 Which Heaven directs not. When her plumage drinks-. 
 
 The freshening dews of renovated love, 
 
 When her purg d eye, with steadfast beam beholds 
 
 The Sun of Righteousness, when her heart feels 
 
 His healing touch, who sanctifies what Earth 
 
 Deems holy, how sublime doth she aspire 
 
171 
 
 And hovering o er the cliff of Zion s mount, 
 
 Await the call to rise and make her nest 
 
 Among the stars. Philosophy perceiv d, 
 
 E en thro the dimness of the earliest days, 390 
 
 The emptiness of life, and weakly blam d 
 
 This void existence. But Religion brought 
 
 The promise of a new, and o er the storm 
 
 Rais d her while banner. Then the day-star shone, 
 
 Enlight ning darkness, and the realm of Death, 
 
 Guiding the mourners step thro thorns and gloom, 
 
 To a strong refuge in the glorious hope 
 
 Of immortality. 
 
 Oh ! then impart 
 
 To your blind brother, in his heathen woe, 
 The surplus of your luxury ; and peace 400 
 
 And joy shall blossom in his gloomy path, 
 As Eden s roses neath the Angels feet. 
 Christians ! who list ning, love the word divine, 
 Who find it as a sun-beam in your path, 
 And like a star of glory to your souls, 
 Think of your brother, (for our God hath made 
 All of one blood, who dwell upon the earth,) 
 Think of your brother, in your very gates, 
 Wand ring, unsatisfied, benighted, sad. 
 
172 
 
 Down to his grave, where no sweet spirit tells 410 
 
 Of rest in Jesus, where no hallow d voice 
 
 Sooths him to mingle dust with dust, in hope 
 
 Of a blest resurrection. Nature weeps 
 
 O er her fall n son, in speechless agony, 
 
 While the dark forms of Horror and despair 
 
 Mock at her bitterness. Would ye desire 
 
 That peace and mercy there should wave their wings 
 
 And midnight flee away ? Then lift your pray r, 
 
 Dispense your bibles, send your holy men 
 
 To publish peace ; let the poor native taste 420 
 
 The fruits that grow upon your tree of life, 
 
 Hold to his parch d and thirsty lips the cup 
 
 Of your salvation, and as his warm tears 
 
 Of gratitude and penitence burst forth, 
 
 So shall your rapture swell at the last day 
 
 When ye shall hear the glorious words, " Approach ! 
 
 What ye have done to one of these, the least, 
 
 The lowest in the scale of woe, was done 
 
 To me, your Judge : and where the Master dwells, 
 
 There shall the servant be." 430 
 
 Ye too, who share 
 
 The gentle sympathies of social life, 
 As equals and companions, whose soft hands 
 
173 
 
 Press the first seal upon the waxen mind 
 
 Of Infancy, who reign in the mild sphere 
 
 Of sweet domestic pleasure, bearing still 
 
 The birthright of each tender courtesy 
 
 And hope refin d, think of your humbled sex, 
 
 Mid those degraded tribes the lowest still, 
 
 Bearers of burdens, tillers of the earth, 
 
 Cut off from every joy reciprocal 440 
 
 That sweetens life, and so opprest with woe 
 
 As in despairing horror to destroy 
 
 Their female offspring, lest they too should share 
 
 Their servitude and misery oh think, 
 
 Think of these sisters! think of that blest word, 
 
 That pure religion, which has rais d your lot 
 
 To what it is, and if warm Pity move 
 
 The tear, the wish to rescue from despair 
 
 But one sad suffering slave, if Love inspire 
 
 To follow Him who went to seek the lost, 450 
 
 Oh speak, and it is done. 
 
 And ye, dear youth, 
 
 O er whose fair brows the light of knowledge plays 
 In bright intelligence, whose opening minds 
 Like some pure rose-bud crystalline with dew 
 Are shelter d in the gentle bow r of Love, 
 15* 
 
174 
 
 Remember those who heard no cradle hymn 
 
 Of peace and mercy, on whose infant hearts 
 
 No mild instruction stamp d a holy trace, 
 
 But ignorance and vile example left 
 
 Their wandering impression. While you learn 460 
 
 The various arts to grace and comfort life. 
 
 While in the circle of your friends you sit 
 
 Around your teachers, while your hearts respond 
 
 <{ Behold how pleasant, and how good it is 
 
 Thus to he hound in unity;" oh think 
 
 Of that untutor d race, who hear no sound 
 
 To rouse the rnind from indolence, or save 
 
 Its long perverted pow rs, nor docile bend 
 
 To that blest Education which prepares 
 
 For duties, and for trials, and for wounds 470 
 
 In life s uncertain warfare, for the joy 
 
 That gilds its close, and for the victor s crown : 
 
 Which from the mental garden wise removes 
 
 Those roots of bitterness that choke the growth 
 
 Of nobler plants, and by the timely change 
 
 Of sun-beam and of dew, of transient frowns 
 
 And gentleness, essays to imitate 
 
 The discipline of Heav n. And when you hear 
 
 The rude storm beating o er your peaceful home, 
 
175 
 
 When round the social board, the cheerful fire, 480 
 
 A happy band you draw, will you not think 
 
 Amid your gratitude, of those who roam 
 
 O er the cold mountains, homeless and distrest, 
 
 Meagre with famine, and but ill-conceal d 
 
 By tatters from the blast ? 
 
 Mark o er our land, 
 
 How Childhood s bounty strives to meliorate 
 Their sufferings ; how the bands of youth unite 
 In beauteous circles, bound by wreaths of Love, 
 O er Generosity s rich robe to cast 
 Their sparkling gems like stars, and tesselate 490 
 
 Her golden pavement. Like the chosen race 
 Thronging innumerous tovv rd the promis d land, 
 They urge their lingering kindred, " Haste with us, 
 And we will do thee good ;" 13 for he who form d 
 Our souls, linking their duties with their joys, 
 Shows, that in blessing others, is our bliss. 
 Let Industry, let Self-denial pour 
 Their limpid rills to swell the sacred tide 
 Of wide Benevolence, and find their gifts 
 Enrich themselves. Retrench some glittering toy, 500 
 Some tinsel trapping, some luxurious taste, 
 And lay the silent trophy at the shrine 
 
176 
 
 Of that pure Charity which " vaunteth not, 
 
 Nor boasteth of her deeds." Perchance your ear 
 
 From Brainerd s cultur d bound, from Eliot s shades. 
 
 From wild Tallony s unfrequented dales, 
 
 From Dwight (dear, hallow d name!) may catch the tone 
 
 Of gratitude to Christians, for some boon 
 
 Which you have toil d to aid. E en on the shore 
 
 Of fair Ceylon, or the far Sandwich isles, 510 
 
 Round whose green coast the vast Pacific roars, 
 
 Mid Gambia s injured natives, or the vales 
 
 Of murmuring Senegal, some grateful child 
 
 May muse and ponder o er that holy book 
 
 Which you have giv n. Perchance, on Ganges banks 
 
 Some infant, rescu d from the whelming tide 
 
 Or from its fathers knife, may kneeling pour 
 
 Praise to Jehovah. Oh ! to snatch one mind 
 
 From ruin s wreck, one soul from deadly vice, 
 
 Is it not better than to flaunt in pride 520 
 
 Of wealth, a few short years, then fade unmourn d, 
 
 As an unodorous flovv r? When like the gale 
 
 Thrilling the harp of Eol, rushing thoughts 
 
 Controul your spirit, moving it to give 
 
 Freely as ye receive, remember them 
 
 For whom my lay entreats. And when you muse 
 
177 
 
 At parting clay, or when the heavier shades 
 Announce soft slumber, and attune the soul 
 To meek Devotion, bear them on your prayers. 
 
 Ye too, who hang over your cradled sons, 530 
 
 With silent rapture, Parents ! who survey 
 
 The daily change of those unfolding minds, 
 
 And snowy brows, who sometimes pensive muse 
 
 On the bold tempters, and dark snares that throng 
 
 Their untried journey, view the mighty tide 
 
 Of population, ever rolling west, 
 
 And meditate, perchance, a few short years 
 
 That raise these young shoots into sapplings tall, 
 
 May plant them on our frontiers. Think once more ; 
 
 The Indians are their neighbours, deeply stung 540 
 
 With sense of wrong, and terrible in wrath, 
 
 What shall restrain their hatchets ? Who shall quell 
 
 Their midnight conflagration ? Who preserve 
 
 Those polish d temples from the glaring knife 
 
 Temper d in blood ? What helmet shield their heads 
 
 From the keen Tomahawk ? Oh ! make these foes 
 
 Your friends, your brethren, give them the mild arts 
 
 Social and civiliz d, send them that Book 
 
 Which teaches to forgive, implant the faith 
 
 That turns the raging vulture to the dove, 550 
 
178 
 
 And with these deathless bonds secure the peace 
 And welfare of your babes. 
 
 Oh thouj whose hand 
 
 Temperate and just, doth guide our helm of state 
 On its majestic course, steering so wise 
 Tween Scylla and Charybdis, that their wrath 
 Forgets to vex the long-resounding deep, 
 Shunning those quicksands where Ambition wrecks, 
 And from the vortex where wild Rashness whirls 
 In fatal revolution, bearing safe 
 
 The burden of an Empire s vast concerns, 560 
 
 Ruler of Freedom s favour d clime, where beam 
 Bright emanations on each gazing eye 
 From the fair dome of Knowledge, like the flame 
 Whose spiry column pointed Israel s path, 
 Son of that State, whose matron arm embrac d 
 Great Washington, and mark d with glowing pride 
 The scroll of glory brighten with the names 
 Of her illustrious offspring thou, whose heart 
 Gathering the groans of our rejected tribes, 
 Compassionate dev 7 is d their good, 13 and led 570 
 
 Thro gushing tears their filial glance to thee, 
 Oh ! still uphold their weakness, still extend 
 O er the drear desert of their wretchedness, 
 
179 
 
 The banner of thy wisdom, till their minds, 
 
 Freed from debasing fetters, twine the arts 
 
 Of civilization, with the hopes sublime 
 
 Of pure Christianity : so shall the voice 
 
 Of just posterity exalt thy fame 
 
 Above the blood-stain d hero, and enshrine 
 
 Thine image in the consecrated dome 580 
 
 Of blest Philanthropy. 
 
 My Country ! Rouse 
 
 From thy deep trance ! Divide the long-drawn veil 
 Of thy lethargic slumbers, and perceive 
 Britannia s bright example ; she who said 
 To Africa, " Be free." Awake, and hear 
 From Heaven s high arch the awful question break,, 
 " Where is thy brother ?" Wilt thou turn away, 
 Answering, " I know not !" with concealment vain, 
 Or arrogantly asking, " Why should 1 
 Be made my brother s keeper ?" 590 
 
 View the day 
 
 Of retribution ! Think how thou wilt bear 
 From thy Redeemer s lips the fearful words, 
 <: Thy brother, perishing within thy gates, 
 Thou saw st. Thy brother hunger d, was athirst, 
 Was naked, and thou saw st it. He was sick, 
 
180 
 
 And thou withheld st the healing : was in prisoa, 
 To Vice and Ignorance, nor did st thou send 
 To set him free." Oh ! ere that hour of doom 
 Whence there is no reprieve, my Country, wake 
 From thy dark dream ! 600 
 
 Blot from th accusing scroll 
 Those guilty traces, with repentant tears : 
 Teach thy red brother in the day of wrath 
 To stand before the Judge, and plead, "Forgive! 
 Forgive ! For he hath sent thine holy word, 
 Hath told me of a Saviour, and diffus d 
 The day-beam o er my darkness. His kind voice 
 Taught me to call thee Father. Oh ! forgive 
 Those earthly wrongs which he hath well aton d 
 By pointing me to Heaven." 
 
 The time of Hope, 
 
 And of probation, speeds on rapid wing, 610 
 
 Swift and returnless. What thou hast to do, 
 Do with thy might. Haste ! lift aloud thy voice, 
 And publish on the borders of the pit, 
 The resurrection. Bid thy heralds bear 
 To thy own wilds, Salvation. Strike the harp 
 Of God s high praises mid thy deserts lone, 
 And let thy mountains speak them. Lo ! they rise 
 
181 
 
 Wafted on every gale. From Afric s sands, 
 
 From chill Siberia, from the restless wave 
 
 Of turbid Ganges, from the spicy groves, 620 
 
 And from the sea-green islands. Rise! and spread 
 
 That name which must be borne from sea to sea, 
 
 And from the river to the utmost bounds 
 
 Of the wide world. Then, when the ransom*d come 
 
 With gladness unto Zion, thou shah joy 
 
 To hear the vallies and the hills break forth 
 
 Before them into singing ; thou shah join 
 
 The raptur d strain, exulting that the Lord 
 
 Jehovah, God Omnipotent, doth reign 
 
 O er all the Earth. 
 
 16 
 
NOTES 
 
 TO 
 
 V2R8V 
 
 Note 1. Line 7. 
 
 " To where Magellan lifts his torch to light 
 
 The meeting of the waters." 
 
 The island of Terra del Fuego, having received its name of " Land of 
 Fire," from the number of volcanoes which diversify its desolate region, 
 may well be represented under the metaphor of Torch-bearer to th 
 Oceans, as they rush to mingle their waves. 
 
 Note 2. Line 73. 
 
 " Of brother, or of sou, untimely slain 
 
 In the dread battle." 
 
 The custom which prevails among the aboriginal Americans, of adopt 
 ing a captive foe in the place of some near relative, who has fallen in 
 battle, is well known. The affection thus transferred, is said to be sin 
 cere and ardent, and extinguished only with life. They have been styled 
 the most revengeful, the most implacable of savage nations. Yet this 
 practice, peculiar to themselves, seems rather to prove, that the habits 
 arising from natural affection are .stronger than the suggestions of revenge. 
 Among civilized nations, in every age, the adoption of children has pre 
 vailed ; but it has been circumscribed either by the limits of affinity, the 
 predilection of friendship, or the excitement of compassion. When was 
 it known to be extended to mortal foes, even by Christians, who are 
 bound to requite enmity with love ? Where, among the followers of 
 
184 
 
 Him, with whose death-pang was mingled a prayer for his murderers, has 
 the shelter of paternal kindness been the portion of the enemy, whose 
 sword had drank the blood of the lost son ? or the offices of fraternal 
 affection been extended to him who had pierced the breast of the lamented 
 brother ? Among the ancient Egyptians, Assyrians, and Grecians, 
 adoption by those who were childless, was a frequent usage. The Ro 
 mans enacted laws for its regulation. The Lacedemonians required that 
 it should be performed in the presence of their kings. The Turk, accord 
 ing to the appointed ceremonies of Mahomet, invests the adopted with his 
 inner garment, or with his girdle ; and the Gentoo offers sacrifices to his 
 gods. But the native American being in this respect " without law, is a 
 law unto himself;" he adopts the foe who would have shed his blood, 
 without the pomp of prescribed ceremony, and with no sacrifice but that 
 which affection exacts of vengeance. In other instances, we behold this 
 race capable of degrees of virtue, as unexpected as they are unparalleled. 
 The natives of Hascala, a populous province, bordering upon Mexico, shock 
 ed at the cruelties which marked the intrusion of the Spaniards, attacked 
 them with impetuous bravery and with vast superiority of numbers. But the 
 advantages arising from these circumstances, were entirely lost through their 
 solicitude to save the wounded and dying. To relieve the sufferers, and re 
 move them from further barbarity, divided the attention of the warrior even 
 in the heat of battle; and a scene unknown among civilized nations was dis 
 played, a sentiment of tenderness extinguishing victory. Afterwards, the 
 Hascalans, meditating another attack, generously apprized the invaders 
 of their hostile intentions, and knowing that a scarcity of provisions ex 
 isted among them, sent to their camp a large supply of poultry and maize ; 
 " Eat plentifully," said they, " for we scorn to attack enemies enfeebled 
 by hunger, and should blush to offer to our gods, famished and emaciated 
 victims." Yet these sons of nature had never heard the command, " If 
 thine enemy hunger, feed him , if he thirst, give him drink." 
 
 Note 3. Line 101. 
 
 " Some with blood 
 
 Of human sacrifices, sought to apjiease" &c. 
 
 Although the Mexicans were further advanced in refinement than any 
 of the aborigines of America, they were the slaves of a superstition which 
 was marked by the most barbarous sacrifices. At their first arrival near 
 
185 
 
 the Late of Tetzuco, from their ancient possessions, on the borders of the 
 Californian Gulf, they erected on the spot which they had selected for 
 their principal city, a temple to their tutelar god, which they consecrated 
 by the effusion of human blood. This event, according to their traditions, 
 and the simple annals preserved by their hieroglyph ical paintings, occurred 
 in the year 1335 of the Christian era. Following them through the va 
 riations of their government, from its original form of aristocracy, to that 
 of elective monarchy, and ultimate despotism, combined with the feudal 
 spirit, we see the same stern religion preserving its sway unaltered, and 
 mingling with their civil institutions. Their political festivals were at 
 tended with the sacrifice of human beings, and in their expiatory offerings 
 to their deities, they believed that " without shedding of blood was no re 
 mission." During the reigns of Tizoc, and his brother Ahuitzotl, a 
 temple was erected, which surpassed in magnificence all the structures of 
 Mexico, and at its completion in 148G, it was consecrated with the blood 
 of more than 60,OOO prisoners. Montezuma II. who was the ninth 
 Mexican sovereign, entered into a war with some neighbouring tribes, in 
 order to obtain victims for sacrifice at his coronation, and the cruel pa 
 geantry of that scene was in accordance with the inclinations of his sub 
 jects. The funeral rites of the Mexicans were sanguinary, particularly 
 at the death of any distinguished personage. At the decease of an em- 
 perour, they slew a number of his principal attendants, and buried them in 
 the same tomb ; supposing, like the ancient Scythians, that he would 
 have need of their assistance and counsel. The rites of their religion 
 were reduced to a regular system ; but their divinities were clothed in 
 vengeance, and their priests perpetuated a worship of gloom and terrour, 
 
 Note 4. Line 106. 
 
 " Some with fruits 
 
 Sweet Jtowcrtj and incense of their choicest herbs 
 
 Sought to propitiate Him" &c. 
 
 The mild Peruvians who, at the time of the invasion of the Spaniards, 
 had made many attainments in the arts of civilization, had a form of re 
 ligion whose features were remarkably free from harshness and barbarity. 
 " The most singular and striking circumstance in their government," 
 says Dr. Robertson, " was the influence of religion upon its genius and 
 laws. The whole system of their civil policy was founded upon religion. 
 
 10* 
 
186 
 
 I iie Inca appeared not only as a legislator, but a messenger from 
 Heaven. The superstitions on which he engrafted his pretensions to 
 high authority, were of a very different character from those established 
 among the Mexicans. By directing their veneration to that glorious lu 
 minary which by its universal and vivifying energy is the best emblem of 
 divine beneficence, the rites and observances which they deemed accepta 
 ble to Him were innocent and humane. They offered to the Sun a part 
 of the productions which his genial warmth had called forth from the 
 bosom of the earth, and fostered to maturity. They sacrificed, as an 
 oblation of gratitude, some of the animals who were indebted to his influ 
 ence for nourishment. They presented to him choice specimens of those 
 works of ingenuity, which his light had guided the hand of man in form 
 ing : but the Incas never stained his altars with human blood, nor con 
 ceived that their beneficent father, the Sun, would be delighted with such 
 victims. Accordingly, the Peruvians, unacquainted with those barbarous 
 rites, which extinguish sensibility, and suppress the feelings of nature at 
 human sufferings, were formed by the spirit of the superstition they had 
 adopted, to a national character more gentle than that of any people in 
 America." The tribe of Chacmeheca s who succeeded the ancient Tolte- 
 an monarchy, which was situated in the neighbourhood of Mexico, also 
 paid homage to the Sun, as their tutelar divinity, and offered to him the 
 herbs and flowers which they found springing in the field. The Parent 
 of warmth and vegetation appeared to their untaught minds, as the Foun 
 tain of existence and of hope ; and how much more elevated was the 
 choice of their Paganism, than that of the polished Egyptians, who, in 
 their absurd worship of vegetables, noxious reptiles, and the lifeless for 
 mations of Nature, clearly evinced, that the " world by wisdom knew not 
 God." 
 
 Note 5. Line 109. 
 
 " Some, with mystic rites, 
 The ark, the orison, the paschal feast," &c. 
 
 Such a marked diversity of customs, and religious rites, is found 
 among the aborigines of America, that they must be considered as the 
 mingled offspring of different nations, who in various ages have become 
 inhabitants of this western hemisphere. The Peruvians, in their ancient 
 offerings, like a sect of the Persians, recognized the Sun as the Parent of 
 
187 
 
 their joys, and the supreme object of their adoration. Some of the eastern 
 tribes of South America preserve a tradition that their ancestors migrated 
 from the African continent. The Toltecas, originally bordering upon 
 Mexico, and celebrated for their superiour knowledge, which comprised 
 some branches of agriculture, together with the art of cutting gems, and 
 casting gold and silver into various forms, possessed some ancient paint 
 ings, which represented the passage of their ancestors through Asia, and 
 the north-western countries of America. The Mexicans who, in the 
 barbarity of their religious sacrifices, point to the blood-stained altars of 
 Carthage, in the style of their architecture, the construction of pyramidal 
 edifices, the use of hieroglyphicks, and the mode of computing time, lead 
 us back to the institutions of ancient -Egypt. This similarity has so for* 
 ribly impressed the minds of some learned writers, particularly Siguenza, 
 and Bishop Huet, that they have designated the Mexicans as the descend 
 ants of Naphtahim, the son of Mizraim, and nephew of Ham. The Es 
 quimaux recognizes his sires in the north of Europe, and by a variety of 
 customs proves his affinity. The Mohawks, from the peculiarity of their 
 language, composed entirely without labials, so that they never close their 
 lips in speaking, and from the superiority which they assumed over the 
 surrounding tribes, seem also to claim a distinct origin. The Abbe Cla- 
 vigero supposes that the ancestors of those nations who peopled the coun 
 try of Anahuac, passed from the northeastern parts of Asia to the western 
 extremity of America. Amid the variety of customs which distinguish 
 the different tribes, some have been observed so similar to those of ancient 
 Israel, that they have given rise to conjecture, that some of the ten tribes, 
 who, after the Assyrian invasion in 721, (B.C.) were long in a wandering 
 state, might have been allured to pass, with other emigrants, the narrow strait 
 which separates the Old from the New World. This opinion received 
 strength from the circumstance, that among some of the natives, the name 
 of their Supreme Being was " Tehewah," evidently resembling the He 
 brew Jehovah, that the word " Hallelujah," occurred in their songs of 
 praise, that they bear upon their shoulders to battle a consecrated Ark, 
 which is never suffered to touch the earth, and the mysteries of whose in 
 terior they guard with the most jealous care. Traditions of the murder 
 in Eden, of original longevity, the general deluge, the saving of the 
 righteous pair, the bird sent from the ark, who returned with a verdant 
 
188 
 
 branch, the confusion of tongues, the anger of the Great Spirit at the 
 building of a high place, which the pride of man contemplated should 
 reach the heavens, and many more, evidently derived from the Scriptures, 
 are preserved among them. Some of the early settlers, who had an oppor 
 tunity of observing their character before its debasement, traced in their 
 religious offerings and festivals a similarity to the Jewish ritual. Intelli 
 gent men, who have resided among them as traders, or surveyed them as 
 travellers and missionaries, have occasionally gathered traits of resemblance 
 to the peculiar people ; and some learned men have been inclined to credit 
 this hypothesis, by a comparison of their language with the ancient He 
 brew. " Dr. Buchanan," says a judicious writer, " supposes the ten 
 tribes of Israel, to be now in the country of their first captivity ; but this 
 by no means precludes the possibility of individuals having migrated north 
 ward and eastward to the American continent. He speaks of the white 
 and the black Jews of Asia we know that there are also white Jews in 
 Europe, and black Jews in Africa ; and why, since they are the scattered, 
 the distinguished people, may there not be red Jews in America ?" 
 
 JVbte 6. Line 121. 
 
 " The crystal tube 
 
 Of calm inquiry, to thy patient eye, 
 
 Meek Houditwt ! reveal* d an unknown star 
 
 Upon this western cloud." 
 
 This refers to the " Star in the West," a work which attempts to 
 prove the descent of some of our aborigines, from the dispersed Israelites ; 
 written by the late Hon. Judge Boud mot, the venerable Sire and Patron 
 of the American Bible Society. He asserts, that if the descendants of 
 exiled Israel could now be identified, on any spot of the globe, we should 
 not find, after the revolution of twenty-five centuries, the traces of similarity 
 more striking ; and that, admitting the affinity of our roving tribes with 
 the peculiar people, it would be impossible not to be surprised at perceiv 
 ing so many rites and traditions unimyaired, when to the lapse of ages is 
 added the absence of a written language, of a temple, of a regular govern 
 ment, even of a permanent abode, and the vice, degradation, and misery, 
 which, since their subjugation by the Europeans, has involved them in a 
 darkness like midnight. He is strengthened in his theory by a passage 
 from the Apocrypha, where Esdrss " in his vision beheld the ten tribes 
 
189 
 
 who were carried captive by Shalmanezer, in the time of Hosea their king, 
 taking counsel to leave the multitude, and go into a country where man 
 kind never dwelt, that they might keep the statutes which they never 
 kept in their own land, and remain there until the latter times." 2 Es- 
 dras, xiii. 40. 
 
 The Rev. Dr. Jarvis, in his interesting " Discourse on the Religion 
 of the Indian Tribes," supposes them to be the descendants of Noah, who 
 migrated to this continent, after the great dispersion of mankind. This 
 theory, which accounts for many of the traditions preserved among them, 
 is also adopted by Mr. Faber, so well known by his learned dissertations 
 on the Prophecies. 
 
 Note l.Une 172. 
 
 " Their weak, exhausted hands they prcst 
 On their ivan lips, and in the lowly dust 
 Laid them despairing." 
 
 Missionaries and traders have occasionally observed among the different 
 tribes, the custom of pressing the hand upon the lips, and laying the 
 mouth in the dust, in cases of deep bereavement. Some have supposed 
 it the dictate of Nature in the humiliation of suffering. Others have 
 traced in it a resemblance to the expression of grief in ancient Israel ; and 
 have been reminded of the passages in Job, Solomon, and Jeremiah : 
 " Mark me, and be astonished, and lay your hand on your mouth .-" 
 "Behold, I am vile ! what shall I answer thee I will lay my hand 
 upon my mouth :" " If thou hast done foolishly, in lifting up thyself, or 
 if thou hast thought evil, lay thy hand upon thy mouth." " He putteth 
 his mouth in the dust, if so be, there may be hope." 
 
 Note. 8. Line 186. 
 
 " To the poor Greenlander reveaVd the dance 
 
 Of happy spirits^ 
 
 The imagination of the inhabitants of Greenland traces in the Aurora 
 Borealis, the dance of sportive souls. They suppose the place of torment 
 for the wicked to be in the subterranean regions, where darkness and ter- 
 rour reign, without hope. They believe in two Great Spirits, the good 
 and the evil, and in various subordinate grades of ethereal beings, resem 
 bling the major and minor gods of the ancient heathens. "When a friend 
 is in the conflict of death, they array him in his best apparel, and when 
 
190 
 
 the last change has marked his countenance, bewail his loss, and prepare 
 for his interment. They deposit in his grave instruments of labour, and 
 darts for defence, and returning to the house of mourning, the men sit 
 silent with uncovered faces, while the females prostrate themselves on the 
 earth. The nearest relative pronounces an eulogy on the virtues of the 
 departed, and at every pause their grief becomes more audible. The 
 ceremonies of mourning are continued at intervals for months, and some 
 times for a year ; though its bitterness diminishes after the period which 
 they allot for the perilous journey to the eternal regions. They believe 
 that the spirits of the departed are occasionally permitted to revisit the 
 earth, and reveal themselves to the former objects of their attachment. 
 Some of the first missionaries who visited this people, supposed that the 
 idea of a Divine Being was in some degree familiar to their minds, since 
 they so readily received the knowledge of his attributes, and the most 
 stupid among them were struck with horror at the thought of the annihila 
 tion of the soul. 
 
 Note 9. Line 208. 
 
 " Thus, the warlike Earl 
 Stern Seward, in his armour bracd, erect, 
 Met grisly Death." 
 
 Seward, Earl of Northumberland, feeling in his last sickness, that dis 
 solution approached, quitted his bed, and encircled himself with his armour. 
 To the inquiries of his attendants, he answered, " It becometh not a 
 brave man to die like a beast." Standing, and with an undaunted coun 
 tenance, he met death, closing his life of intrepidity, by an act equally 
 singular and heroic. 
 
 Note 10. Line 214. 
 
 " Others toward the East 
 With faces turn d, repose." 
 
 The natives of Patagonia bury their dead on the eastern shores, and 
 with their faces turned toward the rising Sun, where they say was the 
 country of their ancestors. Bougainville, and others, have suggested 
 Jheir resemblance to the roving Tartars. Like them they traverse im 
 mense plains, constantly on horseback, clothing themselves with the skins 
 ef wild beasts, which they destroy in the chase, and occasionally pillaging 
 travellers, who cross their path, or interrupt their career. 
 
191 
 
 Note I 1 . Line 219. 
 
 * Weed nor thorn, 
 
 Might choke the young turf springing." 
 
 " Among some of our aborigines, the graves of departed friends are 
 guarded with the most delicate and jealous affection. They suffer n 
 weeds to take root upon them, and frequently visit them with lamenta 
 tions. This tender and sacred sentiment is expressed in an effusion of 
 simple eloquence, which bears the antiquity of nearly 200 years. In one 
 of the earliest records of the settlement of Massachusetts, it is mentioned 
 that the Indian monuments of the dead had been defaced by the whites at 
 Passonagessit, and the grave of the Sachem s Mother plundered of some 
 skins that had decorated it. Gathering together his people, in the first 
 moments of his grief and indignation, he thus addressed them : " When 
 last the glorious light of this sky was underneath the globe, when the 
 birds grew silent, I began to settle, as my custom is, to take my repose. 
 But ere my eyes were fast closed, I saw a vision at which my soul was 
 troubled. As I trembled at the fearful sight, a spirit uttered its voice : 
 Behold ! my Son, whom I have cherished. See the hands that covered, 
 and fed thee oft. Wilt thou forget to take revenge of those wild people, 
 who have disturbed my ashes, disdaining our sacred customs ? See now ! 
 the Sachem s grave lies, like one of the common people s, defiled by an 
 ignoble race. Thy Mother doth complain. She implores thine aid 
 against this thievish people, newly intruding themselves into our land. If 
 this be suffered, can I rest quietly in my everlasting habitations ? Then 
 the Spirit vanished, and I, trembling, and scarce able to speak, began to 
 get some strength, and recollect my thoughts that had fled, determining 
 to ask your counsel and assistance." 
 
 Note \ c Z.Line 224. 
 
 " Thus the Scythian tribes 
 
 Wandering without a City, calfd to guard 
 
 Nor dome, nor temple, took their dauntless stand 
 
 Upon their fathers 1 sepulchres," &c. 
 
 Rollin, in his interesting history of the expedition of Darius against 
 the Scythians, relates the embarrassment which he suffered in being unable 
 to bring that roving people to a regular engagement. " Prince of the 
 Scythians," said he, " why do you continually fly before me ?" " If I fly 
 
192 
 
 before thee, Prince of Persia," he replied, " it is not because I fear thee. 
 We, Scythians, have neither cities or lands to defend : yet come ! attack 
 the tombs of our fathers, and thou shalt find what manner of men we are.* 
 Soon after, they exemplified another singular trait of character, by send 
 ing a herald to Darius, with a present of a bird, a mouse, a frog, and five 
 arrows. The monarch exclaimed with joy, " Now they acknowledge 
 subjection, and by these emblems yield to me the dominion of their lands 
 and waters, of their warriors, and even of the atmosphere they breathe. 3 
 But Gobryas, one of his officers, who was better versed in the hiero 
 glyphics of Scythia, correctly interpreted this typical message : " Unless 
 the Persians can ascend into the air like birds, conceal themselves in earth 
 like mice, or beneath the waters like frogs, it is not possible for them to 
 escape the Scythian arrows." 
 
 Note 13. Line 257. 
 
 " Ericke steer d 
 
 From that lone isle ivhich Nature s poising hand 
 
 Cast " tween the Continents." 
 
 It is generally admitted that the northern parts of America were settled 
 by the Scandinavians, several centuries before the expedition of Columbus. 
 Ericke Raude, so named on account of his red hair, is considered as the 
 original discoverer of those inhospitable regions. Having past a winter 
 on the coast of Greenland, he returned to Iceland, and persuaded many 
 of his countrymen to accompany him, and undertake the establishment of 
 a colony. He assured them that the country which he had found, abound 
 ed in fish, and exhibited such a verdant appearance, that he had assigned 
 it the name of Greenland, or Greenland. Twenty-five ships, filled with 
 Icelanders and Norwegians, attended him in consequence of these repre 
 sentations ; but it is said that only fourteen sustained the inclemencies of 
 the voyage. The establishment of this colony bears date, according to 
 Torfaeus, in his " Groenlandia Antiqua," in the year 982 ; yet it would 
 seem to have been of earlier origin, by the bull of Pope Gregory 4th, 
 issued in 835, and committing the conversion of the Greenlanders and 
 Icelanders, to the first northern apostle, Ansgarius. This colony as 
 sumed the appearance of prosperity, and in 1261, voluntarily submitted 
 to the sceptre of Norway, and was governed by a Norwegian viceroy, 
 according to the laws of Iceland. It was considerably harassed by the 
 
natives, who were denominated " Skrrellings," and whose origin is traced 
 to the North East regions of Tartary. Driven from their country by 
 imperious and potent enemies, they crossed the straits of Bherring, and 
 gradually passing to the east and north, began their hostilities against the 
 Icelandic colony in the eleventh century. They gained great ascendancy 
 over it about the year 1350, when it had been enfeebled by the ravages 
 of pestilence ; and in the course of two or three centuries nearly exter 
 minated it. The small remnant of European settlers were driven from 
 the western toward the eastern shores, and compelled to incorporate them 
 selves with their conquerors. Some of them, however, retreated to the 
 inlets between the mountains, and like the Welch still preserve the cha 
 racter of an unconquered people. 
 
 Note 14. Line 279. 
 
 " Sat/, Daru iu ! Fancy s son"- 
 
 Dr. Darwin s plan of navigating southward those tremendous masses 
 of ice, which for ages have been accumulating amid the polar regions, in 
 order to allay the fervour of the tropics, is one of the many visionary the 
 ories cf that splendid poet and eccentric philosopher. 
 
 Note 15. Line 289. 
 
 " Shaming the brief dome 
 
 IFhich Russia s empress-queen bade the chill buor 
 
 Quench life s frail lamp to rear." 
 
 The Ice Palace, erected in the year 1740, by the Empress Anne, oi 
 Russia, was 52 feet in length, and when lighted exhibited the most splen 
 did appearance. Yet to a reflecting mind, its brilliance must have been 
 dimmed by the recollection, that many lives were sacrificed to its construc 
 tion, by the severity of cold. The description of this singularly beautiful 
 structure, by the poet Cowper, is in accordance with that purity and elegant: 
 simplicity, which characrerize his numbers. 
 
 " Silently, as a dream the fabric rose ; 
 
 No sound of hammer, or of saw was there : 
 
 Ice upon ice, the well-adjusted parts 
 
 Were soon conjoin d ; nor other cement ask d 
 
 Than water interfus d, to make them one. 
 
 Lamps gracefully dispos d, and of all hues 
 
 Illumin d every side ; a watery light 
 17 
 
194 
 
 Gleam d through the clear transparency, that seem d 
 Another moon new ris n, or meteor fali n 
 From heaven to earth, of lambent flame serene. 
 So stood the brittle prodigy, though r.mooth 
 And slippery the materials, yet frost-bound, 
 Firm as a rock. Nor wanted aught within 
 That royal residence might well betit, 
 For grandeur or for use. Long wavy wreaths 
 Of flowers that fear d no enemy but warmth. 
 Blush d on the pannels. 
 
 Mirror needed none, 
 
 Where all was vitreous ; but in order due, 
 Convivial table, and commodious seat, 
 (What seem d at least commodious seat) were there =~ 
 Sofa, and couch, and high-built throne august. 
 The same lubricity was found in all, 
 And all was moist to the warm touch : a scene 
 Of evanescent glory, once a stream, 
 And soon to slide into a stream again." 
 
 Note 16. Line 315. 
 
 " To their humble cells 
 Came holy men, by pious Otaf s zeal 
 Wingd on their mission." 
 
 Olaf, or Olaus, a Norwegian king, having renounced heathenism, sent 
 a priest to Greenland, early in the tenth century for the conversion of the 
 inhabitants. His exertions were successful, and the whole colony em 
 braced Christianity. In the year 1 122, they chose a Norwegian bishop, 
 and a regular succession in the Episcopacy was preserved, until the year 
 1 406, when the last of seventeen bishops was sent over. Darkness for 
 a time overspread the religious prospects of this people ; like that which 
 enveloped ancient Israel, when the harp of prophecy was broken in the 
 hand of Malachi, and for more than three centuries there was no divine 
 ..ommunication. But in the year 1721, a pious clergyman of Norway, 
 by the name of Hans Egede, whose heart had long been moved by the 
 wretchedness of the Greenb.ncU rs, resolved, notwithstanding the obstruc 
 tions that were cast in the way of his enterprise, to bear to that inhospita- 
 
195 
 
 ble region the glad tidings of salvation. He was accompanied by about 
 forty adventurers, who aided him in imparting a knowledge of those arts 
 which advance the comfort of the present life ; while, with the most con 
 descending attention, the most faithful diligence, and under the pressure 
 of almost unexampled hardships, he taught the precepts of a religion, 
 whose benevolenee he exemplified. After sustaining the arduous duties 
 of a missionary almost forty years, he closed his honouiable and pious 
 life, at the age of seventy-three, and to him, and to his son, Paul Egede, 
 we are indebted for an ample and authentic account of modern Greenland. 
 The Moravians also, whose zeal in diffusing the blessings cf religion, can 
 not be too highly appreciated, extended the exertions of their Christian 
 love to this desolate region. Perhaps it is without parallel in the annals 
 of benevolence, that a Society so restricted in pecuniary resources, so 
 afflicted by persecution as to have been reduced to about six hundred indi 
 viduals, should display the missionary spirit in such unbroken strength 
 and splendour. After the oppressions of the Church of Rome, when they 
 had taken refuge on the estates of Count Zinzendorf in Lusutia, they 
 sent, in the space of nine years, missionaries to Greenland, to South-Ame 
 rica, to Algiers, to Guinea, to Lapland, to the West-Indian and Nicobar 
 islands, to Ceylon, to the extremities of the Cape of Good Hope, r.nd to 
 the wilds of Tartary. About the year 1733, when the mission of Mr. 
 Egede was so coldly patronized by government, and so overclouded by 
 misfortune, that it seemed ready to expire, the Moravians having resolved 
 to carry the gospel to Greenland, two of their venerable messengers ar 
 rived on foot at Copenhagen, entreating permission to accomplish their 
 design. " How," said one of the ministers of the crown of Denmark, 
 " do you hope to maintain yourselves in that desolate region ?" " By 
 the labour of our hands," they answered, " and by the blessing of God. 
 We will build a house, and cultivate a piece of land, that we may not be 
 burdensome to any." The nobleman, perceiving that they were not fully 
 acquainted with the sterility of the country, replied, " There is no timber 
 there to build with." " Then," said these devoted servants of the cross, 
 " we will dig a cavern in the earth, and lodge there." These faithfuH 
 missionaries with others who from time to time were sent to their assis 
 tance, suffered indescribably from the rigours of the climate, and the 
 ravages of famine and pestilence. Yet nothing extinguished the flame ot 
 
196 
 
 their benevolence, and tbey expressed themselves willing to prolong their 
 labours until death, to continue " to believe while there was nothing to 
 be seen, to hope when nothing was to be expected." Soon after their 
 arrival, the Small-Pox was communicated by a Greenlander 1 who had re 
 turned from Europe, and it assumed so malignant a form, that few who 
 were seized by it, survived beyond the third day. Destitute of the know- 
 lodge of medicine, and of the comforts which alleviate disease, the wretch 
 ed natives stabbed themselves, or plunged into the sea, to put a period to 
 their sufferings. The Moravians, in company with Mr. Egede, hastened 
 from place to place, to impart assistance or consolation. Empty houses, 
 and unburied corpses, bleaching on the snow, every where shocked their 
 eyes. On one island, only one little girl, and her three brothers, survived. 
 Their father had buried all the inhabitants, and finding himself and his 
 youngest child smitten with the malady, lay down in a grave, with the 
 sick infant in his arms, commanding his daughter to cover them with 
 skins and stones, that their bodies might not be devoured by ravens and 
 foxes. In 1753, the severity of that terrific climate was heightened to 
 an unusual degree, and snow fell in every month of the year. In March, 
 the cold was so intense, that even glass and stones burst. Famine was 
 the consequence, and continued till 1757, when it surpassed all that had 
 ever been imagined by the Europeans. " We found," said the Missiona 
 ries, " near a house that we visited, fifteen persons nearly starved to 
 death. They lay near each other, striving to preserve warmth, for they 
 had no fire, nor the least morsel to eat. For very faintness they did not 
 care to lift up themselves, or to speak to us. Four of their children were 
 already dead with hunger. At length a man brought a fish from the sea, 
 and a girl snatched it, raw as it was, and tore it in pieces with her teeth, 
 gorging it with violence. She looked pale as death, and was ghastly to 
 behold. We distributed among them our small pittance, and advised them 
 to endeavour to remove to our part of the land." Children perished in 
 great numbers by famine, and old people were buried alive in order to save 
 the food that they would have consumed. The Missionaries participated 
 in these sufferings, till their strength was exhausted, and their constitutions 
 debilitated, yet occasional success in their spiritual work, caused them to 
 count their afflictions light. Settlements were formed at New Herrnhut, 
 Iv.chtenfels, and Lichtenau ; and materials for two churches were sent 
 
197 
 
 them from Europe, which were erected and partially filled with worship 
 pers. In the year 1814, more than 1100 inhabitants belonged to these 
 three settlements, and the whole population of Greenland was estimated 
 nt 70OO. Since the commencement of the mission by Mr. Egede, which 
 has comprised a century, the number baptized is computed at about 5000. 
 The extension of this Note by an interesting extract from the 1 8th 
 volume of the Quarterly Review, will be forgiven by minds who have felt 
 solicitude in the extension of truth, or sympathy for the privations of its 
 messengers. It is a forcible delineation of the feelings of a missionary 
 and his family, during the gloom and loneliness of a Greenland winter, 
 and is drawn from the manuscripts of Saabye, a grandson of that venerated 
 apostle Hans Egede. " They have one bright epoch ; for it is a happy 
 time, when the ice is loosed from the rocky coast, and they can expect 
 the arrival of the vessel which alone reaches their solitude. Often de 
 ceived by the floating Ice-berg, forming itself in mockery into the shape 
 of their friendly visitant, at length they see the white sails, the towering 
 masts, the blessed guest riding at anchor in the bay. By this vessel their 
 wants are supplied. The active and pious housewife busies herself in 
 arranging the stores of the ensuing twelvemonth. There are letters too, 
 from friends, and from relations, and books, and newspapers; and banished 
 as they are, they live again in Denmark, in their father-land. The 
 hour of enjoyment soon glides away ; the ship sails j the Missionary and 
 the partner of his toils remain behind, solitary and forsaken. To this 
 season of sadness succeeds the gloom of the polar night. A few davs 
 before the 26th of November, Saabye was accustomed to climb the hi^h 
 rocks, from whence at noon he could just see the sun shining with a soft 
 and pallid light ; and then the sun sank, and he bade farewell to the eye 
 of creation with heaviness and grief. Dubious twilight lingered till the 
 beginning of December ; then darkness ruled. The stream near -which 
 Saabye s house was situated, roared beneath the ice ; the sea dashed and 
 howled over the rocks, bursting in foam against his windows, and the 
 dogs filled the air with long continued moans. About the 12th of Janu 
 ary, the rays of the rising sun glittered on the rocks, and suddtnly faded, 
 like the high-raised hopes of man." 
 17* 
 
198 
 
 Note 17. Line 334. 
 
 "Madoc ! wandering son 
 Of that unconqucr d clime." 
 
 From researches made by British Antiquarians, it appears that tradi 
 tions exist of the discovery of America, by Madoc ap Owen Guyneth, a 
 Welch Prince, in the year 117 . It is asserted that a colony was plant 
 ed by him, west of the Mississippi, and that their descendants have at 
 various times been recognized by travellers. The fact has been recorded 
 also, by the ancient poets of Wales, and the celebrated Mr. Southey has 
 founded upon it one of the most interesting modern epic poems in the 
 English language. In Howel s Letters, volume 2, page 71, it is recorded, 
 that Madoc ap Owen, Prince of Wales, made two voyages to America, at 
 the time specified : and the Welsh Cambria, translated into English, by 
 H. Lloyd, contains, in its 225th page, the reasons which induced that 
 Prince to undertake such an expedition. Some modern writers have em 
 ployed their pens in this investigation, among whom are Dr. Williams, 
 Rector of Sydenham, and the Rev. George Burder, late of Coventry, 
 England. 
 
 Note IS. Line 337, 
 
 tc The treasured minstrelsy 
 Of Taliesins harp." 
 
 Taliesin, who wrote in the sixth century, was one of the most cele 
 brated of the ancient Welch bards. His poems have been highly com 
 mended by the amateurs of the old Cambrian minstrelsy. The affinity of 
 the language of Wales to the Hebrew, has rendered its study interesting 
 to many classical scholars ; and recently, among the prizes offered in 
 Jesus College, Oxford, England, for the best six Englynion, on a passage 
 of Taliesin, beginning " Cymru fu, Cymru fydd." The early taste of 
 the Welch, for poetry and music, is well known. The knowledge of the 
 harp was considered essential to the character of a prince and a hero ; and 
 the bards received in the courts of their kings such dignity and honour, 
 as Homer asserts were enjoyed by Demodocus and Phemius v in the first 
 ages of Greece. 
 
199 
 
 Note 19. Line 37(5. 
 
 " Perchance in his lone cell 
 At Valladvlid" 
 
 Columbus expired in obscurity, at Valladolid, on the 25th of May, 
 1506, in his 59th year, exhausted by hardships and infirmities. The 
 discoverer of America, like the conqueror of Mexico, found the close of 
 his days rendered wretched by the persecution of enemies, and the chilling 
 indifference of those from whom he had expected patronage and consola 
 tion. 
 
 Note 20. Line 386. 
 
 " Mark d thy seers 
 Mid the dim vista of futurity 
 Ought like the step of Cortes f " 
 
 It is recorded bv Robertson, that an opinion prevailed almost univer- 
 sally among the Mexicans, that some dreadful calamity would befall their 
 country, by means of formidable invaders who should come from regions 
 towards the rising sun. Their superstitious credulity saw in the Spaniards 
 the instruments of that fatal revolution which they dreaded, and this in 
 some measure accounts for the success of Cortes, with his ill-appointed 
 force, over the monarch of a great and populous empire. 
 
 When the spoilers, in descending from the mountains of Chalco, caught 
 their first view of the vast plain of Mexico, interspersed with fertile and 
 cultivated fields, enriched with a lake resembling the sea in extent, whose 
 banks were encompassed with large towns, and whose bosom was beautified 
 with an island, where rose the capital city, adorned with its temples and 
 turrets, they were impressed at once with a conviction of the great wealth 
 of the country, and with an irresistible desire to possess it. After the hu 
 miliating death of Montezuma, and the more barbarous subjugation of 
 Guatimozin, the imperial city yielded to its conquerors, August 21, 
 1521, after sustaining a siege of 75 days. This event, the most 
 memorable of any in the conquest of America, preceded the death of 
 Cortes 25 years. The neglect of his country embittered the declining 
 life of the victor ; and it was decreed, that the punishment of his injustice 
 and cruelty should be inflicted, not by the vengeance of those whom he 
 had injured, but by the ingratitude of those he had served. 
 
200 
 
 Note 2 [.Line 400. 
 
 " Deep were thy prison sighs, 
 Ahatualpa." 
 
 The annals of the crimes of man are darkened with no blacker instance 
 of perfidy, than that of Pizarro to the unfortunate monarch of Peru. 
 Confiding in the protestations of the Spaniard, he advanced to the distance 
 of a league from his city, to pay him a visit of respect. Pizarro in 
 structed a priest to proclaim some of the articles of the Popish faith, 
 strangely intermixed with the claims of the crown of Spain upon the New 
 World, to which Ahatualpa not immediately assenting, the desperado 
 seized him as his prisoner, and gave the signal of assault upon his followers. 
 
 The carnage continued till the close of day, and the Peruvians, unpre 
 pared for combat, and ignorant of the mode of European warfare, left 
 4000 dead upon the field, without scarcely making an impression upon 
 the phalanx of their enemies. The imprisoned Inca made liberal offers 
 for his ransom, and his subjects, like those of Richard Coeur de Lion, 
 would have stripped the churches of their consecrated gold, to purchase 
 liberty for their beloved sovereign. The apartment in which he was con- 
 fmed was 22 feet in length and 1 6 in breadth, and Pizarro demanded that 
 it should be filled with vessels of gold, as high as he could reach. The 
 line of demarcation was drawn upon the wall the Peruvians hastened to 
 heap the gold to the standard which avarice had prescribed, but with abomi 
 nable treachery the Inca was detained in captivity. He was brought to 
 a mock trial, and condemned to be burnt alive. The miserable monarch 
 was offered, at the place of doom, that alternative which is allowed the 
 victims of the " Auto da fe," by the mercy of the Inquisition, to confess 
 the Romish faith, and be strangled at the stake, or continue in heresy, 
 and endure the anguish of the flame. Ahatualpa bowed to the baptismal 
 font, and fell an immediate victim to the fury of those who, professing the 
 * name of Christ, in works denied him." This execrable deed was per 
 petrated in the year 1533 ; and, on the 26th of June 1541, Pizarro was 
 destroyed by conspiracy in the city of Lima. The record of his fame is 
 stained with atrocious barbarity ; and he may be characterized, as the in 
 habitants of Melita unjustly designated the shipwrecked apostle, as " a 
 murderer, whom, though he had escaped the sea, yet vengeance suffered 
 not to live." 
 
201 
 :22. Line 421. 
 
 " The Lusitanian bands 
 Came flocking." 
 
 The discovery of Brazil is usually placed in the year 1500. The 
 honour of that event is ascribed to Perez Alvarez Cabral, a Portuguese 
 naval commander. He originally gave it the name of Santa Cruz, but 
 this was changed to Brazil, by King Emmanuel. The derivation of the 
 latter name is from Brasas, a Portuguese word, signifying " glowing fire, 
 or a red coal," which colour resembles that produced by the celebrated 
 tree " ibiripitanga," commonly called Brazil wood, with which that coun 
 try abounds. 
 
 Mote 23. Line 433. 
 
 " Snatch d fir themselves a cold Acadia, white 
 With frost, and drifted snow." 
 
 Acadia, the original name given by the French to Nova-Scotia, was 
 their first possession in the New World. It was granted, in the year 
 1603, to De Mons, with somewhat indefinite boundaries, by Henry IV. 
 of France. Settlements were made in Canada, five years after, by the 
 same nation. Quebec, the capital, was reduced by General Wolfe in 
 1759, the year after his conquest of Cape Breton, or " Isle Royale." 
 The whole of Canada was ceded to Great-Britain, by the treaty at Paris, 
 in 17G3. 
 
 Note 24. Line 43C. 
 
 * As Nilus mid the Abyssinian wastes 
 Unseals through fringed reeds and willows dank 
 His azure eyes " 
 
 The small source whence the St. Lawrence takes its rise, reminds us 
 of the two parent springs of the Nile, whose size Rollin compares to that 
 of a coach-wheel. They are, he remarks, thirty paces distant from each 
 other, and are sometimes called eyes, " the same word, in Arabic, signify 
 ing both eye and fountain." 
 
 Note 25. Line 454. 
 
 " Poor German exile." 
 
 The emigration from Germany to the United States, has been greater 
 In recent times, than has generally been imagined. Only in the short 
 
202 
 
 period included between July 12th, 1817, and the beginning of the year 
 1818, nineteen vessels arrived, bringing passengers to the number of 
 6000. They were of every age, from infancy to eighty years, and many 
 ^ them so P oor > tk at they were compelled to bind themselves out for a 
 term of service, to defray the expenses of their scantily provided passage. 
 M. von Furstenwiirther, who was officially appointed to examine the situ 
 ation of his countrymen who had emigrated to the United States, reports, 
 that " the ships made use of in this service, are commonly of the worst 
 quality, old and unseaworthy, ad the commanders ignorant, inexperienced, 
 and brutal. I was on board of a vessel at the Holder, July 7th, 1817, 
 which had formerly been a Russian ship of the line, which a Dutchman 
 had bought for the sake of carrying German emigrants to Philadelphia. 
 There were already four or five hundred souls on board, and the vessel 
 was not to sail without her complement of passengers. I have found the 
 misery of most of the German emigrants greater, and the condition of all 
 more forlorn and helpless than I could have imagined. A ship arrived 
 from Amsterdam at Baltimore, in the summer of 1817, the greater part 
 of whose passengers had not paid their freight. Two families were bought 
 by free negroes in Maryland, but the Germans resident in Baltimore 
 were so disgusted, that they immediately rebought them, and formed an 
 association to prevent the recurrence of any such degrading abuse." 
 
 " Laws have been passed in Philadelphia," says the North-American 
 Review, " for the protection of German redemptioners ; and by these it 
 was established, that the extreme term of service, in ordinary cases, for 
 adults, is four years, and two years for the shortest term. Children un 
 der four years old, are not bound, but follow their parents ; males over 
 four, are bound to serve till they are 21, and females till they are eighteen 
 years old." Stern realities, to those who parted from their native country 
 with the expectation of finding in America something like Eden restored. 
 
 Note 26. Line 482. 
 
 " Still thy breast conceals 
 The feudal spirit." 
 
 " In Germany the feudal institutions still subsist with great vigour. 
 Its great princes possess all the feudal privileges." Robertson s Scotland. 
 
203 
 
 27. Line 494. 
 
 " The form of Conde gleams 
 As when at Jarnaz, rising o er his ivounds." 
 
 The intrepid Conde approached the battle of Jarnac, which was sustain 
 ed by the Huguenots with such constancy in the year 1569, with an arm 
 debilitated and in a state of suffering. Entering the field, his leg also was 
 broken, by the accidental rearing of the horse of his brother in law. Ris 
 ing superior to pain, he exclaimed to his followers, " Nobility of France ! 
 know, that the prince of Conde, with an arm in a scarf, and a leg broken, 
 fears not to give battle, since you attend him." After displaying prodi 
 gies of valour, he was found, exhausted with fatigue, surrounded, and 
 taken captive. He was placed at the foot of a tree, by those who had 
 made him their prisoner, and, while in this defenceless condition, was bar 
 barously shot by Montesquieu, a captain in the guards of the Duke of 
 Anjou, whose master was supposed to have instigated the infamous deed, 
 from motives of personal animosity. The persecuted Huguenots ever 
 cherished with tender gratitude the memory of their great benefactor. 
 We may trace a strong expression of this affectionate sentiment, in the 
 fact recorded by Heriot, in his " travels through the Canadas," that the 
 name of Conde was given, by the early French settlers, to Lake Superior, 
 as if they were anxious that his fame should find a monument in the most 
 magnificent body of fresh and. pellucid waters which the globe affords. 
 
 JVore 2Q.Line 505. 
 
 " His eye that Hero turnd 
 Toward the New World." 
 
 It is well known that Admiral Coligny had contemplated a removal 
 with the Huguenots, where, enjoying liberty of conscience, they might be 
 enabled without dread of death to say, " after the way which ye call here 
 sy, so worship we the God of our fathers." Permission had actually been 
 accorded him, to conduct his adherents to the Floridas, but the design 
 was deferred until the commencement of hostilities detained him to exhibit, 
 on the continent of Europe, the invincible firmness and constancy of his 
 character. He was the first victim of the diabolical massacre at Parrs, on 
 
204 
 
 St.. Bartholomew s day, 1572. Having been previously wounded by a 
 hired assassin, and disenabled from defending himself, he was murdered in 
 his chamber by a party led on by his implacable enemy, the Duke of 
 
 Guise. 
 
NOTES 
 
 TO 
 
 Note 1. Line 24. 
 
 " still their eyes were bent 
 In the dark caverns of the earth to grope 
 For drossy ore." 
 
 The thirst of gold, which excited both the enterprize and the barbarity 
 of the settlers of South-America, pervaded in some degree the colonists 
 of Virginia. About the year 1607, a glittering earth was discovered in 
 the channel of a small stream near Jamestown, and from that time, says 
 Stith in his history, " there was no thought, no discourse, no hope, and 
 no work, but to dig gold, wash gold, refine gold, and load gold." Capt. 
 Smith s representations of the folly of such conduct had no effect, and 
 they persisted in loading a vessel for England with this drossy dust. 
 " Two vessels," says Judge Marshall, " returned thither in the spring 
 and summer of 1608, one laden with this dust, and the other with cedar: 
 the first remittances ever made from America by an English colony." 
 
 Note 2. Line 45. 
 
 " The Poet lurd 
 His muse to emigrate." 
 
 Among the colonists of New England, who came under the protection 
 of the son of Sir Ferdinando Gorges, in 1623, was the Rev. William 
 Morrell, an Episcopal Clergyman, bearing a Commission from the Ec 
 clesiastical Court in England to exercise superintendency over such 
 churches as might be established in the new region. He was a man of 
 
 18 
 
206 
 
 classical taste, and described that part of the country which he explored, in 
 an elegant Latin poem, a few specimens of which are subjoined with an 
 attempt at translation. But he early made the discovery that the climate 
 was uncongenial to his favourite art, and too frigid for the expansion of 
 genius, and he returned to his native country, after an absence of ene 
 year. 
 
 " Hactenus ignotam populis ego carmine primus, 
 
 Te Nova, de veteri cui contigit Anglia nomen, 
 
 Aggredior trepidus pingui celebrare Minerva. 
 
 Fer mihi numen opera, cupienti singula plectro 
 
 Pandere veridico, quse nuper vidimus ipsi : 
 
 Ut breviter vereque sonent modulamina nostra, 
 
 Temperiem cosli, vim terroe, munera ponti, 
 
 Et varies gentis mores, velamina cultus. 
 
 Anglia felici merito Nova nomine gaudens, 
 
 Soevos nativi mores pertoesi coloni, 
 
 Indigni penitus populi tellure feraci, 
 
 Moesta superfusis attollit fletibus ora, 
 
 Antiques precibus flectens ardentibus Anglos, 
 
 Numinis seterni felicem lumine gentem 
 
 Efficere : aeternis quos nunc peritura tenebris." 
 " Sunt etenim populi minimi sermonis, et oris 
 
 Austeri, risusque parum, soevique superbi ; 
 
 Constricto nodis hirsute crine sinistro, 
 
 Imparibus formis tendentes ordine viUos ; 
 
 Mollia magnanima peragentes otia gentes, 
 
 Arte sagittifera pollentes, cursibus, armis 
 
 Astutae ; recto, robusto corpore et alto, 
 
 Pellibus indutae cervinis, frigora contra 
 
 Aspera." 
 
 " Num sua lunari distinguunt tempora motu, 
 * Non quot Phoebus habet cursus, sed quot sua conjux 
 
 Expletus vicibus convertat Cynthia cursus : 
 
 Noctibus enumerant sua tempora, nulla diebus, 
 
 Mosque du s Indis est inservire duobus, 
 
 Quorum mollis, amans, bona dans, inimica, repellens 
 
207 
 
 Unus, amore bonum venerantur : at invidus alter, 
 Dizos efflmdens cum turbine, fulgura nimbos. 
 Afficiensque malis variis, morbisque nefandis, 
 Et violentis : hunc gelida formidine adorant." 
 
 Hail, unknown World ! in shades so long enroll d ! 
 My trembling voice reveals thee to the Old, 
 I, of rude wit, and undistinguish d name, 
 Inscribe thy record on the scroll of fame, 
 Myself a stranger, choose the stranger s theme, 
 And first for thee invoke the poet s dream : 
 Oh ! may some heavenly Muse th attempt inspire 
 And pour her spirit o er my shrinking lyre. 
 
 Thy genial breezes bear the blush of health, 
 Earth spreads her gifts, and Ocean yields his wealth, 
 Yet mid thy happy lot incessant sighs 
 Heave thy pure breast, and tears distain thine eyes, 
 Thy abject race a speechless sorrow wakes, 
 And still thine eye its supplication makes, 
 For some blest beam to light their hopeless tomb, 
 And snatch their souls from everlasting gloom. 
 
 Men, spare in language, and of brow austere, 
 Averse from laughter, and in wrath severe, 
 Supreme in strength the stubborn bow to wield, 
 And bold in courage mid the blood-stain d field ; 
 Men of proud spirit, and of fierce design, 
 Tho oft in lingering indolence supine, 
 Swift in the race as speeds the rushing storm, 
 With wind- swept tresses, and majestic form, 
 Clad in rude skins that mark the hunter s toil, 
 Throng the dark wild, but shun a cultur d soil. 
 Not by the smile which ardent Phoebus gives, 
 When to her annual goal the Earth arrives, 
 Not by the changes of revolving Day, 
 Their time they measure, or existence weigh : 
 But by the lamp which gentle Cynthia burns, 
 
208 
 
 As round our orb her silver axle turns, 
 
 And by the march of slow majestic Night, 
 
 Whose tardy vigils mock the trembling light. 
 
 Two Pow rs unseen, their humbled liearts confess, 
 
 One, full of good, omnipotent to bless, 
 
 And one, in clouds who veils his awful form, 
 
 His sport the lightning, and his voice the storm: 
 
 To that, in love, their grateful vows they pour, 
 
 And this, through fear, with abject rites adore. 
 
 Another poet, also, at a still earlier period, hazarded a transporta 
 tion to our western clime. This was Stephen Parmenias, a man of 
 great learning, who was born at Buda, in Hungary, about the middle 
 of the 16th century. For the completion of his education, he visited 
 the most celebrated European universities, and during his residence 
 in England, forming a friendship for Sir Humphrey Gilbert, the half 
 brother of Sir Walter Raleigh, decided to accompany him in his expe 
 dition to America, under the patronage of Queen Elizabeth. In the 
 summer of 1583, they arrived at Newfoundland, and took possession 
 of it, in the name of the British crown. The Hungarian poet pre 
 served the memory of this expedition, in an elegant Latin poem, rich 
 with classical allusions, but on his return to Europe the same year, 
 unfortunately perished in a violent storm, together with the admiral, 
 and nearly a hundred of the crew. The poem alluded to, and like 
 wise a more particular account of this interesting Hungarian, may be 
 found in the ninth volume of the " Collections of the Massachusetts 
 Historical Society." 
 
 Note 3. Line 75. 
 
 " Thrice had he beheld 
 
 His fading race scattered like autumn leaves." 
 
 Po what an told Captain Smith that he was " very old, and had seen 
 the death of all his people thrice, so that not one of the first genera 
 tion was living beside himself." Mr. Jefferson, in his " Notes on 
 Virginia, relates that at the first settlement of the English, the terri 
 tories of Powhatan. were said to comprise 8000 square miles 
 
209 
 
 No. 4. Line 81. 
 
 The brave accomplished Smith." 
 
 Capt. John Smith, who accompanied the Colony, which, in 1607, 
 planted itself at Jamestown, displayed so many uncommon talents, 
 suited to the exigencies of those difficult times, that the early histori 
 ans have been eloquent in his praise. Stith, in his History of Vir 
 ginia, written in the year 1747, records in his antiquated style, th 
 testimony of the soldiers, and fellow-adventurers of Smith. " They 
 confess that in that age, there were many captains who were no 
 soldiers, but that he was a soldier of the true old English stamp, 
 who fought, not for gain or empty praise, but for his country s 
 honour and the public good ; that his wit, courage and success 
 were worthy of eternal memory ; that by the mere force of his 
 virtue and courage, he awed the Indian kings, and made them sub 
 mit and bring presents ; that notwithstanding such a stern and 
 invincible resolution, there was seldom seen a milder and more 
 tender heart than his was ; that he had nothing in him counterfeit 
 or sly ; but was open, honest, and sincere, and that they never 
 knew a soldier before him, so free from the military vices of wine, 
 tobacco, debts, dice, and oaths." Judge Marshall, in his biography 
 of Washington, in describing the expedients which Capt. Smith 
 devised, and the dangers which he encountered for the protection 
 of the colony, remarks, that he preserved his health unimpaired, 
 his spirits unbroken, and his judgment unclouded, amidst the gen 
 eral misery and dejection." After his liberation from captivity by 
 Powhatan, he concerted measures for the safety of the colony, and 
 the welfare of his government, he undertook a bold expedition to 
 explore the waters of the Chesapeake, and to make researches into 
 the countries upon its shores. " He entered," says Marshall, "most 
 of the large creeks, and sailed up many of the great rivers to their 
 falls. He made accurate observations on the extensive territories 
 through which he passed, and on the various tribes inhabiting 
 them, with whom he alternately fought, negotiated and traded. 
 In the various situations in which he found himself, he always 
 displayed judgment, courage, and that presence of mind, which is 
 so essential to the character of a commander; and ho never 
 
 18* 
 
210 
 
 finally to inspire the savages whom he encountered, with the most 
 exalted opinion of himself, and of his nation. When we consider 
 that he sailed above three thousand miles in an open boat ; when 
 we contemplate the dangers, the hardships, he endured, and the 
 fortitude, patience, and courage with which he bore them ; when 
 we reflect on the useful and important additions which he made to 
 the stock of knowledge, respecting America, then possessed by his 
 countrymen, we shall not hesitate to say that few voyages of dis 
 covery, undertaken at any time, reflect more honour on those 
 engaged in them, than this does on Captain Smith." 
 
 Note r o.Line 92. 
 " ere Manhood s tinge had bronz d 
 His blooming chetk." 
 
 Captain Smith was born at Willoughby in Itlsp, and at the time 
 of his slavery in Constantinople, when most of the romantic adven 
 tures of his life had terminated, the hero had only attained the 
 age of 23 years. 
 
 Note 6. Line 171. 
 
 " Where Marseilles retreats 
 To rocky barrier." 
 
 Marseilles, the ancient Massilia, is situated at the foot of a 
 rocky mountain near the sea. Its natural advantages for commerce 
 were such, that its trade flourished even in the days of Gothic bar 
 barism. The politeness and literature of its early inhabitants, 
 were so conspicuous, that Livy pronounced it to have been as 
 much polished as if it had risen in the midst of Greece ; and Ci 
 cero denominated it the " Athens of the Gauls." 
 
 Note l.Line 183. 
 
 " Oft they described 
 
 The cell ivith lingering rainbow ever bright." 
 The niche, in which the statue of the Virgin is placed in the 
 " Casa Santa" of the church at Loretto, is adorned among other 
 costly declarations, with 71 large Bohemian Topazes; near it 
 stands an angel of cast gold, profusely enriched with gems and 
 diamonds ; and the lustre of the precious stones with which this 
 .cell is ornamented, has been compared by pilgrims to a rainbow, 
 
211 
 
 eclipsing the lamps with which it is contrasted. The chamber, 
 containing this statue, is alleged by the adherents of the Romish 
 church, to have been carried through the air by angels in the 
 month of May, 1291, from Galilee to Tersato, in Dalmatia. From 
 thence it was removed in the same manner, after having reposed 
 somewhat more than four years, and set down in a wood in 
 Italy, about midnight in the month of December, where it remain 
 ed nearly 200 years, before it was noticed by any author of that 
 country. 
 
 j\T te 8. Line 302. 
 
 " Almost it seem d 
 
 That the strange fable caught from Pagan lore." 
 The doctrine of Purgatory, which some have derived from the 
 Platonic fancies of Origen, the Montanism of Tertullian, pretended 
 visions, or doubtful expressions of the later fathers, was intioduced 
 in part towards the close of the fifth century, but not positively 
 affirmed till the year 1140, nor made an article of faith, till the 
 council of Trent. 
 
 Note 9. Line 377. 
 "And seas of flame. " 
 
 Moscow, in its conflagration, was emphatically compared to an 
 tl Ocean of flame." 
 
 Note WLine 441. 
 
 " There Samos spread 
 Her beauteous harbours o er the violet wave, 
 While in perspective soft her green fields gleam d 
 In semi-annual harvest." 
 
 Between Samos and Icaria, the intensely deep blue colour of 
 the water has been noticed by voyagers ; and in the Childe 
 Harolde of Lord Byron, it is denominated the " dark blue sea." 
 Athenaeus relates, that in Samos, the fig-trees, apple-trees, rose- 
 trees, and vines, bore fruit twice in a year. 
 
 Note 11. Line 446. 
 
 " Rosy Rhodes." 
 
 The etymology of Rhodes, has been sought in the Greek word 
 Rhodoiv signifying a rose, with which flower that island 
 
212 
 
 abounded. The classical traveller, Clarke, observes, "from the 
 number of appellations it has borne at different periods, it might 
 at last have received the name of the Polynoman Island. It has 
 been called Ophiusa, from the number of its serpents ; Telchynis ; 
 Corymbria ; Trinacria ; JEthraea, from its cloudless sky ; Asteria, 
 because at a distance its figure appears like that of a star ; Poessa ; 
 Atabyria; Oloessa; Macaria, and Pelagia. Some are of opinion 
 that Rhodes was first peopled by the descendants of Dodanim, the 
 fourth son of Javan. Both the Septuagint and Samaritan trans 
 lation of the Pentateuch, instead of Dodanim use Rodonim ; and 
 by this appellation the Greeks always distinguished the Rhodi- 
 ans. M 
 
 Note 12. Line 449. 
 
 " Those golden showers which testified the love 
 Of ardent Ph&bus." 
 
 The exuberant fertility of the soil of this island gave occasion 
 to those fables embellished by the poets, of golden showers which 
 they pretended to have fallen upon it. They feigned also a story of 
 the love of Phcebus for Rhodes, and asserted it to have been an un 
 inhabitable marsh, until it was loved by him, and drawn from the 
 waters by his powerful influence. But now, under Turkish oppression, 
 the island no longer merits the appellation of " fortunate ;" and 
 the golden showers of fiction, are changed to the iron influence of 
 tyranny and desolation. 
 
 Note 13. Line 563. 
 
 " Veqiasians Coliseum, where the Goth, 
 Stood in amazement." 
 
 The Coliseum, sometimes called the Flavian amphitheatre, was 
 commenced by Flavins Vespasian, in the year 72, but finished by 
 Titus, who employed upon it such of the Jews, as were brought in 
 slavery to Rome. This vast structure was viewed with wonder by 
 the Gothic conquerors ; and the venerable Bede records a prover 
 bial expression of the pilgrims of the north, by which in the 8th 
 century they testified their admiration : " As long as the Coliseum 
 stands, will Rome stand, when the Coliseum falls, Rome must fall, 
 and with Rome, the world shall fall." 
 
213 
 
 Note 14. Line 578. 
 
 " through 
 Of Devastation s wantoru jss." 
 
 Notwithstanding the Coliseum had in various instances been the sub 
 ject of dilapidation, had furnished stone for the construction of the Far- 
 nese Palace, by Michael Angelo, and had even been thrown open as a 
 common quarry, in the 14th century, for the use of the multitude, yet in 
 the middle of the 16th century, its exterior circumference of 1612 feet 
 still remained inviolate, and a triple elevation of fourscore arches was pre 
 served, rising to the height of 108 feet. 
 
 N t e ]5 Li n , e 579. 
 
 " Where the pavilion with its purjrte pomp." 
 
 Persons of the highest dignity had places assigned to them in a part of 
 the amphitheatre called the Podium, near the centre of which was the 
 Imperial i avilion, lined with silk, and embellished in the most splendid 
 manner. 
 
 Note 16. Li ne 582. 
 
 " The Cunei, dividing with strict care 
 
 Patrician from Plebeian . 
 
 The Cunei distinguished the seats appointed for the different classes of 
 the people, so that every one might be conducted to the place allotted, by 
 the laws of the amphitheatre, to his respective rank. The strictest atten 
 tion was exercised, lest any might obtain a dignity of station to which he 
 was not entitled ; and the Cunei were under the direction of officers called 
 Locarii, while the general care of the Coliseum was entrusted to the 
 grand Villicus amphitheatri. 
 
 Note 17. Line 590. 
 
 " Those Vomitories, whence the noisy crowd 
 
 Issud abrupt." 
 
 The. entrances to the passages and stair-cases were styled Vomitories ; 
 and the crowd passing through them to witness favourite exhibitions was 
 immense. Justus Lipsius asserts, that the Coliseum was capable of ac 
 commodating 87,000 spectators on benches j and Fontana added 22,OOO 
 for the galleries, stair-cases, and passages. On the ground plan, the ex* 
 
214 
 
 terior surface of the ellipsis covered a superficies of 246,66 1 feet, (more 
 than five and a half ?cres,) and consisted of eighty arches, opening into a 
 spacious double corridor, from whence radiated eighty passages and stair- 
 tases, leading either to two inner corridors, to the arena, or to the galle 
 ries. 
 
 Note IS. Line 594. 
 
 " The Dreading Velum s gorgeoiis canopy." 
 
 At the summit of the Flavian amphitheatre was a sixth story, or rather 
 floor, appropriated to those who managed the Velum, which was an awn 
 ing of various colours, occasionally stretched to protect the audience from 
 rain, or the heat of the sun, and which, by means of cords and pullies, 
 could be extended or withdrawn at pleasure. 
 
 Note 19. Line 601. 
 
 " Fought the stern Gladiators." 
 
 The combats of Gladiators, were early exhibited at Rome, and the 
 people became so strongly attached to these entertainments, that the em 
 perors found it politic to indulge their barbarous taste. Julius Caesar, 
 during his aedileship, gratified the populace with combats between 320 pair 
 of gladiators ; and Gordian, before the imperial purple was conferred upon 
 him, gave those shows twelve times in a year, in some of which 500 
 couple were engaged. Titus exhibited a show of gladiators, wild beasts, 
 and representations of sea-fights upon the Coliseum, which lasted 100 
 days, and Trajan continued an exhibition of the same nature during one 
 third of a year, in the course of which he brought out 10,000 gladiators. 
 The master, by whom these miserable combatants were instructed in the 
 science of defence, forced them to swear that they would fight till death, 
 and if they displayed cowardice, they were made to expire by fire, sword, 
 or whips, unless the voice of the emperor, or the people, gave them life. 
 
 Note 20. Line 613. 
 
 " Which Jirst upon its sacred banner bore 
 
 The name of Christ." 
 
 "The disciples were Jirst called Christians at Antioch." Acts sh 
 26. Ignatius was the second bishop of this church, and, according to 
 Eusebius, succeeded Euodius, near the close of the first century after the 
 death of Christ. He suffered martyrdom in the amphitheatre at Rome, 
 
215 
 
 during the persecution of Trajan ; and was venerated, even awiong his foes, 
 for his years and piety. 
 
 Note 21. Line 615. 
 
 " Full on thy right ear pour d 
 The melody of Heaven." 
 
 Ignatius was the first who introduced antiphonal singing among the 
 churches of the East, which, according to Socrates, the ecclesiastical his 
 torian, he first learnt from a vision, in which the glorified spirits of heaven 
 appeared, singing in alternate measures, hymns of praise to the Everlast 
 ing Trinity. 
 
 Note 22. Line 661. 
 
 " Thy curb controul d 
 The tossing Danube." 
 
 Trajan, in the year 104, constructed a bridge over the Danube, which 
 was long admired as a relic of antiquity. After his conquest of Assyria, 
 he descended the Tigris with his fleet, and had the honour of being both 
 the first and the last Roman general who navigated the Indian Oceajj. 
 
 Note 23. Line 670. 
 
 " The arch of Titus, rich unth victories 
 O er humbled Judah." 
 
 The arch of Titus ie of the composite order, and represents upon its 
 frieze his conquest of Judea, a delineation of the river Jordan, with the 
 captives who attended his triumph, and the spoil and sacred utensils frora 
 the desolated temple. 
 
 Note 24. Line 709. 
 
 <( who early wise 
 Learnt with a philosophic sway to quell 
 The passions mutiny." 
 
 Marcus Aurelius Antoninus, who erected the celebrated Antonine 
 column, to the memory of Antoninus Pius, made such great and early 
 proficiency in his studies, that at the age of twelve years he assumed the 
 philosophical gown. With the gravity of a philosopher he blended no 
 severity, but continued virtuous without pride, and grave without melan 
 choly. Such was the enthusiasm of his gratitude to those who had aided 
 
216 
 
 him in the pursuits of knowledge, that he kept their images of gold in his 
 domestic chapel, and offered garlands of flowers at their tombs. 
 
 Note 25. Line 728. 
 
 " --the blest Christian Emperor Constantine." 
 
 The splendid reign of Constantine, when the Church past from a state 
 of suffering to one of comparative power, when she was appointed to 
 " arise from the dust, and put on her beautiful garments," is well known 
 to every reader of ecclesiastical history. Among the triumphs of Chris 
 tianity which shed lustre on the annals of this prosperous prince, may be 
 numbered the prohibition of the barbarous spectacles of gladiators, which 
 was decreed by him in the East, on the first of October 325, and by 
 Theodoric in the West, about the year 500. 
 
 Note 26. Line 763. 
 
 " like the brand 
 Of mighty Scanderberg." 
 
 The interesting scene of modern Greece contending with her oppressors, 
 for her ancient birthright, and her long-trampled liberty, leads the mind 
 back to the noble exploits of Scanderberg the Great, Prince of Albania. 
 He was sent, when young, as a hostage to Amurath II. by his father, 
 who held his territory in subjection to the Turkish government. Here 
 he received the best education consistent with the Mahometan system, 
 and so early distinguished himself for courage and military ability, that 
 he received the command of a body of troops, at the age of eighteen. 
 The death of his father in 1432, filled him with an unconquerable desire 
 to redeem his native principality from Turkish thraldom. Attending the 
 Mahometan army into Hungary, he entered into an alliance with the ce 
 lebrated Huniades, king of that country, and soon after began to contend 
 for the liberties of Albania. After many years of warfare with Mahomet 
 II. the successor of Amurath, he established his dominion, and compelled 
 his foes to propose conditions of peace. His invincible courage was ac 
 knowledged throughout Europe ; and in him the spirit of the ancient 
 heroes and conquerors of Greece seems to have revived. He died at the 
 age of 63, and from that period Albania has been the subject of Turkish 
 oppression. Even foes were constrained to pay homage to the valour and 
 greatness of Scanderberg, and when they besieged Lissa, the place of his 
 
217 
 
 sepulchre, they disinterred his bones, and had them set in silver, viewing 
 them as precious relics and powerful amulets. 
 
 Note 27. Line 804. 
 
 " Alba-Regalis and Olumpagh fell 
 
 Shaming the Moslem." 
 
 " During the sieges of Olumpagh, and Alba-Regalis, young Smith was 
 the projector of stratagems, and the conductor of certain modes of attack, 
 which manifested an unusual talent for the art of war, and rendered the 
 most essential services to the Christian cause. The command of a horse, 
 and the rank of first major, were conferred on him, as an acknowledge 
 ment of his high desert." Biography of Capt. Smith. 
 
 Note 28. Line 886. 
 
 " while honours and reivards 
 Whelm him in rich profusion." 
 
 Smith, at his return from this eventful tournament, was attended by 
 6000 men at arms to the pavilion of the general, where he received the 
 most flattering reception, and was presented with a noble war-horse, richly 
 caparisoned, and a scimitar and belt of great value. The Duke of Tran 
 sylvania gave him his c miniature set in gold, accompanied with the 
 kindest expressions of regard, and issued letters patent of nobility, giving 
 him for his arms three Turks heads emblazoned on a shield. These 
 were afterwards recorded in the herald s office in England, and became 
 the permanent arms of Smith and his descendants. 
 
 Note 29. Line 893. 
 
 " From heaps of slain, 
 
 In dark disastrous hour the youth is drawn 
 Half lifeless " 
 
 This was at the unfortunate engagement ofRottenton, in 1602, when 
 the carnage of the Christian army was very extensive. Smith was left 
 on the field among the dead, but the- pillagers perceiving that he still 
 breathed, and supposing from the elegance of his armour, that his ransom 
 would be ample, took great pains to restore his life. After this was 
 effected, and no one sought his redemption, he was sold at auction with 
 other prisoners, and purchased by a bashaw, as a present to his mistress, 
 a lady of distinguished beauty. 
 
 19 
 
218 
 
 Note SO. Line 928. 
 
 " Driven from the beauteous shades." 
 
 The partiality of Charitza exciting the jealousy of her mother, Smith 
 was sent into Tartary, to her brother, the timor-bashaw of Nalbrits, on 
 the Palus Moaotis. 
 
 Note 31. Line 938. 
 
 " When the tyrant s wrath 
 Heaped insolence imth outrage, his bold hand 
 Avengd it in his blood." 
 
 Smith, exasperated by the personal brutalities of his master, struck 
 him dead with a threshing bat, in his barn, about a league from his man 
 sion. Burying the body beneath the straw, he arrayed himself in the 
 clothes of the dead bashaw, mounted his horse, and with only a knapsack 
 of corn for his subsistence, fled for three days with the utmost precipitation 
 through the deserts of Circassia. Accidentally finding the main road to 
 Muscovy, he travelled tipon it 16 days, under the greatest pressure of 
 hunger and fatigue, until he reached a garrison on the Russian frontier, 
 where he found a safe refuge and a cordial welcome. 
 
 Note 32. Line 949. 
 
 " he surveyed 
 Europe s exhaustless stores." 
 
 After taking a range through various countries of Asia and Europe, 
 he met at Leipsic his faithful patron, the Duke of Transylvania, who 
 presented him with 1500 ducats to repair his decaying finances, and fur 
 nished him with letters of recommendation, setting forth his military ser 
 vices. He then took an extensive circuit through Germany, France and 
 Spain. He passed also into Africa, and was allured, says his biographer, 
 " by the rumours of war, and the native affinity of his mind for dangers, 
 to spend some time at the court of Morocco." This must have been at 
 the period of those competitions for the sovereignty which succeeded the 
 death of Muley Achmet in 1603, and which were finally decided by the 
 succession of his youngest son, Muley Sidon, who reigned until the year 
 1630. 
 
219 
 
 Note 33. Line 961. 
 
 t: Fring d ivith the rose-bay on its graaful stem." 
 The Nereum Oleander, a beautiful tree, delighting in moist situations, 
 adorns the margin of the Mulluvia, a considerable river, which rises in 
 Mount Atlas, and pursues its course to the Mediterranean, partly dividing 
 Algiers from Morocco. 
 
 Note 34. Line 971. 
 
 " neath the simple shade 
 Of /its umbrella, holds his Meshooar." 
 
 In the empire of Morocco, there is no code of laws, but the will of a 
 despotic monarch disposes of wealth, liberty, opinion, or existence, with 
 out appeal. Wherever he happens to be, he grants public audience four 
 times a week, for the distribution of justice, sitting on horseback, while a 
 groom holds an umbrella over his head. This the Moors call holding 
 the " Meshooar ;" though there is also a place in the city of Morocco 
 distinctively styled " the Meshooar," because devoted to these audiences. 
 It is surrounded by walls, and situated between the old palace and the 
 magnificent pavilions erected by Sidi Mahomet. 
 
 Note 35.~Line 988. 
 
 " Yet still the deep foundations of the main 
 
 Echo d those battle thunders." 
 
 Smith returned to his native country by the way of France, and in his 
 passage across the channel in a French galley, was in a desperate conflict 
 with two Spanish ships of war, which continued nearly three days, and 
 terminated in the discomfiture of the Spaniards. 
 
 Note 36. Line 994. 
 
 * A hardy pioneer to this New World, 
 Heiuing out danger s path." 
 
 Capt. Smith was one of the original company to which James I. under 
 the date of April 10th, 1606, granted letters patent for the colonization 
 of America. He was appointed to a seat in the first council of what was 
 then denominated the " South Colony," and though he met with the op 
 position which envy testifies to superior merit, he was afterwards elected 
 president of that body. He embarked with his associates from England, 
 
220 
 
 with Capt. Grosnold, on the 19th of December 1606, but did not arrive 
 on the coast of Virginia, until past the middle of the succeeding spring. 
 
 Xote ol.Line 1006. 
 
 " There enthrond 
 Sat great Powhatun." 
 
 The Indian monarch at this audience was seated on a throne somewhat 
 resembling a bedstead, clothed in a flowing robe composed of the skins of 
 the Racoon, with a fanciful coronet of feathers upon his head. His resi 
 dence was at Worowocomoco, and his sway not only extensive but imperial, 
 in the true signification of the term ; for he exercised dominion over thirty 
 tributary kings. 
 
 Note SS.Line 1024. 
 
 " JVo such kind repast 
 In gentle friendship, heralded thy death, 
 Poor Ugolino." 
 
 The death of Count Ugolino and his sons, by hunger, in the prison of 
 Pisa, during the contest of the Guelphs and Ghibellines, at the close of 
 the thirteenth century, furnished a subject for one of the most striking his 
 torical pictures of Sir Joshua Reynolds, and is described by Dante in his 
 " Inferno," with great poetical energy. 
 
 " Dreams wak d me ere the dawn, when in their sleep 
 
 I heard my children groan, and call for bread, 
 
 Oh cruel ! should no pity touch thy soul 
 
 To think how much a father s heart presag d ? 
 
 If now thou shedd st no tears, what have thy eyes 
 
 Been us d to weep at ? Now my boys awoke ; 
 
 The hour arriv d, when each expected food, 
 
 As wonted, would be brought him ; but his heart 
 
 Mistrusted, when each thought upon his dream, 
 
 And I oh horrible ! that instant heard 
 
 The dungeon s iron doors more firmly lock d : 
 
 In desperate silence on my sons I gaz d, 
 
 I could not weep my breast was turn d to 
 
 The little victims wept, jind one began, 
 
221 
 
 (My dear Anselmo,) Father ! why that look ! 
 What ails my Father ? 
 
 Ah ! I could not weep, 
 Nor answer all that clay, nor yet that night, 
 Till on the world another morn arose. 
 As faintly through our doleful prison gleam d 
 The tremulous ray, so I could view again 
 Each face, on which my features were imprest, 
 Both hands I gnaw d in agony and rage. 
 Sweet innocents ! They thought me hanger-stung, 
 And rising on a sudden, all exclaim d, 
 * Father ! our anguish would be less severe 
 If thou would st feed on us. This fleshly vest 
 Thou didst bestow ; now take it back again. 
 I check d my inward nature, lest my groans 
 Should aggravate their anguish. All were mute 
 That bitter day, and all the morrow. 
 
 Earth ! 
 
 Why didst thou not obdurate earth ! dispart ? 
 The fourth sad morning came, when at my feet 
 My Gaddo fell extended. Help, he cried, 
 Canst thou not help me, father ? and expir d. 
 Thus wither d as thou see st me, one by one 
 I saw my children ere the sixth morn, die. 
 Then seiz d with sudden blindness, on my knees 
 I grop d among them, calling each by name 
 For three days after they were dead. At length 
 Famine and death clos d up the scene of woe." 
 
 J\otc 39. Line 1065. 
 
 " one young timid maid 
 Sat near the tfirone." 
 
 The Princess Pocahontas, in many instances, besides the rescue of 
 Capt. Smith, signified a firm friendship for the English colony. From 
 famine and secret conspiracy, she was more than once the instrument of 
 deliverance. "Oft times," says Capt. Smith, in his history of Virginia, 
 
222 
 
 " in the utmost of my extremities, hath that blessed Pocahontas, the daugKr 
 ter of the great king of Virginia, saved my life." With the heroic mag 
 nanimity of a noble soul, she united the softness and tenderness of the 
 feminine character. Yet notwithstanding all her acts of disinterested 
 kindness to the English, she was treacherously decoyed by them on board 
 one of their vessels, and carried to Jamestown. Still their sense of hon 
 our moved them to treat her with all that respect which her correct de 
 portment and high rank deserved. 
 
 " The motive to this step," says Judge Marshall, in his Life of Wash 
 ington, " was a hope, that the possession of Pocahontas would give the 
 English an ascendancy over Powhatan, her father, who was known to 
 dote on her. In this, however, they were disappointed. Powhatan 
 offered first, corn, then friendship, if they would immediately restore his 
 daughter, but refused to come to any terms until that reparation was 
 made for what he resented as an act of treachery. During the detention 
 of the Princess at Jamestown, she made an impression on the heart of 
 Mr. Rolfe, a young gentleman of estimation in the colony, who also suc 
 ceeded in gaining her affections. They were married with the consent of 
 Powhatan, who by this event was entirely reconciled to the English, and 
 ever after continued their sincere friend." After the arrival of Pocahon 
 tas in England, with her husband, a petition was addressed in her behalf 
 to Queen Anne, by Capt. Smith, bearing the date of June 1616, in the 
 course of which he mentions, " Being taken prisoner by the power of 
 Powhatan, I received from this great savage exceeding great courtesy, 
 especially from Ids son Nantaquas, the manliest, comeliest, boldest spirit 
 that I ever saw in an Indian, and this sister Pocahontas, the king s most 
 dear and well-beloved daughter, whose compassionate, pitiful heart of my 
 desperate estate, gave me much cause to respect her. I being the first 
 Christian that this proud king and his grim attendants ever saw, and thus 
 enthralled in their barbarous power, I cannot say that I ever felt the least 
 occasion of want, which was in the power of these my mortal foes to pre 
 vent. After some six weeks falling under these savage courtiers, at the 
 moment of mv own execution, she hazarded the beating out of her own 
 brains to save mine, and then Nantaquas so prevailed with hisfather, that 
 I was safely conducted to Jamestown, where I found about 38 miserable, 
 poor and sick creatures, to keep possession for all those large territories of 
 
223 
 
 Virginia. Such was the weakness of this poor commonwealth, that had 
 not the Indians fed us, we directly had starved. And this relief, most 
 gracious Queen, was commonly brought us by the Lady Pocahontas, who, 
 notwithstanding all the changes when inconstant fortune turned our peace 
 into war, would not spare to dare to visit us ; and by her our jars have 
 been often appeased, and our wants still supplied. When her father, with the 
 utmost of his policy and power, sought to surprize me, having but eighteen 
 with me, the dark night could not affright her from adventuring through 
 the darksome woods, and with tearful eyes giving me the intelligence, 
 with her best advice how to escape his fury, which had the king known he 
 had surely slain her. She, under God, was the instrument to preserve 
 this colony from death, famine, ad utter confusion : for if in those times 
 it had been once dissolved, Virginia might have lain unto this day, as it 
 was at our arrival." 
 
 The age of Pocahontas, at the time of her saving the life of Capt;. 
 Smith, is usually fixed at thirteen years, though Mr. Davis, in a note to 
 his song of the " Angel of the Wild," represents her as a child of only 
 eleven years. As this poetical effusion happily displays the tender sensi 
 bility of that noble heroine, it is extracted as a close to this note. 
 THE ANGEL OF THE WILD. 
 
 " Sunt lachryma;." Virg. 
 Now blazes bright the wigwam -hall, 
 
 The plumed Chiefs are circled wide, 
 Above the crowd with lordly call 
 
 Sits Powhatan, in frowning pride. 
 The captive Smith, in bonds is brought, 
 
 His head reclines upon a stone, 
 The fatal club of Death is sought, 
 
 While tawny maids his fate bemoan. 
 When lo ! with scream of anguish loud, 
 
 A tender child, in gorgeous vest, 
 Runs to the stranger through the crowd, 
 
 And kneeling, clasps him to her breast. 
 See, see, her arms around him twin d, 
 And hear her pour the piteous wail ; 
 As if for hopeless love she pin d, 
 
224 
 
 Her tresses loose, her dear cheek pale. 
 " Stay, stay the club !" exclaims the king, 
 
 And hush the white man s dire alarms." 
 Then rushing through the shouting ring 
 
 He strains his daughter in his arms. 
 Fair Spirit ! nurs d in forest wild, 
 
 Whence caught thy breast those sacred flames 
 That mark thee Mercy s meekest child 
 
 Beyond proud Europe s titled dames. 
 Scalps and war-weapons met thy gaze, 
 
 And trophies wove in blood-stain d wreath 5 
 Thy birth-star was the funeral blaze, 
 
 Thy lullaby the song of death. 
 But Pity sought thee in the wild, 
 
 Invisible, thy cradle rock d, 
 Seraphic Love his offerings pil d 
 
 And heavenly graces round thee flock d. 
 
 Note 40. Line 1137. 
 
 "" While with the diamond seal of truth he stamps 
 His oathless treaty." 
 
 Ciarkson, in his life of William Penn, describes the manner in which 
 his great treaty with the Indians was confirmed, in the year 1682. " The 
 religious principles of Penn," says his biographer, " which led him to the 
 practice of the most scrupulous morality, did not permit him to look upon 
 the king s patent, or legal possession according to the laws of England, 
 as sufficient to establish his right to the country, without purchasing it by 
 fair and open bargain of the natives, to whom it properly belonged. He 
 had instructed commissioners who arrived in America before him, to buy 
 it of the latter, and to make with them a treaty of eternal friendship. 
 This, those commissioners had done, and now, by mutual agreement be 
 tween him and the Indian chiefs, it was to be solemnly ratified. He pro 
 ceeded, therefore, accompanied by his friends, consisting of men, women, 
 and young persons of both sexes, to Coaquannoc, the Indian name for 
 the place where Philadelphia now stands. On his arrival, he found the 
 sachems and their tribes assembling. They were seen through the woods, 
 
as far as the eye could reach, and looked frightfully both on account of 
 their number and their arms. The Quakers are reported to have been 
 but a handful in comparison, and without any weapon ; so that dismay and 
 terror must have seized them, had they not confided in the righteousness 
 of their cause. It is much to be regretted, when we have accounts of 
 minor treaties, between William Penn and the Indians, that no historian 
 has any particular detail of this, though so many mention it, and all con 
 cur in considering it the most glorious of any in the annals of the world. 
 There are, however, relations in Indian speeches, and traditions in Quaker 
 families, descended from those who were present on the occasion, from 
 which we may learn something concerning it. It appears that though the 
 parties .were to assemble at Coaquannoc, the treaty was made a little 
 higher up, at Shackamaxon. Upon this site, Kensington now stands, 
 the houses of which may be considered as the suburbs of Philadelphia. 
 There was at Shackamaxon, an elm tree of a prodigious size. To this, 
 the leaders on both sides repaired, approaching each other under its widely- 
 spreading branches. William Penn appeared in his usual dress. He 
 had neither crown, sceptre, mace, sword, halberd, or any insignia of emi 
 nence. He was distinguished only by wearing a sky-blue sash round his 
 waist, made of silk net-work, and of no larger dimensions than an officer s 
 military sash, which, except in colour, it resembled. On his right hand 
 was Col. Markham, his secretary and relative ; on his left, his friend 
 Pierson, followed by the train of Quakers. Before him were carried va 
 rious articles of merchandize, which, when they came near the Sachems, 
 were spread upon the ground. He held a roll of parchment, containing 
 the confirmation of the treaty of purchase and amity, in his hand. One 
 of the Sachems, who was the chief of them, then put upon his own head 
 a kind of chaplet, in which appeared a small horn. This, according to 
 scripture language, and among the primitive eastern nations, was an em 
 blem of kingly power ; and whenever the Chief who had a right to wear 
 it, put it on, it was understood that the place was made sacred, and the 
 persons of all present inviolable. Upon putting on this horn, all the In 
 dians threw down their bows and arrows, seating themselves round their 
 Chiefs, in the form of a half moon upon the ground. The principa 
 Sachem then announced to William Penn, by the aid of an interpreter, 
 that the nations were ready to hear him. He then said, that the Great 
 
226 
 
 Spirit, who made him and them, who ruled the heavens and the eartlu 
 and was acquainted with the innermost thoughts of man, knew that he 
 and his friends had a hearty desire to live in peace and friendship with 
 them, and serve them to the utmost of their power. It was not their 
 custom to use hostile weapons against their fellow-creatures, therefore, 
 came they to this treaty unarmed. Their object was not to do injury, 
 and thus provoke the Great Spirit, but to do good. They had met them 
 on the broad path-way of good faith and good will, so that no advantage 
 was to be taken on either side, but all was to be openness, brotherhood 
 and love. After these and other words, he unrolled the parchment, and 
 by means of the same interpreter, conveyed to them, article by article, 
 the conditions of the purchase, and the words of the contract then made 
 for their eternal union. Among other things, they were not to be mo 
 lested in their lawful pursuits, even in the territory they had alienated, for 
 it was to be common to them, as well as to the English. They were to 
 have the same liberty to do all things therein, relating to the improve 
 ment of their grounds, and providing sustenance for their families, which 
 the English had. If any dispute should arise between the two, it should 
 be settled by twelve persons, half of whom should be English, and half 
 -Indians. He then paid them for the land, and made them many presents 
 beside, from the merchandize which was spread before them. Having 
 done this, he laid the roll of parchment on the ground, observing again, 
 that the ground should be common to both people. He then added, that 
 he would not do like the inhabitants of Maryland, that is, call them only 
 children or brothers ; for parents were sometimes unkind to their children, 
 and brothers would often differ j neither would he compare the friendship 
 between them to a chain, which the rain might rust, or a tree fall upon 
 and break ; but he should consider them as the same flesh and blood with 
 the Christians, the same as if a man s body was to be divided into two 
 parts. Taking up the parchment, he then presented it to the Sachem 
 who wore the horn in his chaplet, and desired him and the other Sachems 
 to preserve it carefully for three generations, that their children might 
 know what had passed between them, when they were no longer living to 
 repeat it. It is to be regretted that the speeches of the Indians, on this 
 memorable day, have not come down to us. It is only known that they 
 solemnly pledged themselves, according to the manner of their country, 
 
227 
 
 fo live in love with William Perm and his children as long as the sua and 
 moon should endure. Thus ended this famous treaty, of which more has 
 been said in the way of praise, than of any other ever transmitted to pos 
 terity." 
 
 To the commendation which the biographer of the Man of Peace be 
 stows on this honourable transaction, we add the concise eulogium of 
 Voltaire, who pronounced it to be " the only treaty which was ratified 
 xvithout an oath, and the only one which was never broken." 
 
 JVb/e41. tine 1138. 
 
 " Well might he who sigh d 
 A fugitive from his paternal home 
 Feel for the outcast." 
 
 Admiral Penn, being greatly displeased at his son s adoption of reli 
 gious principles of an unpopular class, and which would preclude his pre 
 ferment at court, treated him with severity, and twice indignantly sent 
 him from the shelter of the paternal roof, but was eventually softened by 
 his meekness and consistency of deportment, into reconciliation and the 
 renewal of affection. 
 
 Note 42. Line 1145. 
 
 " Still at the blest name 
 Of the beloved Miquon, starts the tear 
 Of Indian gratitude." 
 
 Heckewelder observes, that " never will the tribe of the Delawares 
 forget their elder brother Miquon, as they affectionately and respectfully 
 call him. The great and good Miquon came to us, they say, bring 
 ing the words of peace and of good will. When they were told the 
 meaning of the name of Penn, they translated it into their own language 
 by Miquon, which means a feather or quill. The Iroquois also called 
 him Onas, which in their idiom signifies the same thing." Heckewel 
 der , 1st volume. 
 
 Note 43. Line 1148. 
 
 " faithful as the race 
 Of Rechab to their dying Sire s command." 
 
 The commendations bestowed on the Rechabites, in the 35th chapter 
 of the prophet Jeremiah, for their strict obedience to the injunctions of a, 
 
228 
 
 departed father, might be in a degree applied to the followers of William 
 Penn, for their inflexible adherence to his precepts with regard to our 
 aborigines. Considered too, generally, by the other settlers, either as 
 foes to be exterminated, or vassals to be oppressed, they received from 
 these mild colonists the charities of brethren. Pennsylvania, rising on 
 the basis of fair and open purchase, unpolluted by injustice, or persecution 
 of the natives, in her institutions acknowledged their allodial right to the 
 soil, and has ever been preserved from those desolating wars, which dis 
 tressed the infancy of many of our territories, and threatened to destroy 
 their existence. 
 
 Note 44. Line 1200. 
 
 " wretched Chief! 
 Unhappy Orellana." 
 
 Orellana was chief of a powerful tribe in the neighbourhood of Buenos 
 Ayres. With ten of his followers he was seized, and treacherously con 
 veyed on board a Spanish ship, which, with a large crew of Spaniards, 
 and a number of English and Portuguese prisoners, set sail from the 
 mouth of the river La Plata, in the month of November 1 745. 
 
 Note 45. Line 1211. 
 
 " Incessant wrongs 
 Harrow thy lofty spirit." 
 
 The Spaniards treated the Indians with great insolence and barbarity. 
 It was common for the meanest officers in the ship to beat them most 
 cruelly, and one of them, a very brutal fellow, ordered Orellano aloft, a 
 service which he knew he was incapable of performing, and under pretence 
 of disobedience beat him with such violence as to leave him bleeding on 
 the deck, stupified with bruises and wounds. Orellana and his followers 
 bore these outrages without complaint, but they were secretly meditating 
 revenge on their oppressors. 
 
 Note 46. Line 1229. 
 
 " With thong distaind." 
 
 Previous to their bold attempt, the Chief, and his companions in 
 wretchedness, had secretly employed their leisure in cutting thongs from 
 raw hides, and in fitting to each extremity of them the double headed shot 
 
of the small quarter-deck guns. These, when swung around their heads, 
 according to the custom of their country, were a dangerous weapon, in 
 the use of which the natives of Buenos Ayres are trained from their in 
 fancy, and consequently very expert. 
 
 Note 47. Line 1236. 
 
 " beneath indos d, 
 
 Hundreds of pale oppressors shuddering cower* dS* 
 The crew consisted of nearly 500 men, and the ship mounted 66 guns. 
 That an Indian Chief, with only ten followers, ignorant of nautical man 
 agement, unacquainted with the use of fire-arms, and unable to procure 
 any weapon, except the knives used for their food, and the thongs already 
 described, should be able to lay 40 Spaniards at their feet, and so to in 
 timidate a formidable crew of more than 40 times their number, as to 
 keep uninterrupted possession of the ship for two hours, and then that 
 they should be attacked merely by shot fired at random through the cabin 
 doors, and other crevices, by disciplined men who feared to approach them, 
 is a fact without parallel in the pages of history. 
 
 20 
 
230 
 
 NOTES 
 
 TO 
 
 Note I.- Line IS. 
 
 ^" Where mourns the forest Chieftain o er his race 
 Banished and lost, of whom not one remains 
 To pour their tears for him." 
 
 The following speech of Logan, a Mingo Chief, was given by the late 
 General John S. Eustace to an intimate friend. He confirmed its au 
 thenticity by the information that it was presented him personally by Lord 
 Dunmore, to whom it was uttered by the unfortunate chief, while he held 
 the station of Governor of Virginia. 
 
 " My cabin, since first I had one of my own, has ever been open to 
 any white man who wanted shelter. My spoils of hunting, since first I 
 began to range these woods, have I ever freely imparted to appease his 
 hunger, to clothe his nakedness. But what have I seen ? What ! but 
 that at my return at night, laden with spoil, my numerous family lie 
 bleeding on the ground, by the hand of those who had found my little hut 
 a certain refuge from the inclement storm, who had eaten my food, who 
 had covered themselves with my skins ! What have I seen ? What ! 
 but that those dear little mouths, for which I had toiled the live-long 
 day, when I returned at eve to fill them, had not one word to thank me 
 for all that toil ! 
 
 What could I resolve upon ? My blood boiled within me ! My 
 heart leaped to my mouth ! Nevertheless, I bid my tomahawk be quiet, 
 
and lie at rest for that war, because I thought the great men of your coun 
 try sent them not to do it. Not long afterward, some of your men in 
 vited our tribe to cross the river, and bring their venison with them. 
 They, unsuspicious of evil design, came as they had been invited. The 
 white men then made them drunk, murdered them, and turned their knives 
 even against the women. 
 
 Was not my own sister among them ? Was she not scalped by the 
 hands of that very man, whom she had taught to escape his enemies, 
 when they were scenting out his track ! What could I resolve upon ? 
 My blood now boiled thrice hotter than before ! Thrice again my heart 
 leaped to my mouth. I bade no longer my tomahawk be quiet, and lie 
 at rest for that war. I no longer thought that the great men of your 
 country sent them not to do it. I sprang from my cabin to avenge their 
 blood, and fully have I done it in this war, by shedding yours from your 
 coldest to your hottest sun. Thus revenged, I am now for peace. To 
 peace have I advised most of my countrymen. Nay ! what is more, I 
 have offered, I still offer myself as a victim, being ready to die if their 
 good require it. Think not that I fear death ! 1 have no relations left 
 to mourn for me. Logan s blood runs in no veins but these. I would 
 nor turn on my heel to escape death. And why should I ? for I have 
 neither wife, nor child, nor sister, to howl for me when I am gone." 
 
 The following version of an " Indian Lament," which recently ap 
 peared in the public prints, unaccompanied with the author s name, ex 
 presses with simplicity and pathos, some of the feelings which characterize 
 the speech of Logan. 
 
 " The black-bird is singing on Michigan s shore, 
 
 As sweetly and gaily as ever before ; 
 
 For he knows to his mate he at pleasure can hie 
 
 And the dear little brood she is teaching to fly. 
 
 The sun looks as ruddy, and rises as bright, 
 
 And reflects o er our mountains as beamy a light 
 
 As it ever reflected, or ever exprest, 
 
 When my skies were the bluest, my visions most blest, 
 
 The fox and the panther, both beasts of the night, 
 
 Retire to their dens at the gleaming of light, 
 
 And they spring with a free and a sorrowless track, . 
 
232 
 
 For they know that their mates are expecting them back 
 
 .Each bird, and each beast, it is blest in degree, 
 
 All nature is cheerful, is happy, but me. 
 
 I will go to my tent, and lie down in despair, 
 
 I will paint me with black, and will sever my hair ; 
 
 I will sit on the shore where the hurricane blows, 
 
 And reveal to the god of the tempest, my woes : 
 
 I will weep for a season; by bitterness fed, 
 
 For my kindred are gone to the hills of the dead ; 
 
 But they fell not by hunger, or lingering decay, 
 
 The steel of the white man hath swept them away, 
 
 The snake-skin that once I so sacredly bore, 
 
 I will toss with disdain to the storm-beaten shore. 
 
 Its spell I no longer obey or invoke, 
 
 Its spirit hath left me, its magic is broke. 
 
 I will raise up my voice to the Source of the Lightj 
 
 I will dream on the wings of the Angels of Night, 
 
 I will speak with the spirits that whisper in leaves, 
 
 And that minister balm to the bosom that grieves, 
 
 f will take a new Manitto, one who shall deign 
 
 To be kind and propitious to sorrow and pain. 
 
 Oli ! then shall I banish these cankering sighs, 
 
 And tears shall no longer gush salt from mine eyes, 
 
 I shall wash from my face every cloud colour d stain, 
 
 Red ! red ! shall alone on my visage remain. 
 
 I will dig up my hatchet, and bend my oak bow, 
 
 By night and by day will I follow the foe ; 
 
 No lake shall repress me, no mountain oppose, 
 
 For blood can alone give my bosom repose. 
 
 They came to my cabin, when heaven was black, 
 
 I heard not their coming, I knew not their track, 
 
 Yet I saw by the glare of their blazing fusees, 
 
 They were people engender d beyond the big seas ; 
 
 My wife and my children ! oh ! spare me the tale* 
 
 But who is there left who is kin to Geehale ? 
 
233 
 
 Note 2. Line 114. 
 
 " Say, may we place 
 
 Thy name upon that canvas, which high Fame 
 Blazons, but yet inscribes not ?" 
 
 The celebrated Scottish novels, which have excited such uncommon 
 degrees, both of admiration and curiosity, seem now to be almost gene 
 rally referred to the pen of Sir Walter Scott. The strong resemblance 
 between the poetical works acknowledged to be his, and the productions 
 " by the Author of Waverly," points the inquirer, by a kind of internal 
 evidence, to the wand of " that great Enchanter of the North." Yet to 
 the public it seems an inexplicable modesty, which should incite an author 
 to withhold so long his name from works so vivid in description as to an 
 nihilate the barriers of distance, and dispel the mists of rime ; so patriotic, 
 that strangers from all nations are led in pilgrimage to Scotland, to do 
 homage to her lakes, and mountains, and ruined castles, and caverns, as 
 if some tutelary divinity resided there ; so brilliant in fancy, that the lover 
 of romance prefers them to all that had before captivated him, yet so 
 faithful to history, that Truth offers them as a guide to the student ; so 
 replete with the knowledge of human nature, that Shakespeare seems to 
 have revived, and reinstituted his cluim to the admiration of remote pos 
 terity. 
 
 J\ a t e 3. Line 225. 
 
 " and her gift 
 Grasped as the bane of Famine." 
 
 The potatoe is styled by Mr. Donaldson, " the bread-root of Great- 
 Britain and Ireland." Writers affirm that it was introduced into the 
 latter island by Sir Walter Raleigh, about the year 1623; and that a 
 vessel laden with it, and wrecked upon the coast of Lancashire, was the 
 means of dispensing its benefits to England, as the ship of Carthage, 
 driven upon the strand of Italy, gave a fleet to Rome. 
 
 But Sir Joseph Banks, in his communication to the Horticultural So 
 ciety of London, states that the potatoe was brought to England from 
 Virginia, by some colonists sent out by Sir Walter Raleigh, who returned 
 as early as 1586. From thence it was soon after conveyed to Ireland, 
 20* 
 
234 
 
 where it was cultivated, and extensively used among the common people, 
 before the inhabitants of England were fully sensible of its value. 
 
 Note 4. Line 226. 
 
 " The fruitful maize." 
 
 America has the honour both of presenting Europe with the Solanum 
 Tuberosum, which has so sensibly diminished the ravages of famine within 
 her bounds, and likewise of furnishing the native soil for a grain remarka 
 ble for its productiveness, and second only to wheat, in the degree of nutri 
 ment it affords to the human frame. According to Marabelli s analysis 
 of the Zea Mays, it " contains a saccharine matter of different degrees 
 of purity, from wliich alcohol, the oxalic and acetous acids, may be ob 
 tained ; a vegetable amylaceous substance, a glutinous substance ; muriat 
 and nitrat of magnesia > carbonats of potasb, lime, and magnesia ; and 
 iron." 
 
 Note 5. Line 264. 
 
 " The firm Diosjyyros." 
 
 The Diospyros Virginiana rises to the height of from fourteen to six 
 teen feet, with a wood extremely hard and brittle. It produces n plumb 
 of about the size of a date, and its bark is useful in intermittent fevers. 
 The bark of its root has been considered also a tonic, favourable to the 
 treatment of dropsies. 
 
 w Vote 6. Line 267. 
 
 " freely urgd 
 
 The cool aperient from the fragrant bark 
 Of Sassafras." 
 
 The bark of the Laurus .Sassafras is a remedy in intermittents. " Its 
 oil, also," says the late Professor Barton, " has been found efficacious when 
 externally applied in cases of wens." Another plant of the same genus, 
 the Laurus Benzoin, commonly called Spice- Wood, enters extensively into 
 the materia medica of the natives. A decoction of its twigs is an agreea 
 ble aperient, and in our revolutionary war, when the patriotism of the peo 
 ple incited them to adopt the productions of their own country in the 
 place of those foreign luxuries to which they had been accustomed, the 
 dried and pulverized berries of the Laurus Benzoin were adopted as a 
 substitute for allspice, as the saccharine juice of the cornstalk had been 
 
235 
 
 found to supply the place of molasses, and an infusion of the leaves of 
 the sage, to supercede the teas of China. 
 
 .Vote l.Lme. 269. 
 
 " Crojqj d the fair bloom with which young Sjmng adorns 
 Tkejlow ring Cornus." 
 
 The flowers of the Cornus Florida, or as it is usually called, Dogwood, 
 appear in the spring, and exhibit a beautiful appearance. Their large and 
 white involucre form a fine contrast to the forest green, and their hue 
 becomes gradually more delicate, as if emulous of the purity of snow. 
 Our natives use an infusion of these flowers in intermittents ; and some 
 of the tribes gave a name to the season of Spring, in allusion to the bloom 
 of this plant. Its blossoms are succeeded by oblong drupes of a rich crim 
 son tint, which are sometimes used as a tonic in the form of a spirituous 
 impregnation, and likewise furnish a favourite food for various species of 
 birds. Its wood, under the name of New-England box, is held in high 
 estimation for its durability, and enters into the construction of many 
 articles both for utility and ornament. But what constitutes its principal 
 value is the discovery that its inner or cortical bark, promises to be equally 
 valuable with the Peruvian. Indeed, it may be considered superiour, as 
 being less nauseous to the taste and the stomach, always to be obtained 
 in abundance, and not liable to the danger of adulteration. The merits 
 of this substance as a medicine, have been clearly and forcibly displayed by 
 Dr. Walker of Virginia, in an inaugural dissertation on the comparative 
 virtues of the Cornus florida, Cornus sericea, and Cinchona officinalis of 
 Linnaeus. After detailing a number of chemical experiments, he re 
 marks : " A summary recapitulation of these experiments shews, that the 
 Cornus florida, sericea, and Peruvian bark, possess the same ingredients ; 
 that is, gum, mucilage, and extracts ; which last contain the tannin and 
 gallic acid, though in different proportions. The Florida has most of 
 the gum mucilage and extracts ; the Sericea the next, which appears to 
 be an intermediate between the Florida and Cinchona ; while the latter 
 possesses most of the resin. Their virtues appear similar, and equal, in 
 their residence. The extract and resin possess all their active powers. 
 The extract appears to possess all their tonic powers. The resin, when 
 perfectly separated from the extract, appeajrs to be purely stimulant ; and 
 
536 
 
 probably the tonic powers of the extract are increased when combined with 
 a portion of the resin, as in the spirituous tincture." Dr. Gregg, of Bristol 
 in Pennsylvania, in a testimony to the merits of the Cornus florida, asserts^ 
 that during a period of 23 years, experience of its virtues had convinced 
 him, " that it was not inferior to the Peruvian bark in curing intermittents ; 
 nor inferior as a corroborant in all cases of debility." 
 
 J\ ote 8. Line 270. 
 
 " Anxiously they sought 
 The Liriodendron." 
 
 The bark of the Liriodendron Tulipifera is considered by some as scarcely 
 inferior to the Cinchona in the cure of fevers. It has also been classed 
 among remedies in cases of gout and rheumatism. This fine tree produces 
 flowers resembling the tulip, beautifully variegated with light green, yellow 
 and orange, and standing solitary at the extremities of the branches. The 
 leaves of this tree have a peculiarly obtuse form, and its young bark is 
 aromatic. 
 
 Note 9 Line 272. 
 
 " sanguine Cornus, with Us snoivy cup 
 And sapphire drupe." 
 
 The Cornus sericea, or American Red-root cornel, is sometimes called 
 from the colour of the epidermial covering of its young shoots, the Red- 
 Willow. It is found in a moist soil, usually by the banks of rivers, and 
 seldom exceeds the height of ten or twelve feet. Its white flowers appear 
 in clusters, and are succeeded by a succulent drupe of a blue colour. The 
 North-Carolinian Indians scrape the inner bark as a substitute for tobacco, 
 or sometimes use it as an adjunct to that plant. It is considered in me 
 dicine equal to the pale Peruvian bark. " When we consider," says Dr. 
 Walker, " the causes of the various forms of disease which are the en 
 demics of our country, we cannot but receive additional inducements to 
 regard the Corni as the most valuable vegetable which Nature, in the 
 prolificness of her bounty, has scattered through the wide forests of North- 
 America. For so long as the mouldering ruins of our swamps, and the 
 uncultivated conditions of our marshes, shall afford materials for the pec 
 cant operations of an autumnal sun, we shall view with peculiar delight 
 the virtues of these two vegetables, which inherit the two essential charac- 
 
237 
 
 ters of the most valuable division of the materia medica, I mean bitterness 
 and astringency 5 to the happy union of which the Corni have a claim as 
 respectable as that which has procured for the Peruvian bark a celebrity 
 as extensive as the bounds of rational medicine. Indeed, so striking is 
 the similitude, so exact the result from comparative trials, that in this at 
 tempt to recommend the Cornus florida and sericea, to the attention of 
 practising physicians, I cannot even review the forms of disease, in the 
 particular states of which the Corni are indicated, without encroaching 
 upon the reputation of the cinchona ; for in truth it may be said, that in 
 whatever form of disease the cinchona has been decidedly serviceable, the 
 Corni will be found equally so. And if we make allowances for the 
 chances and inducements to adulteration in the former, for our relationship 
 to the latter, for its wide extent through the very soil in which are engen 
 dered the seeds of those maladies which their virtues are fitted to remove, 
 we must acknowledge their superiority. Experiments of a diversified 
 nature warrant this conclusion. They are like the cinchona, bitter and 
 astringent in the mouth, tonic and febrifuge in the stomach ; and their 
 chemical analysis affords results perfectly analogous." 
 
 Jfote 10. Line 274. 
 
 " ivoo d thy potent spell 
 Magnolia G-randiftora." 
 
 This magnificent tree throws out its large white fragrant blossoms in 
 July. Its medicinal virtues were familiar to our natives, while they were 
 accustomed proudly to point it out as the glory of the forest. " The 
 bark of its root," says the late Professor Barton, " is used in Florida, in 
 combination with the Snake-Root, as a substitute for the Peruvian bark, 
 in the treatment of intermittent fevers." 
 
 JVote 1L Line 282. 
 
 " the pure blood 
 Of Liquidambar." 
 
 The Liquidambar Styraciflua is found near the banks of rivulets, tall, 
 and elegantly formed, with leaves of a beautiful lustre. From wounds 
 made in the trunk of this tree, a fragrant gum exudes, which operates as 
 a powerful tonic. The Southern natives were in the habit of drying its 
 leaves to mingle with their tobacco for smoking. 
 
238 
 Note 12. Line 283. 
 
 " the pores 
 Of the balsamic Populus." 
 
 u Under the head of general stimulants may be classed the resin of the 
 Populus balsamifera, called Balsam, or Tacamahaca-tree. This is a na 
 tive of North-America and Siberia. The resin is procured from the leaf- 
 buds. This balsam is so very penetrating, that it communicates its pecu 
 liar smell and taste to the flesh of the birds which feed upon its buds."- 
 Collection towards a Maieria Medico of the United States. By Dr. Ben 
 jamin Smith Barton. 
 
 Note 13. Line 288. 
 
 " which the bold Ayrshire bard 
 Wish d in his patriot vengeance to entail 
 On Caledonia s foes. 
 
 " Oh ! thou grim mischief-making chiel 
 Who gar st the notes of Discord squeel, 
 Till daft mankind aft dance a reel 
 
 In gore a shoe-thick ; 
 Gie a the foes of Scotland s weal, 
 A towmond s tooth-ache. - 
 
 Burns Works. 
 
 14. Line 291. 
 
 * the rough genius of that lofty tree 
 Whose yelloiv armour bears in countless studs 
 The horrid thorn." 
 
 The botanical genus Xanthoxylum, received its name on account of 
 the yellow colour of its wood. The species Clava Herculis, which was 
 used by our Indians in the cure of the Tooth- Ache, is sometimes called 
 the great prickly Yellow wood. The trunk often grows to the height of 
 30 or 40 feet, armed with very powerful prickles, which are thick at the 
 base, and angular and sharp at the point. The leaves are pinnate, and a 
 foot in length, the foot stalks armed with strait thorns of a third of an 
 inch. This is frequently denominated the Tooth- Ache Tree, and its bark 
 and seed vessels have the property of a powerful stimulant, when, takerr 
 
239 
 
 internally, and have been found useful in cases of Rheumatism. The 
 medicinal virtues of another species of this plant, the " franaxifolium, 
 were also known to the natives. Lawson remarks, that they extracted 
 from its berries the salivating power of mercury, and made use of decoc 
 tions of the plant, as strong perspiratives. 
 
 Note 15. Line 295. 
 
 " A verdant barrier of fresh-gather d leavers 
 Cull dfrom an acrid plant." 
 
 The Indians of Demarara use the leaves of the Dracontium pertusum 
 "in the treatment of obstinate dropsies. " The body of the patient is cov 
 ered with them, and a universal perspiration, or rather vesication induced, 
 after which the subject often recovers." The leaves of this plant are re 
 markable for numerous elliptical perforations. 
 
 Note 16. Line 298. 
 
 " Where Rhododendron like some drooping maid 
 Timid and beauteous hides her golden locks." 
 
 The Rhododendron Chrysanthemum, or golden flowered Rhododendron, 
 fs a beautiful shrub, and of high reputation in the treatment of Chronic 
 Rheumatism. An infusion of its leaves is both stimulant and narcotic. 
 It has been celebrated in Russia for the cure of the same disease, and is 
 procured in Siberia, Kamschatka, and Bherring s Island. 
 
 j\" te 17. Line 301. 
 
 " Or lur^d her statelier sister s aid to bribe 
 
 Relentless Chronic Rheumatism." 
 
 "The inflorescence of the Rhododendron maximum is almost umbellate ; 
 the blossoms delicately coloured, having the red and white tints of an ap 
 ple blossom, while the green and yellow dots on their upper segment are 
 strikingly conspicuous." Of close affinity to the Rhododendron is the 
 genus Kalmia, of which many species are poisonous. The Kalmia latifo- 
 lia was formerly used by those miserable natives who had determined on 
 suicide. But modern enterprize has successfully enlisted it in the service 
 of medicine, and it is applied, in a pulverized form, internally, in fevers, 
 or topically, for the relief of cutaneous affections. 
 
240 
 
 Note IS. Line 307. 
 
 " How vivid is the eye 
 Of bright Lobelia in her scarlet robe." 
 
 The genus Lobelia is connected by several of its species with the mate- 
 ria medica. Our natives were well acquainted with this fact, particularly 
 with the virtues of the blue Lobelia, and the Lobelia inflata, both of which 
 are lactescent. A decoction of the root of the beautiful Lobelia Cardina- 
 lis, is extensively used by the Cherokees as an anthelmintic. 
 
 Note 19. Line 317. 
 
 " Thus with bold hand compelling the proud force 
 Of deadly Hellebore." 
 
 <( In ancient Egypt, the insane were conducted to those temples, in 
 which were collected whatever seemed calculated to please the eye, and 
 rivet the attention. There, as they wandered from one magnificent ob 
 ject to another, the world and its vexations were forgotten, and amid the 
 deep interest of the scene, the gloomy images which haunted them were 
 banished from their minds. In Greece, on the other hand, the followers 
 of Hippocrates relied exclusively on the specific powers of Hellebore and 
 its adjuvants ; medicines which, at this day, are rarely employed." 
 Report of a committee of the Medical Society of Connecticut, respecting 
 an Asylum for the Insane. 
 
 Note 20. Line 327. 
 
 " Where the May- Apple loads the pendant bough 
 With emerald clusters." 
 
 The Podophyllum peltatum, generally called the May-Apple, is a 
 Common plant throughout the United States. Its fruit is about the size 
 of a common plumb, of green colour, and esculent. The leaves are poi 
 sonous, and the root, which is a very active medicine, resembles that of 
 the black Hellebore. 
 
 Note 21. Line 328. 
 
 " Where th* Asclepias bows 
 Her bright, decumbent petals." 
 
 The Asclepias decumbens, with flowers of a bright orange-colour, is a 
 beautiful and frequent ornament of our fields. It has sometimes been 
 called Pleurisy-Root, from its salutary influence in that disease ; and also 
 
241 
 
 Butterfly-weed, from the attraction which it appears to possess for this 
 species of insect. Its root is used in a pulverized form ; and the high 
 opinion entertained of it, by the native tribes, seems to be confirmed by 
 the testimony of some f our scientific medical practitioners. 
 
 Note 22. Line 331. 
 
 " ivherc, embowering blooms 
 The fair Convolvulus, gleaming with tints 
 Of purple lustre." 
 
 Among the extensive genus Convolvolus, the panduratus is distinguish 
 ed for its medicinal powers. It produces large white flowers, whose bases 
 are deeply tinged with a fine purple. Its root is used either in powder, 
 or decoction ; and from it the southern Indians gain their " Mechameck" 
 or wild Rhubarb. From another species of Convolvolus an extract, 
 resembling Scammomy, is obtained. 
 
 Note 23. Line 332. 
 
 " or the Cassia shoots 
 Its aromatic stem, and slender leaf 
 With saver lind." 
 
 The Cassia Marilandica is referred to in this passage, which was num 
 bered by our aborigines among their cathartics. Several of the other 
 species of this plant hold a far more conspicuous place in the pharmaco 
 peia of modern science than the marilandica. Such, for instance, are the 
 Senna, an Asiatic and African plant ; the Emarginata, which in Jamaica, 
 its native soil, is used as a substitute for the Senna ; the Occidentalis, 
 which in the same island is considered a powerful ingredient in fomenta 
 tions and baths for inflamed limbs ; the Fistula, which forms the basis of 
 a mild and salubrious electuary ; the Italica, a native of North- Africa 
 and the Levant ; and the Alata, found both in the East and West Indies, 
 the juice of whose leaves and buds is a remedy in cutaneous affections. 
 To these, it may not perhaps be improper to add the Cassia Chamae- 
 crista, which is cultivated in parts of Maryland and Virginia, to recover 
 exhausted lands, or enrich those which are barren by nature. 
 
 21 
 
242 
 Note 24. Line 339. 
 
 11 That sinuous root, which blind Credulity 
 Hail d as a shield against the serpent s fang, 
 J5ut Truth enrolls amid her precious spells 
 For wan Disease." 
 
 The Polygala Senega, the celebrated Snake-Root of our natives, though 
 now discredited as an antidote to the bite of the Rattle -Snake, is exhibit 
 ed with success by some of our physicians, in the treatment of several 
 diseases. Pursh mentions two varieties of this species, " one with white 
 flowers in a dense spike, the other with rose coloured flowers in a loose 
 clustre, and with narrower leaves." 
 
 Note 25. Line 342. 
 
 " to its rocky home 
 Lur d by a purple ensign, like the tinge 
 Of the pure Amethyst, detected oft 
 The hidden Fever-root." 
 
 The Friosteum Perfoliatum is found in rich rocky grounds through 
 a great part of the United States. It is however a rare plant, and 
 distinguished by the deep purple tinge of its flowers and drupes. The 
 cortex of the root is a carthartic, and partakes also of the properties of 
 Ipecacuanha. So extensive was the acquaintance of our natives with 
 medicines of the latter description, that the late Dr. Benjamin S. Barton 
 mentions, that " the Six nations make use of at least twelve or fourteen 
 different emetics, all of which, except the sulphate of iron, are vegetables." 
 
 TVWe 26. Line 342. 
 
 " or dext rous pierc d 
 The Ginseng s cavern." 
 
 The Panax Quinquefolium is found in the mountainous woods of 
 North-America, and Chinese Tartary. It is an umbelliferous plant, and 
 its simple white flower is succeeded by a heart-shaped scarlet drupe. It 
 is gently stimulant, and our Indians frequently prepare a tea from its 
 leaves. Adair mentions that some of them are accustomed to use a 
 strong decoction of this plant in their ceremonies upon religious occasions. 
 The Asiatic Ginseng is considered superior to the American. The 
 
243 
 
 Chinese and Tartars entertain so high an opinion of its virtues, as to 
 denominate it "the plant that giveth immortality," 
 
 Note 27. Line 351. 
 
 " The Iris lumining her damp alcove 
 With bright prismatic lustre, to their will 
 Resign d her rainbow lamp." 
 
 The Iris Versicolor and Iris Verna are used by the Southern Indiaus 
 as cathartics. The Florentina also, a native of Italy, has an acrid root, 
 which in its fresh state is a powerful cathartic, and when dry operates as 
 an expectorant. The root of the Palustris, or Palustris Lutea, is both an 
 errhine and sialagogue. When fresh it is a strong cathartic, but after 
 being dried ranks among astringents. It has been recommended as a 
 remedy in the tooth-ache ; and beside its subserviency to the materia- 
 medica, furnishes a deep black dye, and is used in Scotland for making 
 ink. This extensively variegated genus is well known to have received 
 its name of Iris, from the ancient Greeks, on account of the concentric 
 hues of the flower, exhibiting a faint resemblance to the rainbow. 
 
 Note 28. Line 353. 
 
 that tall plant 
 
 Whose Jlow^r and budding leaf together spring." 
 
 The Dirca Palustris is found, as its name indicates, in a wet soil. It 
 rises to the height of five or six feet, and flowers in April, before the 
 expansion of its leaves. Its bark partakes of the properties of canthari- 
 des, and some of our aborignes use as a cathartic, a decoction of the 
 cortex of its root. Its common appellation of Leather- Wood is justi 
 fied by the character of its bark, which is so tough and pliant, as to tje 
 wrought into ropes and baskets for domestic accommodation. 
 
 Note 29. Line 361. 
 
 " The firm Cassine endures the wrecking storm, 
 
 And changeful season, by tradition styVd 
 
 The boon of Heaven." 
 
 The Ilex Vomitoria, or Evergreen Cassine, is a native of West 
 Florida. An infusion of it is the standard medicine of the Southern 
 Indians. It has been supposed that this is the same plant which is found 
 
244 
 
 in Paraguay, the sale of whose leaves is to the Jesuits such an important 
 branch of revenue. It is found also in Carolina, and among some of our 
 tribes was held in such high esteem, that the decoction of its toasted 
 leaves called " black drink," their women were not permitted to taste. 
 Lawson, in recording a tradition of this plant, says " The savages of 
 Carolina have it in veneration above all the plants they are acquainted 
 withal, and tell you the discovery thereof was by an infirm Indian, who 
 laboured under the burden of many rugged distempers, and could not 
 be cured by all their Doctors ; so, one day he fell asleep, and dreamt 
 that if he took a decoction of the tree that grew at his head, he would 
 certainly be cured : upon which he awoke, and saw the Yaupon, 
 or Cassine-tree, which was not there when he fell a sleep. He followed, 
 the direction of his dream, and became perfectly well in a short time. 
 Now I suppose, no man has so little sense as to believe this fable ; yet 
 it lets us see what they intend thereby, and that it has doubtless worked 
 feats enough, to gain it such an esteem among these savages, who are 
 too well versed in vegetables, to be brought to a continual use of any one 
 of them, upon a mere conceit or fancy, without son e apparent benefit 
 they found thereby ; especially when we are sensible, that they drink 
 the juices of plants, to free nature of her burthens, and not out of fop 
 pery and fashion, as other nations are oftentimes found to do," 
 
 In closing these botanical notes, which probably comprize but a small 
 number of the medicinal plants known to our natives, the words of the 
 late Professor Barton, whose attention to this subject marked at once his 
 perseverence and benevolence, are particularly appropriate. "Judging 
 from the discoveries which have been made in the term of three hundred 
 years, it may be safely conjectured, that there are no countries of the 
 globe from which there is reason to expect greater or more valuable 
 accessions to the Materia-Medica, than those of America. In conduct 
 ing our inquiries into the properties of the medicinal vegetables of our 
 country, much useful information may, I am persuaded, be obtained 
 through the medium of our intercourse with the Indians. Some of the 
 rudest tribes of our continent are acquainted with the general medical 
 properties of many of their vegetables. We shall find that the Materia 
 Medica of these people contains but few substances as inert as many of 
 \kose which have a place in our books on this science. What treasures. 
 
245 
 
 of medicine may not be expected from a people, who, although destitute 
 of the lights of science, have discovered the properties of some of the 
 most inestimable medicines with which we are acquainted ? Without 
 mentioning the productions of South- America, let it be recollected, that 
 it is to the rude tribes of the United States that we are indebted for our 
 knowledge of Polygala Senega, Aristolochia Serpentaria, and Spigelia 
 3Iarilandica." 
 
 Note 30. Line 394. 
 
 " its lambent spire 
 
 Played round the temples, and the hoary head 
 Of old Shcnandoah" 
 
 Shenandoah, a venerable chief of the Oncidas, who died at the advanc 
 ed age of 113, thus expressed before his departure, the deep feeling of 
 his loneliness. " I am an aged hemlock. The winds of a hundred 
 years have swept over its branches. It is dead at the top Those who 
 began life with me, have run away from me. Why I am suffered thus 
 to remain God only knows." Not inferior in pathos, was the request 
 of Scanando, an aged chieftain of the same tribe, who had embraced 
 Christianity. " Lay me in death by the side of my minister, and my 
 friend, that I may go up with him at the great resurrection." 
 
 Note 31. Line 399. 
 
 " Thou at ivhose name 
 Our kindling ivarriorsfor the battle arm." 
 
 This speech was addressed to Gen. Washington in 1790, by Corn- 
 planter, a celebrated Seneca chief. 
 
 Note 32. Line 439. 
 
 " Dec]) sighs he breathes 
 To the Great Spirit ivhen (he sun declines, 
 And ere his first ray lig/tls the trembling Morn 
 He renders praise." 
 
 Our natives were habituated to address their prayers to the Great 
 Spirit. This was noticed by many of the first colonists, and Roger 
 Williams, one of the early settlers of New England, and governor of 
 Rhode Island, remarks, " I have heard a poor Indian lamenting the loss 
 
246 
 
 of his child, call up at the break of day, his wife and family, to laments-* 
 tion, and with abundance of tears cry out, Oh God ! Thou hast taken 
 away my child. Thou art angry with me. Oh turn thine anger from me, 
 and spare thou the rest of my children. " " The Indian when he wor 
 ships his Creator," says the Rev. Mr. Heckewelder, " does not forget 
 to pray that he may be endowed with courage to fight, and conquer his 
 enemies, among whom he includes savage beasts. When he has per 
 formed some heroic act, he will not forget to acknowledge it as a mark 
 of divine favour, by making a sacrifice or publickly announcing that his 
 success was entirely owing to the courage given him by the All-Powerful 
 Spirit. This habitual devotion to the Great First Cause, and a strong 
 feeling of gratitude for the favours that he confers, is one of the promi 
 nent traits that characterize the mind of the untutor d Indian. An old 
 Indian told me, about fifty years ago, that when he was young he still 
 followed the custom of his fathers and ancestors, of climbing upon a high 
 mountain to thank the Great Spirit, for his benefits bestowed, and to 
 entreat a continuance of his favour ; and that they were sure that their 
 prayers were heard, and acceptable to the Great Spirit, though he did not 
 himself appear to them." These declarations of their faith in the inefficacy of 
 prayer, may be concluded by a specimen of their devotion, at once pathetic 
 .and sublime. " O Eternal ! have mercy upon me, because I am passing 
 away, O Infinite ! because I am but a speck, O Most Mighty ! be 
 cause I am weak, O Source of Life ! because I draw nigh to the grave, 
 
 O Omniscient ! because I am in darkness, O All Bounteous ! be- 
 
 sjause I am poor, O All Sufficient ! because I am nothing." 
 
 Note 33. Line 475. 
 
 " From a tow ring height 
 They marked the goodly prospect." 
 
 These Chieftains view d the city of New York, from the balcony of 
 Congress-Hall, where a dinner was given them in 1789, when the$r 
 came to treat on national affairs. 
 
247 
 
 Note 34. jLtnc-530. 
 
 " Full many a strain- 
 Of native eloquence, simple and wild 
 Has risen in our dark forests." 
 
 A bold, nervous, and figurative style characterizes the speeches, and 
 even the more common communications of our aborigines. More liber 
 ally than other savage nations, they seem to have been endowed with the 
 gift of Nature s eloquence. Most of their effusions have literally been 
 poured upon the regardless winds ; though the existence of a few have 
 been preserved, principally in miscellaneous collections. The Rev. Mr. 
 Heckewelder, has recorded a speech, which was delivered in Detroit, 
 Dec. 9, 1801, by a Chief of the Delaware tribe, and addressed to the 
 commanding officer of that post, then in the hands of the British. At 
 the beginning of the revolutionary war, the Lenni Lenape having in 
 vain endeavoured to remain neutral, generally joined the Americans ; 
 but this Chief with his party had become allies of the English. It 
 seems that they had repented when it was too late to retract, and were 
 compelled to continue in hostility to the Americans. At their return from 
 an expedition, the following report was made to the British command 
 ant in the Council-house at Detroit, before a large concourse. " Several 
 missionaries were present," says Mr. Heckewelder, "among whom I 
 was. The Chief was seated in front of his Indians, facing the Com 
 mandant. In his left hand he held a scalp, tied to a short stick. After 
 a pause of some minutes he arose, and thus addressed the Governor. 
 
 " Father ! (at the utterance of this word, the orator stopped, and 
 turning round to the audience, with a face full of meaning, and a sar 
 castic look which I should in vain attempt to describe, went on convers 
 ing with them,) I have said Father, although, I do not know why I am 
 to call him so, having never known any other Father than the French, 
 and considering the English only as brothers." It may perhaps be well to 
 mention here, that the Delawares had been steadfast friends of the French, 
 in the war of 1756, but after the peace in 1763, having vainly hoped 
 that their Father, the King of France, would send an army, to retake 
 Canada, they submitted with reluctance to the British government. 
 " But as this name," said the orator, " has been imposed upon us I 
 
248 
 
 shall make use of it, and say (fixing his eyes upon the Commandant,) 
 Father ! sometime ago, you put a war-hatchet into my hand, saying, 
 * Take this weapon, and try it on the heads of my enemies, the Long- 
 knives, and bring me word if it is sharp and good. Father ! at the 
 time when you gave me this weapon I had neither cause nor inclination to 
 go to war with a people who had done me no injury. Yet in obedience 
 to you, who say, that you are my Father, and call me your child, I 
 received the hatchet : well knowing that if I did not obey, you would 
 withhold from me the necessaries of life, without which I could not sub 
 sist ; and where elSe should I procure them, but at the house of a 
 parent. 
 
 " Father ! You perhaps think me a fool, for risking my life at your 
 bidding ; in a cause too, where I have no prospect of gain. It is your 
 cause, and not mine. It is your concern to fight the Long-knives ; you 
 have raised a quarrel among yourselves, and you ought yourselves to 
 fight it out. If the Indians be your children, you should not compel them 
 to expose themselves to danger for your sakes. Father ! Many lives 
 have been already lost on your account. Nations have suffered, and 
 been weakened. Children have lost parents. Wives have lost husbands. 
 Who can know how many more may perish, before your war will be at 
 an end ? Father ! I have said that you may perhaps think me a 
 fool, for thus thoughtlessly rushing on your enemy. Do not believe 
 this, Father ! Think not that I want sense to convince me that although 
 you now pretend to keep up a perpetual enmity to the Long- Knives, you 
 may before long conclude a peace with them. 
 
 " Father ! You say you love your children, the Indians. This you 
 have often told them : indeed it is your interest to say so, that you may 
 have them at your service. But Father ! Who of us can believe that 
 it is possible for you to love a people of different colour from your own, 
 better than those who have a white skin like yourselves ? Father ! At 
 tend to what I am going to say. While you, Father, are setting me on 
 your enemy, much in the same manner as a hunter sets his dog on the 
 game, while I am in the act of rushing on that enemy of yours, with the 
 bloody destructive weapon you gave me, I may perhaps happen to look 
 back, to the place from whence you started me, and what shall I see ? 
 Perhaps I -may see my Father shaking hands with the Long- Knives; 
 
249 
 
 yes, with those very people he at this moment calls his foes. Then I 
 may see him laugh at my folly, for having obeyed his orders ; and yet, 
 I am now risking my life at his command. Father ! Keep what I have 
 said in remembrance. 
 
 " Now Father ! Here is what has been done with the hatchet you 
 gave me (presenting the scalp). I have done with this hatchet what 
 you ordered me to do. I have found it sharp. Nevertheless, I did not 
 lo all that I might have done. No ! I did not. My heart failed within 
 me. I felt compassion for your enemy. Innocence had no part in your 
 quarrels. Therefore I distinguished, I spared. I took some live flesh, 
 which while I was bringing to you, I espied one of your large canoes, 
 and put it there for you. In a few days you will receive this flesh, and 
 find that the skin is the same colour with your own. 
 
 " Father ! I hope you will not destroy what / have spared. You, 
 Father, have the means of preserving whq,t with me would perish for want. 
 The warrior is poor, his cabin is empty : but your house, Father, is 
 ever full." 
 
 " Here," says Mr. Heckewelder, " we see boldness, frankness, dig 
 nity and humanity, happily blended, and eloquently displayed. The 
 component parts of this discourse are put together, much according to 
 the rules of oratory of the schools, and which were certainly unknown to 
 the speaker. The peroration is short, truly pathetic, even sublime : 
 and I wish I could convey to the mind of the reader a small part of 
 the impression which this speech made on me, and on all who heard it 
 delivered." 
 
 The following effusion is of a wholly different character. It was 
 uttered a few years since, by a Maha Chieftain, named Big-Elk, over 
 the grave of the Chief of the Teton tribe, who died at Portage des 
 Sioux, on his return from our seat of government. He was interred 
 with all the honours of war, and this speech was taken literally by the 
 Secretary of the American Commissioners. 
 
 " Do not grieve. Misfortunes will happen to the wisest and best 
 of men. Death will come, and always comes out of season. It is the 
 command of the Great Spirit : all nations and people must obey. What 
 is past, and cannot be prevented, should not be grieved for. Be not 
 discouraged or displeased then, that in visiting your Father you have lost 
 
250 
 
 your Chief. A misfortune of this kind may never again befall you : per 
 haps it would have overtaken you at your own village. Five times have 
 I visited this land, yet never returned without sorrow and pain. Woes 
 do not flourish particularly in our path. They grow every where. What 
 a misfortune that I could not have died this day, instead of the Chief 
 who lies before us. The trifling loss my nation would have sustained by 
 my death, would have been doubly paid for by the honours of my burial. 
 They would have wiped off every thing like regret. Instead of being 
 covered with a cloud of sorrow, my warriors would have felt the sun 
 shine of joy in their hearts. To me it would have been a most glorious 
 occurrence. Hereafter, when I die at home, instead of this noble grave, 
 and grand procession, the rolling music, and thundering cannon, with a 
 banner waving over my head, I shall be wrapped in a robe, and raised on 
 a slender scaffold to the whistling winds, soon to be blown to the earth, 
 my flesh to be devoured by the wolves, and my bones scattered on the 
 plain by wild beasts." 
 
 On the subject of the eloquence of our aborigines, Sansom, 
 in his travels in Canada, remarks, " when Father Charlevoix, a 
 learned Jesuit, first assisted at an Indian council, he could not believe 
 that the Jesuit, who acted as interpreter, was not imposing upon the 
 audience the effusions of his own brilliant imagination. Yet Charlevoix 
 had been accustomed to the Orations of Massillon, and Bourdaloue ; 
 when those eminent orators displayed all the powers of pulpit eloquence, 
 at the funerals of princes, upon the fertile subject of the vanity of life ; 
 but he confesses that he had never heard any thing so interesting, as the 
 extempore discourses of an Indian chief. Even those who have had the 
 enviable privilege of listening in the British house of Commons, to 
 
 The popular harangue, the tart reply, 
 
 The logic, and the wisdom, and the wit, 
 
 that flowed spontaneous from Burke, and Sheridan, and Fox, and Pitt, 
 during the most splendid period of British oratory, have freely ac 
 knowledged that they never heard any thing more impressive than an 
 Indian speech, accompanied as it usually is, with all the graces of un 
 constrained delivery." 
 
251 
 
 JVo. 35. Line 551. 
 
 " Ooluita." 
 
 This incident is borrowed from Schoolcraft s Journal. The heroine 
 was a native of the Sioux tribe, who inhabit the banks of the Mississippi 
 and Missouri. They are warlike and powerful, and feared by the neigh 
 bouring nations. This tribe admits of several subdivisions, among which 
 the clan of Minowa Kantong has obtained pre-eminence. One of 
 its principal bands resides near the head of Lake Pepin, and to this be 
 longed the father of Oolaita. The Minowa Kantongs are by far the 
 most civilized of the Sioux tribe. They are skilfull in the construction 
 of canoes, and in the use of fire-arms, with which they are well provided. 
 They are the only ones among their nation, who erect log-huts, and 
 attend to the cultivation of vegetables. The Sioux are considered as 
 the most warlike and independent tribe of Indians within the territory 
 of the United States. With them, every passion is held in subservience 
 to the enthusiasm of the warrior, and to be " invincible in arms," is the 
 summit of ambition. Such is the excellence of their leaders, and the 
 dauntless spirit of the people, that they have hitherto bid defiance to 
 every hostile attack. From their pronunciation, habits and personal 
 appearance, the opinion has been entertained that they derive their origin 
 from the Tartars. The following description of Lake Pepin, where a 
 part of this tribe have their territory, is from the pen of Schoolcraft. 
 " This beautiful sheet of water is an expansion of the Mississippi river, 
 six miles below the Sioux village of Talangamane, and one hundred 
 below the Falls of St. Anthony. It is twenty-four miles in length, with 
 a width of from two to four miles, and is indented with several bays, and 
 prominent points, which serve to enhance the beauty of the prospect. 
 On the east shore is a lofty range of lime-stone bluffs, which are much 
 broken and crumbled, sometimes run into pyramidal peaks, and often 
 present a character of the utmost sublimity. On the west is a high level 
 prairie, covered with the most luxuriant growth of grass, yet nearly des 
 titute of forest trees. This lake is beautifully circumscribed by a broad 
 beach of clean washed gravel, which often extends from the foot of the 
 surrounding highlands, three or four hundred yards into the lake, forming 
 gravelly points, upon which there is a delightful walk, and scalloping out 
 
252 
 
 tb margin of the lake, with the most pleasing irregularity. In walking 
 along these, the eye is attracted by the various colours of mineral gems, 
 which are promiscuously scattered among the water-worn debris of gra 
 nitic, and other rocks ; and the agate, carnelian, and chalcedony are met 
 with at every step. The size of these gems is often as large as the egg 
 of the partridge, and their transparency and beauty of color is only excel 
 led by the choicest oriental specimens." 
 
 Note 36. Line 843. 
 
 " the peaceful roofs 
 Of sad Muskingum." 
 
 " A whole town of Christian Indians, consisting of 90 men, women 
 and children, were butchered in cold blood at Muskingum, in 1783, 
 notwithstanding they had been our tried friends, throughout the whole 
 of the revolutionary war." Star in the West, 
 
 Note 37. Line 845. 
 
 " the deserted bounds 
 Of the slain Creeks." 
 
 " In the autumn of 1813, a detachment of soldiers, under Gen. 
 Coffee, laid waste the Tallushatches towns where the Creeks had assem 
 bled. Women and children were among the wounded and slain, and not 
 one warrior escaped to bear tidings to the remainder of the tribe." Traits 
 of Indian Character. Analectic Magazine. 
 
 Note S3. Line 846. 
 
 " from the troubled grave 
 Of Malaanthee." 
 
 In the summer of 1788, a party of Kentucky militia set out on an 
 expedition against the Pickewatown. They were discovered by some 
 young hunters, pursuing the chase, who returned and gave information 
 to their aged chieftain, Malaanthee. He refused to believe that any 
 injury was intended them by the whites, on account of a treaty which had 
 been executed the preceding spring. He therefore unsuspiciously advanc 
 ed to meet them, holding in one hand this treaty signed by the American 
 Commissioners, and in the other the flag of the United States, which he 
 fc&d received at the same time. " I, and my people," said he, " are 
 
friends of the thirteen fires. Faithfully have we observed the treaty 
 made with their Chiefs ; and on this flag, which they gave me as a mark 
 of friendship, I place my own and my people s protection." A fatal 
 blow was their answer to the hoary Chief. The white flag, stained with 
 blood, was torn from his lifeless hand, and displayed as a trophy on the 
 Court-house at Lexington, M . 
 
 This unprincipled deed is strongly contrasted with an instance of 
 magnanimity, and inviolable friendship, recorded in Mr. Jefferson s Notes 
 on Virginia. Col. Byrd was once sent to transact some business with 
 the Cherokee nation ; and it happened that some of our disorderly people 
 had just murdered one or two of theirs. It was proposed in the council 
 of the Cherokees, that Col. Byrd should be put to death, in revenge for 
 the loss of their countrymen. Among them, was a chief named 
 Silouee, who on some former occasion had contracted a friendly ac 
 quaintance with Col. Byrd. Every night he came to him in his tent, 
 telling him not to be afraid, for they should not take away his life. 
 After many days deliberation, they however determined, contrary to 
 Silouee s expectation, that Col. Byrd should be put to death, and some 
 warriors despatched as executioners. Silouee attended them, and when 
 they entered the tent, threw himself between them and their victim^ 
 exclaiming " this man is my friend ! Before you get at him, you must 
 kill me." On this, the warriors returned, and the Council respected 
 fhe principle so much, as to recede from their decision. 
 
 Note 39. Line 849. 
 
 " Lo ! Behold the men 
 
 Who knew, and published the pure word of peace, 
 Yet kept it not." 
 
 " I was astonished," says the Rev. Mr. Heckewelder, " to hear in 
 April 1787, a great Delaware Chief, after recapitulating some of the 
 wrongs sustained through the whites, conclude in these words. * I 
 admit that there are good white men .- but they bear no proportion 
 to the bad. The bad must be strongest ; for the bad rule. They 
 do what they please. They enslave those who are not of their 
 colour, though created by the same Great Spirit. They would 
 make slaves of us, if they could, but as they have not fully done 
 
254 
 
 it, they kill us. There is no faith in their words. They are not like 
 us Indians, enemies only in war : in peace friends. They will say to 
 an Indian, My friend ! My brother ! They will take him by the hand, 
 and at the same moment destroy him. And so you, (addressing him 
 self to the Christian Indians,) so you will also be treated by them before 
 long. Remember this day have I warned you to beware of such friends 
 as these. I know the Long-Knives : they are not to be trusted. 
 Eleven months after this speech was delivered by the prophetic Chief, 
 96 of the same Christian Indians, about 60 of them women and children, 
 were murdered in the very place where these words had been spoken, 
 by the men he had alluded to, and in the manner he had described." 
 Loskiel. Part 3, Chap. 10. 
 
 Note 40.- Line 868. 
 
 " The Chehaw villages." 
 
 The destruction of the Chehaw villages, was in the spring of 1818, 
 by Gen. Jackson, when for the space of three days the country was 
 ravaged, the houses burned, the provisions destroyed, the men slaughter 
 ed, and the women made captives. 
 
255 
 
 NOTES 
 
 TO 
 
 Note 1. Line 33. 
 
 " The mighty Mohawk." 
 
 Ever since the settlement of this country by the Europeans, the 
 Mohawks have been noted for their fierceness, and the terror they in- 
 spiied among the surrounding tribes. Their original territory was in 
 the vicinity of Hudson s river, though they have now removed to the 
 countries under the British jurisdiction. At the period of Capt. Smith s 
 history, which was published in London in 1627, they are mentioned as 
 " a great nation, and very populous." Oookin s " Historical Collec 
 tions of the Indians of New-England," bearing date in 1692, contains 
 the following testimony to the warlike and imposing character of this 
 tribe. " These Mohawks, or Maquas, are given to rapine and spoil, and 
 hostility with the neighbouring Indians. In truth, they were, in time 
 of war, so great a terror to our Indians, even though ours were far 
 more in number than they, that the appearance of four or five Mohawks 
 in the woods would frighten them from their habitations and corn-fields^ 
 and reduce many of them to get together into forts, by which means 
 they were brought to straits and poverty. For they were driven from 
 their planting-fields through fear, and from their fishing and hunting 
 places ; yea, they durst not go into the woods to seek roots and nuts to 
 sustain life. To sum up all concerning them, you may see that they 
 are a stout and cruel people, much addicted to bloodshed and barbarity ; 
 and very prone to vex and spoil the peaceable Indians." 
 
Note 2. Line 33. 
 
 " and fierce Delaivare." 
 
 " The Delawares, or Leni Lcnape Indians," says the Rev. Mr. 
 Heekewelder, " according to the traditions handed down to them by their 
 ancestors, resided many hundred years ago, in a very distant country, in 
 the western part of the American continent. They afterwards emigrated, 
 and settled on the four great rivers, Delaware, Hudson, Susquehannah, 
 and Potomac, making the Delaware, to which they gave the name of 
 Lenapewihittuck (the river or stream of the Lenape) the centre of their 
 possessions. The word Hittuck, in the language of the Delawares, means 
 a "rapid stream." " Sipo, or Sepu, is their word for river." The 
 Delawares, who were formerly very fierce and powerful, have greatly 
 decreased in numbers, but still retain their ancient courage, and are 
 considered an intelligent and respectable tribe. 
 
 Note 3. Line 5D. 
 
 " Thine eye beheld 
 Its dawn, meek Eliot" 
 
 This excellent man, who is usually styled the Apostle of the Indians, 
 felt his benevolence excited by their wretchedness, at a time when they 
 were generally considered objects of contempt and of degradation. 
 He was the minister of Roxbury, in Massachusetts, and added, in the 
 year 1646, to his parochial duties, the office of spiritual teacher of the 
 natives. In this he persevered both with firmness and delight, not 
 withstanding the features of enthusiasm, which his design assumed to a 
 generation, not familiar, like our own, with the energies of missionary 
 exertion. " In this work," says Gookin, a cotemporary writer, " did 
 this good man industriously travel for many years, without external 
 encouragement from man, or the receiving of any salary or reward. 
 The truth is, that Mr. Eliot engaged in this laborious work of preaching 
 to the Indians, on a very pure and sincere account." In anwer to those 
 who questioned him with expressions of surprize respecting his under 
 taking, he gives as reasons, his desire of making God known to those 
 miserable heathen, his ardent affection for them and his wish to conform 
 to the promise which New-England had made the king in return foi 
 
257 
 
 her Charter, " to communicate the gospel to the natives, as one princi 
 pal end of determining to plant in their country." It is remarked by 
 another historian, that after more intimate acquaintance with the original 
 customs and traditions of the Indians, Eliot traced such frequent resem 
 blances to the ancient Israelites, that he could not but indulge the snp- 
 position of their affinity, and he adds, " the fatigue of his labour went 
 on the more cheerfully, or at least the more hopefully, because of sucii 
 probabilities." 
 
 Note 4. Line 82. 
 
 " With sacred pen " 
 
 Mather, in his Magnalia, affirms, that Eliot completed the whole 
 translation of the Bible into the language of the Indians, entirely with one 
 pen, which he consecrated to that holy office. After his acquisition of 
 this language, which was attended with many difficulties, he composed 
 a grammar of it, and translated such a number of treatises on Practical 
 Piety, that a small library was soon formed for those who had never 
 before seen their barbarous articulations arrested or arranged. Through 
 his instrumentality some of the most promising native youths were 
 educated at Cambridge, where they became regular graduates. For 
 their assistance in their preparatory studies, he translated some scientific 
 essays, and works explaining more abstruse points in Theology. But 
 what he had most at heart was an entire Indian bible. The New Tes 
 tament, which was printed in 1661, with a dedication to King Charles 
 II, was the first edition of the Scriptures ever published in America. A 
 Society for aiding in the propagation of the Gospel among our aborig 
 ines, was about this period incorporated in London, and some letters are 
 preserved from the venerable Eliot, to the Hon. Robert Boyle, its 
 Governor, who had furnished some assistance in the expense of pub 
 lishing the Old Testament. In one of them the faithful and meek 
 Apostle, thus expresses his gratitude and his Christian perseverance. 
 " Your charity hath greatly revived and refreshed us. The great work 
 that I now travail about is the printing of the Old Testament, that they 
 may have the whole Bible. They are importunately desirous of it. I 
 desire to see it done before I die, and I am already so deep in years, 
 *hat I cannot expect to live long. Besides, we have but one man, the 
 
258 
 
 Indian printer, who is able to compare the sheets, and correct the press, 
 with understanding. As soon as I received the sum of near 40 for 
 the bible work, I presently set it on foot, and am now in Leviticus. I 
 have added some part of my salary, to keep up the work, and many more 
 things I might mention, as reasons of my urgency in this matter." 
 
 Note 5. Line 87. 
 
 " The deep-drawn sigh 
 Of thy departing soul." 
 
 The venerable Eliot attained a great age, and his exertions and ex 
 ample were to the last consistent with ardent piety, and disinterested 
 benevolence. Like Polycarp, he might have said, " eighty and six years 
 have I served my Lord Jesus Christ." As his soul gently departed, his 
 expiring lips uttered the request, " Lord ! revive and prosper thy gospel 
 among the Indians, and grant it to live when I am dead." How would 
 his pious spirit have rejoiced, could it have looked through the mists of 
 time, and traced the accomplishment of this fervent desire. Much had 
 been performed by him, for the spiritual instruction of the natives, the 
 correction of their vices ; the establishment of family-prayer, and the 
 foundation of regular societies for religious worship. The first Church 
 ever gathered among the wanderers of the forest, was at Natick, in 
 1651. Connected with this, was a humble attempt, at civil govern 
 ment ; for they were permitted to hold jurisdiction over slight offences. 
 Mr. Eliot assisted them in appointing rulers over hundreds, fifties and 
 fens, according to the model in the 18th of Exodus, which he explained 
 to his approving auditors. He gave them also the following form, 
 which may be considered as the first imitation of the ancient Theocracy 
 of Israel. 
 
 " We are the sons of Adam, and with our forefathers have a long 
 iime been lost in our sins. But now the mercy of God beginneth to 
 find us out. Therefore, the grace of Christ helping us, we do give 
 ourselves and our children unto God to be his people. He shall rule 
 all our affairs. The Lord is our Judge, the Lord is our Lawgiver, the 
 Lord is our King, he will save us. The wisdom which God hath taught 
 us in his book shall guide us. Oh ! Jehovah, teach us wisdom. Send 
 thy epirit into our hearts. Take us to be thy people, and let us take 
 thee to be our God." 
 
259 
 
 Mote 6. -Line 92. 
 
 " The Mai/hews rose." 
 
 The name of Mayhew, is still embalmed with gratitude, by the 
 remnant of aboriginal population on the island of Martha s Vineyard, 
 The ministry of these benefactors of wretchedness commenced about 
 the year 1648, in the person of the Rev. Thomas Mayhew, son to the 
 governor of that island. Both father and son had acquired the language 
 of the Indians, and upon the death of the latter in the ninth year of his 
 missionary labours, the venerable parent assumed the falling mantle of 
 the younger prophet, and until the advanced age of 93, continued his 
 spiritual instructions, and benevolent deeds to a despised race. Such 
 peculiar success attended their exertions, that 150O natives were num 
 bered as the fruits of their holy toil. Others of their descendants in 
 herited the same disinterested and pious spirit, and condescended to seek 
 in the wilderness those lost sheep who had never heard the call of the 
 Shepherd, or the promise of a fold. 
 
 Note 7. Line 98. 
 
 " Dying Mitark." 
 
 One of the chief Sachems, or princes of Martha s Vineyard, by the 
 name of Mitdrk, who had embraced Christianity, died in the beginning of 
 the year 168 3. The day before his decease, Mr. John Mayhew, who 
 attended him, inquired concerning his hope, and the dying chief answer 
 ed, " I have hope in God, that when my soul departeth out of this body, 
 he will send his angels to conduct it to himself, and to dwell with Jesus 
 Christ." Then with great earnestness he exclaimed, " Where that 
 everlasting glory is ! As for my reasons ; I have had many wrongs of 
 enemies, of whom I have sought no revenge, neither retained evil in 
 thought, word, or deed. Therefore expect I the same from God. But 
 I proceed no further, for He is merciful. It is now seven nights since 
 I was taken sick, and not yet have I asked of God to live longer in this 
 world. Here are some benefits to be enjoyed, also many troubles to be 
 endured : yet with respect to the hope I have in God, am I willing to 
 die. Here am I in pain, there I shall be freed from all pain, and enjoy 
 the rest that never endeth." Pointing to his three daughters, he said 
 
260 
 
 "and yovfmy daughters, if you lose your father, mourn not for him. Rats- 
 er mourn for yourselves, and for your sins. Mourn not for me, though 
 you are unwilling to spare me, and I might be helpful to you by living 
 longer in this world, yet to die, is far better for me." Magnolia. Christi 
 Americani. Vol. ii. 
 
 Note 8. Line 108. 
 
 " the fount of penitence 
 O er rugged features pour d a tearful tide." 
 
 It has been urged among the objections against sending the gospel 
 to our aborigines, that their prejudices and hardness of heart must 
 interpose insuperable obstacles to its progress. Yet the penitence and 
 humility with which they received the religious instructions of their 
 earlier teachers were remakable. It was observed of the venerable 
 Eliot, that his heart was affected, " to see what floods of tears fell from 
 the eyes of those degenerate savages, yea, from the worst of them all, 
 at the first addresses which he made to them." A cotemporary divine, 
 who had witnessed their mode of worship, states, " we saw and heard them 
 perform their duties with such grave and sober countenances, such 
 comely reverence in their gesture, and whole carriage, and with such 
 plenty of tears trickling down the cheeks of many of them, as did argue 
 that they felt the holy fear of God : and it much affected our hearts." 
 
 Note 9. Line 118. 
 
 " His majestic form 
 
 Veil d in dim distance, drooping seems to pass 
 *Neatk the devouring wave." 
 
 The Rev. Thomas Mayhew, Jun. the first of that benevolent family 
 who commenced preaching to the natives, undertook a voyage to Eng 
 land, in 1647, on business connected with his mission. But no intelli 
 gence of the vessel in which he embarked, was ever received. This 
 affliction was deeply deplored by his family, by the church, and by the 
 grateful Indians whose affections he had so strongly engaged, that for 
 many years his name was seldom mentioned even by the younger and 
 more thoughtless of them without tears. May we not apply to this 
 excellent and lamented man, those beautiful lines in Milton s Lycidas ? 
 
261 
 
 " Thus sinks the day-star in the Ocean-bed { 
 
 But then anon repairs his drooping head, 
 
 And tricks his beams, and with new-spangled ore 
 
 Flames in the forehead of the eastern sky. 
 
 Thus Lycidas sank low, but mounted high 
 
 Through the dear might of Him who walk d the waves/ 
 
 Note 10.Lz/ie 129. 
 
 " Brainerd woke in youth 
 
 The labours of this distinguished missionary to the aborigines of our 
 country, the hardships, the self-devotion, the depths of humility, the 
 high aspirations of piety, which his short period of twenty nine years 
 comprised, are familiar to every mind versed in the history of man s 
 benevolence to man. His creed was founded on what the venerable 
 Dr. Milner styles " the primitive tastes of Christianity, to believe, to 
 suffer, and to love." Among the trophies of his victory, by which 
 having past the gates of death, he "yet speaketh," may we not number 
 the event, that from the perusal of his life, sprang that emulation which 
 " baptized by prayer," dictated the choice, and sublimated the career of 
 Henry Martyn ? The closing sentences of Sargent, his animated biog 
 rapher, will express the merits of that distinguished man, whose memory 
 is embalmed in the churches. " Martyn followed the steps of Zeigen- 
 balg in the old world, and of Brainerd in the new ; and while he walks 
 with them in white, for he is worthy, he speaks, by his example, to us 
 who are still in our warfare and pilgrimage on earth. For surely as 
 long as England shall be celebrated for that pure and apostolical Church, 
 of which he was so great an ornament ; as long as India shall prize 
 that which is more precious to her than all her gems and gold, the name 
 of the subject of this memoir, as a translator of the Scriptures and of 
 the Liturgy, will not wholly be forgotten : and while some shall delight 
 to gaze upon the splendid sepulchre of Xavier, and others choose rather 
 to ponder over the granite stone which covers all that is mortal of 
 Swartz, there will not be wanting those who will think of the humble 
 and unfrequented grave of Henry Martyn, and be led to imitate those 
 works of mercy which have followed him into the world of light and love/- 
 
262 
 Note II. Line 149. 
 
 " Heckewelder toil d, 
 Girt with his Master s patience." 
 
 The work entitled " An account of the history, manners and customs 
 of the Indian Nations, who once inhabited Pennsylvania, and the neigh 
 bouring states," by the Rev. John Heckewelder of Bethlehem, suffi 
 ciently proves the compassionate interest which had prompted the exer 
 tions, and directed the pen of the Author. " In what I have written," 
 he affirms, " concerning the character, customs, manners and usages of 
 this people, I cannot have been deceived, since it is the result of personal- 
 knowledge, what I have myself seen, heard, and witnessed while residing 
 among and near them, for more than thirty years." Of the Lenni 
 Lcnapi, or Delaware tribe, he has collected a great number of interesting 
 facts. These were the natives who first received the European settlers 
 upon the island of New York, welcoming their arrival with an alacrity 
 and reverence, which the gift of prescience would have changed into 
 aversion and terror. Mr. Heckewelder, after describing the extent of 
 territory and degree of prosperity which they then enjoyed, says, " On 
 a sudden they are checked in their career, by a phenomenon they had 
 till then never beheld ; immense canoes arriving at their shores, filled 
 xvith people of a different colour, language, dress and manners, from 
 themselves. In their astonishment they call out to one another, Behold ! 
 the Gods are come to visit us ! They at first considered these wonderful 
 beings, as messengers of peace, sent from the abode of the Great Spirit, 
 and therefore employed their time in preparing and making sacrifices to 
 that Great Being, who had so highly honoured them. Lost in amaze- 
 ment, fond of the enjoyment of this novel spectacle, and anxious to know 
 the result, they were unmindful of those matters which hitherto had taken 
 up their minds, and formed the object of their pursuits ; they thought 
 of nothing else but the wonders which now struck their eyes, and were 
 Constantly employed in endeavouring to divine this great mystery. Such 
 is the manner in which they relate that event : the strong impression of 
 which is not yet obliterated from their minds." 
 
263 
 
 Note 12. Line 184. 
 
 Whither goest thou ? 
 
 Son of the Ocean ft 
 
 : I HI 
 
 " The Indians at first imagined that the white men riginally sprang 
 from the sea, and invaded their country, because they had none of their 
 own. They sometimes called them in their songs, the " white foam 
 of the Ocean," and this name is still applied contemptuously by the 
 aborigines of the North- West." Prophet of Alleghan,y. 
 
 Note 1 3. Line 244. 
 
 " On that beloved city, which their step 
 
 Dar d not abroach." 
 
 " The remnant of the Jewish nation having again rebelled, Adrian 
 completed the destruction of what Titus had left standing in ancient 
 Jerusalem. On the ruins of the city of David, he erected another town, 
 to which he gave the name of ^Elia Capitolinus ; he forbade the Jews 
 to enter it upon pain of death, and caused the figure of a hog, in 
 sculpture, to be placed upon the gate leading to Bethlehem. St. 
 Gregory Nazianzen nevertheless relates, that the Jews were permitted 
 to enter JE\\a once a year to give vent to their sorrows ; and St. Jerome 
 adds that they were forced to purchase at an exorbitant price the right 
 of shedding tears over the ashes of their country. "Chateaubriand s 
 Travels, in Greece, Palestine, Egyjit and Barbary. 
 
 Note 14. Line 270. 
 
 " Church nor council-house 
 Might hold the multitude." 
 
 The assembly who were to hear this interesting question decided, 
 met in a beautiful vale, about eight miles to the westward of the Seneca 
 Lake, on the 12th of June 1802. The tribe of Senecas, or Senekas, 
 originally belonged to that powerful confederation of Mohawks, Oneidas, 
 Onondagas, and Cayugas, which existed at the first arrival of the 
 Europeans. They now inhabit the territory on the banks of the Gennesee 
 river ; and the eastern shores of Lake Erie : and among their peculiar 
 
264 
 
 customs which point to ancient Israel, is that of annually sacrificing u 
 white dog, as if in rude imitation of the paschal lamb. The celebrated 
 orator, Red Jacket, belongs to them ; but his name in their language 
 is far more appropriate than this vulgar appellation, being Tsckuycaathaw, 
 or " the Man who keeps you awake." 
 
265 
 
 NOTES 
 
 TO 
 
 Note I. Line 23. 
 
 " Beneath their chapel s dedicated dome 
 Oneida s natives pay their vows to God." 
 
 The church here alluded to, is one of the Episcopal order, established 
 in the Oneida tribe, where Mr. Eleazar Williams officiates as Catechist 
 and Lay Reader. Interesting accounts of its prosperity, particularly of the 
 devotion of the worshippers in their public service, the regularity of their 
 responses, and the melody of their singing, are related by those who 
 have visited them. This church belongs to the Diocess of the Right 
 Rev. Bishop Hobart, and the following notice of its consecration is 
 copied from the Christian Journal of October 1819. 
 
 " On Tuesday last, the Chapel erected for the Oneida Indians, at 
 Oneida Castle, was consecrated by the Bishop, receiving the name of 
 St. Peter s church. Fifty-six Indians who had previously been prepared 
 for that purpose by their Instructer, Mr. E. Williams, received confir 
 mation, aud at the visit of Bishop Hobart last year, ninety-four were 
 confirmed. Too much praise cannot be bestowed upon the exertions 
 and pious zeal of Mr. Williams, in his successful efforts to bring into 
 the Christian Church these infidel brethren ; for when he arrived among 
 them, two or three years ago, more than half of the Onejdas were of that 
 
266 
 
 character." Missionaries have been repeatedly employed among this 
 tribe, and the late Rev. Mr. Kirkland, (father of the President of 
 Harvard University, Cambridge,) who long discharged the duties of that 
 vocation with zeal and ability, thus speaks of their religious belief, 
 and that of the other nations with whom they where confederated. 
 " The region of pure spirits, the Five Nations call Eskanane. Accord 
 ing to their tradition there is a gloomy fathomless gulph, near the 
 borders of the delightful mansions of Eskanane, over which all good and 
 brave spirits pass with safety, under the conduct of a faithful and skilfull 
 guide appointed for the purpose, but when those of other characters 
 approach the gulph, the conductor who possesses a most penetrating 
 eye, instantly discovers their spiritual features, and denies them his aid, 
 assigning his reasons. They will however attempt to cross upon a small 
 pole, which before they reach the middle trembles and shakes, till pre 
 sently down they fall, with horrid shrieks. In this dreary gulph they 
 suppose resides a great dog or dragon, perpetually restless and spiteful. 
 Sometimes the guilty inhabitants of these miserable regions approach 
 so near the happy fields of Eskanane, as to hear the songs and dances 
 of their former companions j but this only serves to increase their tor 
 ments, as they can discern no light, or discover any passage by which 
 they can gain access to them." 
 
 The Tuscaroras have affinity with the Oneidas, and resemble them 
 in most of their traditions and customs. Missionaries have been oc 
 casionally sent to them, and the exercises of a Sabbath, as conducted in 
 the church under the instruction of the Rev. Mr. Crane, is thus de 
 scribed by a literary and liberal minded English gentleman, who has 
 travelled extensively in the United States. " On my visit to the cata 
 ract of Niagara, in 1821, I passed with great pleasure a Sunday, with 
 the Tuscaroras in the vicinity. With their devotion during the services 
 I was particularly impressed. Some of them who approached the church 
 during a heavy rain, observing it to be the time of prayer, remained 
 without, unsheltered, till prayers were finished. Their minister by the 
 aid of an interpreter, gave them a sermon of such impressive simplicity, 
 that the whole of it remained upon my memory. But when the tunes 
 of Old Hundred and Plymouth burst forth in strains of perfect melody, 
 I could scarcely restrain my feelings. Afterwards, a grey-headed chief, 
 
267 
 
 leaning upon his staff, addressed our Father in Heaven. In his suppli-- 
 cation he asked that the stranger who had come from over the great 
 waters, might be preserved on his return to his home, and be blessed 
 for feeling an interest in poor Indians. The deportment of these sons 
 of the forest, and the influence of the whole scene, was so forcibly 
 affecting, that I found it impossible to refrain from tears." 
 
 .Vote 2. Line 80. 
 
 " Wttdomft hand 
 
 ffcweth out pillars, when sfie rears the house 
 Whose arch is for the shies." 
 
 " Wisdom hath builded her house, she hath hewn out her seven 
 pillars. "Proverbs ix, 1. This inspired metaphor of the royal teacher, 
 may among other sources of instruction, permit an application to our 
 present subject. If in the most sublime truths of Christianity, may be 
 traced an adaptation to our grosser frame, a recognition at once of our 
 infirmities, and our needs ; does it not become us in our erection of a 
 spiritual temple among the heathen, to imitate the " wisdom that is from 
 above," and to suffer its foundation to rest upon the earth, since its 
 .service is for the benefit of those who are " from the earth, earthy?" 
 Perhaps the failure of most of our early attempts to convert the aborig 
 ines may be traced to inattention in connecting the advantages of civili 
 zation with the blessings of Christianity. Their success in many instan 
 ces was conspicuous, but the adjunct was wanting, which could impress 
 on the character of a roving people, the feature of permanence. Indi 
 viduals were made solemn, purified, and, we trust, gathered to the family 
 of the redeemed ; but the multitude required from Christianity, a visible 
 pledge that she was divine. Like the Jews, they " sought after a sign, 
 yet not even the sign of the prophet Jonas" was given them, who after 
 immersion in the deep for a time, was raised to liberty and light. The 
 arts of civilized society, would have convinced their reasoning powers 
 that the tree which bore goo 1 fruits was good ; and to the wretched 
 numbers who have perished for want of sustenance would have been as 
 "life from the dead." 
 
 " We are hungry and naked," say the Chippeways in their speech to 
 Governor Cass, " we are thirsty and needy. We hope you wijl relieve 
 
268 
 
 us. The President of the United States is like a lofty pine upon the 
 mountain s top. You are also a great man. The Americans are 
 a great people. Can it be possible they will allow us to suffer?" 
 Schoolcraft, who traces his personal observations among our natives, 
 with the pen of a master, remarks, that " the savage mind, habituated 
 to sloth, is not easily roused into a state of moral activity, nor at 
 once capable of embracing and understanding the sublime truths and 
 doctrines of the evangelical law. It is necessary that letters, arts, 
 and religion, should go hand in handv" The younger President 
 Edwards, whose knowledge of the customs and language of our aborigi 
 nes, particularly of the Stockbridge tribe, is well known to have been 
 extensive, points out as the only method of securing their loyalty to 
 government, " the prosecution of the design of thoroughly instructing 
 them in the true religion, and of educating their children to useful 
 knowledge." The process of turning them from hunting and fishing 
 to husbandry, must of necessity be slow ; yet it seems that it would not 
 be impossible to lead from the beauty and comforts of harvest, up to 
 the Giver of Good, those souls which had been accustomed even through 
 darkness and ignorance, to " see God in clouds, or hear him in the 
 \vi:id." Yet those roving minds require to be arrested by the certainty 
 of present good, before they will renounce vicious gratifications for the 
 hope of futurity. A religion which recommends itself by teaching them 
 to guard against the famine, the storm, and the " pestilence walking in 
 darkness," furnishes their conviction with a strong proof, that it is able 
 to provide a shelter in the day of wrath, and a refuge when all earthly 
 habitations are dissolved. To vanquish their doubts of the excellency 
 of doctrines, it is necessary to ameliorate their condition, and to remove 
 their ignorance. To the force of the first argument, the child, and the 
 Chieftain of hoary hairs, are alike accessible : the last, must appeal 
 chiefly to the rising generation whose intellect, unshackled by long 
 habit, is docile to the voice of instruction. Wisely, therefore, have our 
 recent missionaries applied themselves to the education of children : 
 and wisely are they permitting their system to embrace agriculture, with 
 the domestic and mechanic arts. Thus, they open a new era in the 
 jiistory of that divine compassion, which during the lapse of two centu 
 ries, has often awakened to toil for our aborigines, yet as often wept 
 
269 
 
 *hat her toil has been in vain. Thus arc they taking the most effectual 
 method to arrest the fugitives in their rapid progress to the grave, by 
 causing not only the dark forest to resound with the praises of Jehovah, 
 but also the "wilderness and the solitary place to blossom as the rose." 
 
 Note 3. Line 106. 
 
 " they with grateful joy were haiCd 
 By the sad stranger s moaning on the miti*" 
 
 If any claim to religious instruction can be founded on strong solici 
 tude to receive it, the aborigines upon our borders have instituted that 
 claim, and confirmed it by ardent gratitude for that measure of the gift 
 which has been imparted. In this respect they exhibit a strong contrast 
 to most of the Asiatic heathen, to whom the gospel has been sent. The 
 reluctance of the Hindoos to listen to, or submit their children to a 
 system which would sap the foundation of preconceived idolatry, is feel 
 ingly described by Henry Marty n. In the course of only a few pages, 
 the following passages occur, and others of the same nature might easily 
 be selected. " Wherever I walked, the women fled at the sight of me. 
 The children ran away in great terror. I left books with some of the 
 people, and went away, amid the sneers and laughter of the common 
 soldiers. A party of boatmen I talked with, and begged them to take 
 a tract, but could not prevail. A Mussulman who had received one of 
 the Hindostanee tracts, and found what it was, was greatly alarmed and 
 returned it. I am much discouraged at the rebuffs and suspicions I 
 meet with. As I was entering a boat, I happened to touch, with my 
 stick, a brass pot of one of the Hindoos, in which rice was boiling. So 
 defiled are we in their sight, that the pollution past from my hand, 
 through the stick and brass to the food. He rose and threw it all 
 away. Walked in the evening to a poor village, where I only produced 
 terror." 
 
 If the zeal which " counts all losses light," would reproach itself as 
 weak to be moved by these afflictions, or selfish to be influenced by them 
 in the choice of a theatre of action ; yet minds of a more calculating class, 
 who feel that life is short ; and those who love the luxury of doing good, 
 would be inclined to choose that station, where probabilities are greatest of 
 performing the most in a limited time, Still the missionary in his most 
 
270 
 
 eligible situation has enough of trial, enough of privation, to remind 
 him that he is a herald of that Prince, whose "kingdom is not of this 
 world." The tribes upon our borders to whom religious teachers hare 
 been sent, so far from testifying like the oriental heathen, strong reluc 
 tance or aversion, have entrusted their children to them with tears of 
 gratitude, and in many instances aided in the expenses incidental to their 
 education. The Cherokees who have probably shared the most largely 
 in these benefits, have made the greatest progress in civilization. The 
 culture of the earth has become an object of increased attention. Many of 
 their females understand the use of the distaff and loom, and the agency 
 of the needle in promoting domestic comfort. An intelligent traveller in 
 that region, about four years since, writes " the Cherokee women almost 
 universally dress after the manner of the whites, in gowns manufactured 
 by themselves, from cotton which they have raised on their own little 
 plantations. Rapidly are they coming into habits of industry. In the 
 Choctaw nation, 2000 spinning wheels, and several hundred looms have 
 been made and distributed." 
 
 The Cherokee council has recently promised a set of tools to those 
 young men who would become acquainted with some mechanic art ; and 
 lias also divided the territory of the tribe into districts, and appointed 
 judges in each for the regular distribution of justice. The children, who 
 have become members of the Schools, make respectable, and often rapid 
 progress in the branches assigned them. The circumstance of imparting 
 to them our language, instead of being forced to acquire theirs, furnishes 
 our missionaries with an important facility which is denied to their east 
 ern brethren. Time and mental labour are thus rescued for other pur 
 poses ; and the pupils after obtaining the English tongue, which they 
 have hitherto done with great ease, enjoy in our books the advantage of 
 an unbounded store of knowledge. The delay occasioned by acquiring 
 the Hindostanee or Sanscrit sufficiently w^ll to converse with and preach 
 to the natives, assumes the aspect of an obstacle, which severity of ap 
 plication alone can conquer. A Missionary, eminently distinguished 
 by his translations in the Asiatic dialects, remarks " the idiom, and just 
 collocation of the words in Hindostanee are very difficult. Every 
 few miles, the language changes, so that a book in the dialect of one 
 district would be unintelligible in another." 
 
271 
 
 Among the facilities afforded for the instruction of our western 
 heathen, and which seem almost to amount to a preparation for truth, 
 may be numbered the circumstance, that their minds are not fettered by 
 an idolatry like that of Juggernaut, at once abject, imposing, and bar 
 barous. Their belief in the Great Spirit, and the " land of souls," is 
 not so adverse to the " simplicity which is in Christ," as the mysteries 
 of Vishnoo, and of Brumma. Roger Williams in his work, entitled, 
 " A Key to the Language of the Indians of New-England," which 
 bears date in 1643, and is now very scarce, has the following passage. 
 " He who questions whether God made the world, the Indians will 
 teach him. I must acknowledge that I have in my conversations with 
 them, received many confirmations of those two great truths, that God is, 
 and that he is a rewarder of them who diligently seek him. If they 
 receive any good in hunting, fishing, or harvest, they acknowledge God 
 in it. Yea, if they meet with but an ordinary accident, such as a fall, 
 &c. they say God was angry, and permitted it." 
 
 This habitual sense of the agency of a Divine Being in all the affairs 
 of life, might serve both as an example and reproof to some inhabitants 
 of a Christian land ; and seems to prove that a path is already broken up, 
 for the footseps of knowledge and piety. The latter assertion is however 
 applied principally to those upon our frontiers, who suffer from poverty 
 and degradation. The natives, whose territory is farther to the west, 
 maintain comparative independence ; and finding their own mode of life 
 sufficient for their wants, are less disposed to receive a better. But 
 " our brother within our gates," hath not rejected our benevolence, hath 
 not put from him the word of life." Do we "adjudge him unworthy 
 of eternal life, that we turn from him to other Gentiles ?" that we 
 prefer invading the jurisdiction of foreign governments, to discharging 
 the debts which our own has incurred ? For the Indian hath a claim 
 upon our justice, which sophistry cannot cancel. It is vain to say that 
 their land was obtained by purchase. What a purchase ! When whole 
 townships were obtained for a single intoxicating draught ; and prov 
 inces, like the vineyard of Naboth, wrested without payment, save the 
 life of the owner. In many of the original purchases of land from the 
 Indians, payment was rendered with the sword, silencing the lip that 
 complained of injustice, and stilling the bosom that throbbed at tyranny, 
 
272 
 
 Have we ever \vfested from the Hindoo his rice-field ? -from the Citl - 
 galese his aromatic groves ? from the South-Sea Islander his liberty ? 
 Have we introduced among them new and mortal diseases, destructive 
 weapons before unknown, and vices more fatal to the soul, than the 
 pestilence to the body ? Heaven forbid that a Christian, who holdeth 
 in his hand the light of life, should be unwilling to cast its beam upon 
 any land lying in darkness, or even indifferent whether any nation under 
 heaven should continue to " sit under the shadow of death." But 
 ought he not first to relume those tapers which his ancestors aided in 
 extinguishing ? first to guide those wanderers whom he has contributed 
 to plunge deeper in the labyrinth of woe ? Ask the man of integrity, if 
 ke ought not first to discharge his debts, ere he indulge in the luxury of 
 benevolence ? But what shall we render to those whom we have bereft 
 of territory, of liberty, and of happiness ? What can we offer, but the 
 hope of Heaven ! Life to them is as a sealed book, and Death an abyss 
 of horror ; but we can teach them to read from one the lesson of resig 
 nation, and to behold the darkness of the other kindle with the glories 
 of the resurrection. 
 
 It is a remarkable fact that every nation which has established per 
 manent colonies in America, has assumed as a first principle, the conver 
 sion of the natives ; and that every one has been either forgetful of the 
 promise, or unfortunate in its execution* Spain bore upon her blood 
 stained banners, the peaceful semblance of the cross. But so ill did her 
 charitable pretensions comport with her execrable barbarities, that the 
 miserable natives, after a full explanation of the doctrines of her church, 
 were accustomed to say, that they " had rather endure the sufferings of 
 hell, than to enter the abodes of heaven, if they must dwell there with 
 Spaniards." A Prince, whom they offered a mansion in a better world, 
 after having deprived him of every comfort in this, inquired, " Is this 
 heaven of which you speak, the place where you Spaniards go after 
 death ?" On their replying in the affirmative, he answered in the 
 strong language of nature, " Then let me go to another place." 
 
 France, with the ostensible design of promulgating Christianity, 
 commenced her settlements in the New- World. Yet Champlain, who 
 came thither under her auspices, in the year 1603, seemed to think that 
 this design might best be promoted by a war among the savages ! A- 
 
273 
 
 oordingly he provoked sanguinary conflicts, between the aborigines and 
 Hurons, and^ the powerful confederacy of Iroquois. Fields were watered 
 with blood, yet the " peaceable fruits of righteousness sprang not." 
 The next year, Henry IV of France, gave the Sieur de Monts, grants 
 of land in Acadia, now Nova Scotia, and he bound himself to propagate 
 the doctrines of the cross among the aborigines. Charlevoix asserts 
 that his monarch would not again have received Canada, when it was 
 restored to him by Charles First of England, (who after taking it found 
 its expenses too greatly overbalancing its profits,) had it not been for the 
 design of converting the natives. But how did the conduct of Fiance 
 comport with her professions ? A few Romish priests and Jesuits, 
 disseminated the peculiar tenets of tbeir belief, but did they ameliorate 
 the condition of the savage, by mingling his simple adoration of the 
 Great Spirit, with the worship of gods innumerable ? or illuminate his 
 mental darkness by teaching him to bow down to " images made like 
 unto corruptible things ?" Yet France has not been tinged like Spain 
 with the deepest dies of cruelty. Candour requires the acknowledgment 
 that some of her holy men have evinced a strong interest in the religious 
 instruction of the natives, mingled with that national urbanity which has 
 powerfully gained the affections of many of the sons of the forest. " On 
 the walls of the Chapel of the Ursulines at Quebec," says Sansom, " is 
 still delineated an elegant picture, representing the Genius of France, 
 just landed upon the shores of America, from an European vessel which 
 is seen moored to the rocks. She is pointing to the standard of the 
 cross, at the mast-head, and with the other hand offering to a female 
 savage the benefits of religious instruction, which she kneels to receive." 
 The Charter given by England to her first colonists, also recognized 
 as an essential object, the religious instruction of the aborigines. But 
 how did their conduct in many instances fulfil this sacred injunction ? 
 The natives of the forest were seen fading before their footsteps, like 
 the morning mist over the mountain, as if their presence, so far from 
 imparting spiritual life, destroyed even the principle of animal existence. 
 The example of many of the traders, who by frequent intercourse with 
 them gave the strongest representation of what they supposed Christian 
 ity was, almost universally contradicted a religion which forbids fraud, 
 #nd tyranny. Yet even then, such was their expectation of seeing some 
 
274 
 
 practical influence flowing from it, that the first settlers, who witnessed 
 the emotions of their surprize, were accustomed to hear them say, with 
 a solemn countenance, " You know God ! will you tell falsehoods, 
 Englishman?" When the doctrines of a pure religion, have been 
 forcibly explained to them, how often has their effect been destroyed by 
 examples of vice and barbarity. How miserably has a system of holi- 
 uess been undermined by the sins of those who professed to establish it. 
 A zealous Missionary, once reasoning with the natives, on the impor 
 tance of moral virtues, when derived from rectified principles, was inter 
 rupted by a Chief, who rising, said with great earnestness, " Hold your 
 tongue ! Go home, and teach your own people not to lie, get drunk, 
 and cheat poor Indians : then come and preach to us, and we will believe 
 you." "They have always been ready to retort upon us," says Gen. 
 Lincoln, in his observations on the Indians, " where are the good effects 
 of your religion ? We, of the same tribe, have no contentions among 
 ourselves respecting property : and no man envies the enjoyment and 
 happiness of his neighbour ! But they have very different opinions 
 respecting us. These impressions ought to be removed : has it ever 
 been attempted?" 
 
 Several Seneca Chiefs, who in the year 1818, were much noticed in 
 England, where they excited great curiosity, express themselves in the 
 following manner, in an address to some benevolent people of the Society 
 of Friends at Leeds. 
 
 " The great injuries we have received from white men, the wicked 
 ness we saw constantly practised among them, greatly strengthened our 
 minds against their ways, and their religion ; thinking it impossible that 
 any good could come out of a people, where so much wickedness dwelt. 
 In this bondage have we and our fathers been held for more than two 
 hundred years, retiring and wasting away before the white men, our 
 means of subsistence diminishing, corrupting ourselves with their sins, 
 hardening ourselves in our afflictions, destruction before us, and no 
 arm to deliver." 
 
 While we urge that the just claims which our aborigines have on us 
 for religious instruction should no longer be slighted, can it be thought 
 of inferior importance, that those Christians who have intercourse with 
 should strive to exemplify the moral virtues which their faith 
 
275 
 
 enjoins that those who preach the law, should neither make veid the 
 law, nor through the errors of their brethren " find the gospel made of 
 none effect." 
 
 Note 4. Line 123. 
 
 " Thus Renatus spake." 
 
 This passage is a close paraphrase of the speech of Charles Renatus 
 Hicks, to the messenger who first proposed to him on the part of our 
 government, to extend the benefits of instruction to the children of his 
 tribe. This interesting individual received the name of Renatus at his 
 baptism, by the Rev. Mr. Gambould, the Moravian missionary ; and 
 has continued by his sincerity, zeal, and Christian example, to fulfil the 
 high hopes which the dawn of his piety excited in the breast of his spiritual 
 father. His influence in his nation, which is considerable, is faithfully 
 demoted to the aid of the missionaries and the promotion of their sacred 
 cause. The following extract from a letter of this excellent chief to a 
 friend in New-England, dated 1818, furnishes a pleasing specimen of his 
 sentiments, and his style. " Go on, and inflame the light to greater 
 brightness in the souls of your believers in the religion of Jesus Christ, 
 that they may suffer the red man to come with them to the fountain-head, 
 which burst forth in healing streams upon Mount Calvary, giving all 
 the human family to be as one in Christ. This shall warm the cold- 
 hearted white man to encourage the red man to come and taste the heav 
 enly manna. Then shall the red man acknowledge that his elder brother 
 was kind to him in distress, and gave him clothes when naked, and drink 
 when thirsty. Then shall both enjoy His love, who is the first and the 
 last, and liveth forevermore ; and never more quarrel about our covering 
 the Mother-Earth, though the Red Man once lorded over her desertedt 
 waste." 
 
 JVo. 5. Line 145. 
 
 " Methinks the bounds 
 
 Of distance fleet ! and bright, prevailing rays 
 Reveal the scene." 
 
 Brainerd, in the Cherokee nation, was the first institution among our 
 aborigines, upon a plan combining Christianity with civilization. There, 
 
276 
 
 the experiment was first made, whether Indians would resign their children 
 to foreign teachers, and whether those children were capable of the appli 
 cation, the proficiency, the subordination of those, whose infancy had 
 passed amid higher privileges. Success has crowned an attempt which 
 commenced amid the fears of many, and the humble hopes of a few. 
 The children of the forest have cheerfully adopted a system of methodical 
 study and labour, more strict than we find established among ourselves. 
 Their progress has been almost universally rapid, and their minds are 
 considered by their teachers of an excellent order. That learning which 
 the child of indulgence views with aversion, and for the partial acqui 
 sition of which he fancies himself entitled to reward, they consider as 
 recreations. Food and raiment, which he receives without thanks, they 
 esteem as favours, exciting gratitude. Among them also, are some 
 happy students of the " wisdom that cometh from above ;" and the 
 important influence acquired by the Missionaries over the minds of the 
 parents, by attention to the welfare of their children, is a channel 
 through which much good may enter. 
 
 The experiment first tried among the Cherokees has been repeated 
 among the Choctaws and Great Osages, so that already, at a variety of 
 stations, several hundred native children are listening to the voice of 
 Instruction. 
 
 Whether the Indians ever can be civilized, still remains a question 
 with many cautious minds. If they ever can, now is the time : when 
 famine and misery have forced them to seek a refuge, and when that 
 refuge is provided for them in the arms of humanity. But reason 
 assures us, that the process must be slow. National character is not 
 modified, much less renovated, in a moment. By the time that the 
 whole of the present generation has past away, the point may be decided. 
 Yet if in civilized countries, where education exerts its sway with fewer 
 obstacles, the children even of virtuous parents sometimes prove faithless 
 both to the example of the one, and the impression of the other ; much 
 ought to be expected of a roving and untutored race, to counteract the 
 purposes of instruction, and repress the enthusiasm of hope. 
 
277 
 
 Note 6. -Line 1 57. 
 
 "Almost tki/f rvcnt prayr 
 jBursts on my ear, blest Kingsbury." 
 
 At a time when missions to the East almost monopolized the exer 
 tions of Christians, the Rev. Cyrus Kingsbury was revolving amid the 
 solitude of the student s cell, the design of devoting himself to our 
 western aborigines. With firmness worthy of his cause, he penetrated 
 the lonely forest, and established the first permanent institution in which 
 the children of our natives had ever been taught to blend the arts of 
 civilized life with the hopes of an immortal existence. When the first 
 obstacles to an institution have been surmounted, he has left it to form 
 others in the wilderness ; choosing not to " rest in his labours, but to 
 bear the burden, and heat of the day." Only a few years have elapsed, 
 since his solitary tent was pitched among the wilds of Chickamaugah ; 
 now, many Christians have entered the same path, to water the seed 
 in the desert, and to forget their toil amid the joy of harvest. This 
 self-devoted band may be considered as adopting the plan which filled 
 the discriminating mind of Eliot, the first Indian apostle, who in his 
 early intercourse with them, declared, that in order to succeed in their 
 conversion to Christianity, it was necessary that " they should be taken 
 off from their wild way of living, and brought into some kind of civil 
 .society." 
 
 Note 7. Line 188. 
 
 " Catharine, hail ! 
 Our sister in the faith." 
 
 This particular notice of an individual, when rr.any of the native 
 pupils have distinguished themselves by proficiency in studv and cheer 
 ful acquiescence in the rules of their new institutions, may be explained 
 by the circumstance that she was the first among that number, who 
 embraced Christianity. A short time after she became a member of the 
 school at Brainerd, which then bore the original name of Chickamaugah, 
 Catharine Brown, at that time about the age of 16 years, was remarked 
 for her rapid progress in the various branches of education, and for the 
 influence of pure religion upon her heart and deportment. A variety of 
 
 24 
 
278 
 
 ornaments with which she was furnished by her parents, had been wor 
 with some haughtiness, as valuable aids to a comely appearance. These 
 were of her own accord laid aside, and offered to assist in defraying the 
 expenses of the mission. On the minds of those of her companions who 
 seemed less sensible than herself of the advantages extended to them, 
 she strove to impress the magnitude of their privileges. Soon after the 
 establishment of the school, one of the instructers writes, " Catharine 
 takes great pains to make those little Cherokees, who are inclined to be 
 inconsiderate, understand the privilege they enjoy in atte ding school 
 here. Often has she been heard interceding for them with her Father 
 in Heaven. Every night she reads the Scriptures, and prays with those 
 little girls, who lodge in the same apartment : and every day she gives 
 increasing evidence that the love of God is shed abroad in her heart." 
 Since that period she has become more extensively known throughout the 
 Christian community, as an interesting example of the power of that holy 
 principle which at once renovates, fortifies, and exalts our nature. She 
 has become a faithful Instructress in a school recently established among 
 her tribe : and her brother, a promising young man, who has also em 
 braced our religion, is receiving in the excellent institution at Cornwall 
 (Connecticut) an education to fit him for a missionary to his people. 
 " Oh how great would be the blessing," he exclaims in the glowing, 
 unrestrained language of nature, " could we see many young heathen 
 become heralds of salvation to their dear benighted countrymen, see 
 them hail the little flock of Christ at the Cherokee nation, and overthrow 
 the dominion of darkness there, and make the banks of Chickamaugah 
 tremble, and fly on the wings of heavenly love over the lofty Lookout, 
 and visit the slumbering inhabitants there ; and reach the plains of 
 Creek-Path, and turn that path towards heaven, that it may be travelled 
 by Cherokees also ; and thus go on until Spring-Place, Taloney, 
 Tsatuga, and all the people, acknowledge God as their Saviour." 
 
 The Lookout is a majestic mountain, whose base is washed by the 
 Tennessee River, and the places alluded to, in this sentence, are villages 
 of the Cherokee territory, some of them within the vicinity of the former 
 abode of the writer. 
 
279 
 
 Note Q.Line 198. 
 
 " And thou too, Warrior brace ! 
 Undaunted Charles " 
 
 Among the first converts to Christianity, from our American wilds, 
 by the recent exertions of benevolence, was an intrepid Cherokee war 
 rior, by the name of Charles Reece. In our last war with Great Britain 
 he distinguished himself at the battle of the Horse-shoe, by swimming 
 across the river in the face, and under the fire of the enemy, and bringing 
 off the boats in triumph. As a testimony of valour, he received from 
 government a musket, richly ornamented with silver. This bold war 
 rior was so much affected by the religious instructions of the Rev. Mr. 
 Cornelius, when a traveller in that country, that he sank at his feet, as 
 if utterly deprived of strength, and desiring to become as a little child, 
 that he might learn in humility, the words of his Saviour. The day 
 after, he came several miles to find the missionaries at Brainerd, in 
 quiring of them, with the deepest solemnitv, " Can you tell me what 
 God wants me to do ?" and in conformity to their instructions, resigned 
 his imperfect theory, for the knowledge and practice of a consistent 
 religion. 
 
 Note 9. Line 212. 
 
 " His ardent tone, as through the wilds he bent 
 
 His solitary way " 
 
 The Rev. Mr. Cornelius, now of Salem (Massachusetts,) was ap 
 pointed in 1817, to travel through the United States, in order to excite 
 the benevolence of the people in favour of the mission to our aborigines, 
 tyhich had been patronized by government ; and likewise to visit several 
 of the tribes upon our borders, and discover with what dispositions they 
 would meet the designs of mercy. These important offices were dis 
 charged with such a happy combination of zeal and ability, that many 
 hearts ascribe their first deep sympathy for this miserable race, to his 
 eloquent description of the woes " of our brother, perishing within ou* 
 gates." 
 
280 
 
 Note 10. Line 321. 
 
 " Thou mild Moravian Sister." 
 
 Mrs. Gambold, the wife of the Rev. John Gambold, aided in 
 bearing the burdens, and performing the duties of a missionary, with 
 distinguished zeal and ability, for a period of sixteen years. Her 
 exertions were devoted to the Cherokees, and her residence was at 
 Spring-place in Tennessee. She was admired in early life, for her 
 amiable and refined manners, and for the possession of those accomplish 
 ments which are highly valued in polished society. For fourteen years 
 she was an Instructress in the Female Seminary at Bethlehem (Pennsyl- 
 nia), beloved by those who were under her care, and happy in an em 
 ployment which at once gave her independence, esteem, and the con 
 sciousness of an useful life. " Yet there," she says, " my equally 
 favourite object was to throw my humble mite into the depressed scale of 
 our poor aborigines. Strongly did I feel for their situation ; and whoever 
 spoke or acted in their favour was my friend. My heart bled at the 
 view of their accumulated wrongs." Moved by this tender and ardent 
 zeal, she decided to renounce the comforts of her situation, the allure 
 ments of refined society, and to endure perils in the wilderness. With 
 unabating firmness, with the most tender sentiments of piety, she dis 
 charged the duties, and sustained the privations of her station. To the 
 wandering natives, she exemplified the Apostle s precept, that " God is 
 love : and that he who dwelleth in love, dwelleth in God." With the most 
 endearing condescension, she poured instruction into the minds of their 
 ignorant children, waiting patiently for the harvest. " Our institution 
 for the young," she writes in 1819, "is at present small. But how 
 good is our Saviour ! Some of those dearly beloved pupils hath he 
 already brought into the ark of safety." The promising Cherokee 
 youth, who received the name of Elias Boudinot, and is now pursuing 
 his studies in the institution at Cornwall (Connecticut,) acquired the 
 rudiments of learning and piety from this excellent woman. She 
 exerted herself in forming a Sunday school for the blacks, who, she 
 observes, used " formerly to profane our most holy festivals, the Lord s 
 day, Christmas, and Easter; nor were our repeated remonstrances of any 
 avail." A native woman, by the name of Margaret- Ann Crutchfield, 
 
who with her husband was interested in teaching the African school, is 
 affectionately styled by Mrs. Gambold, " the first fruits of the nation, 
 which it had pleased our dear Lord to give us." She was a niece pf 
 Charles Renatus Hicks, and her piety, like his, proved to be both sincere 
 and lasting. Her ardent feelings were often strongly excited by the 
 oppressions, and spiritual darkness of her people. Having been taught 
 to read and write by her benefactress, she thus expresses herself in a 
 letter to a friend in New-England, bearing date in the winter of 1819. 
 " I feel great concern for my poor nation. The white people drive 
 some of them from their houses, and from settlements upon their own 
 lands. One old man, who was driven out in this manner, moved to 
 some distance, where he lives in a camp. Then this old man begged 
 the white people, who took possession of his place, for a boat, that he 
 and his family might go to the Arkansas. But they answered him 
 that he might make a canoe, and get to that country, as he could. If 
 such things are allowed, we know not what will become of us. I think 
 our good Father, the President, is ignorant of the proceedings of the 
 white people here. I believe that he is our friend, and wishes to do 
 right for the Indians. There are a good many of us, who wish to re 
 main in our own country. We have just begun to see good days, by 
 having the gospel preached to us. My dear brother and sister Gam- 
 bold, have been labouring in this country for thirteen years. It is very 
 painful to them, after labouring so long, to see the Indians driven away. 
 My uncle Charles R. Hicks has gone on to the President at Washing- 
 tan, to plead our cause. I trust our Saviour will support him, and 
 make all end well. If he should not succeed, I know that we are gone. 
 But one thing we know, that our dear Saviour will never forsake us." 
 The death of this interesting convert took place in October 1820, and 
 was attended with peaceful, even triumphant hopes. Mrs. Gambold, 
 in her account of the scene, adds a little circumstance expressive of the 
 reverence which the natives entertain for true piety, even before they 
 have been led to renounce their own debasing superstition. The even 
 ing after the funeral, a large meteor was observed, emitting vivid streams 
 of light, and attended with an explosion like thunder. " This," said one 
 ef them, with their characteristic gravity, " this is a warning to us. It 
 signifieth that a good woman hath died," 
 
At the institution of the recent missions among the Cherokees, the 
 faithful Moravian labourers, forgetting that narrow division of sect which 
 too often causes coldness and contention in the family of Christ, received 
 the new occupants at Brainerd, with the most ardent affection. Mrs. 
 Gambold mentions in a letter, " How great was our joy, after many 
 years hoping and wishing with tearful eyes, for more labourers in the 
 field of our dear Lord, which is truly large, and requires many sowers, 
 when our beloved brother Kingsbury entered our little abode with a 
 cheerful countenance, ready, through divine assistance, to do his utmost 
 in cultivating the long neglected soil, and in preparing a harvest for that 
 dear Redeemer, who shed his precious blood not only for us, but for the 
 Indians also." 
 
 In a public notice of her death, her friendship, and even maternal 
 kindness to the Missionaries of another persuasion is gratefully recorded. 
 " By the variety of her useful acquirements, she commanded the respect 
 of all who knew her ; and by the amiableness of her deportment, and 
 the disinterestedness of her services, conciliated the affections of an 
 untutored people. But she looked above human approbation, her heart 
 was fixed upon her Saviour, and beyond a doubt, her services in his 
 cause will not pass unrewarded." To these remarks upon this excellent 
 woman, may be added an extract from the London Missionary Register, 
 conferring on the religious denomination to which she belonged, a tribute 
 of praise, honourable both to the merit that deserves, and the liberality 
 that bestows it. " It is but justice to the United Brethren to say, that 
 they make the best missionaries in the world : for to a persevering, tem 
 perate zeal that never tires, they join habits of personal industry which 
 enables them to subsist at a very small expense to their employers. The 
 expense of their establishment at Gnadenthal, amounting to 600 per 
 annum, is defrayed by the Missionaries themselves, with a deficiency of 
 only 1 9. They have completely won the affections of the Hottentots, 
 have prevailed on them to shake off their habits of sloth, and are rapidly 
 bringing them to a state of civilization." 
 
283 
 Note 11. lane 3oG. 
 
 " Soft glows the turf 
 O t?r the young Oscige Orphan,-" 
 
 For a particular account of this interesting child, see a work recently 
 published by the Rev. E. Cornelius, of Salem (Massachusetts), entitled 
 " The little Osage Captive." 
 
 Note 12. Line 494. 
 
 " They urge their lingering kindred, Haste with us, 
 
 And we unll do thee good. " 
 
 Numbers x, 29. This will be recognized as the invitation of the 
 Jewish Lawgiver to his brother, when Israel was about to remove to the 
 promised land. Its spirit seems still to be infused into the minds of 
 those who are engaged in the formation of benevolent societies ; and 
 among the young, the sympathy arising from it, is almost irresistible. 
 The age in which we live, has been called the age of charity ; and it 
 is peculiarly distinguished by the charities of childhood. Innumerable 
 associations for the most disinterested purposes, of bands just entering 
 into life, adorn our country. Apart from the aid which has thus been 
 rendered to poverty, and to the heathen, the effect is important upon 
 the unformed minds of the actors. For when industry or self-denial 
 are made the basis of their charity, energies are awakened, and habits 
 cherished, which look beyond the happiness of this life, and affect the 
 destinies of Eternity. The great designs of the present century, in the 
 accomplishment of which, both Infancy and Age unite, are thus beauti 
 fully illustrated by the poet Montgomery. 
 
 * " In the Bible Society, all names and distinctions of sects are blended, 
 till they are lost, like the prismatic colours, in a ray of pure and perfect 
 light. In the Missionary work, though divided, they are not discordant; 
 but like the same colours displayed and harmonized in the rainbow, they 
 form an arch of glory, ascending on the one hand from earth to heaven, 
 and on the other, dascending from heaven to earth, a bow of promise, a 
 covenant of peace, a sign that the storm is passing away, and the Sun 
 of Righteousness, with healing on his wings, breaking forth over all 
 nations." 
 
284 
 Note 13. Une 57(X 
 
 " thou whose heart 
 Gathering the groans of our rejected tribes 
 Compassionate devis d their good." 
 
 His excellency James Monroe, the present Chief Magistrate of the 
 United States, has distinguished himself by a kind regard to the interests 
 of our aborigines. He has awakened their gratitude and confidence ; 
 and they are accustomed to speak of him as a Father, who is solicitous 
 for their welfare, and to view him as a Philanthropist, listening to " the 
 sighing of the prisioner." The recent missions are indebted much to 
 his patronage, for the degree of success which has given strength to 
 their infancy. In his tour through the western states in 1819, he visit 
 ed Brainerd, gave particular directions for the erection of a building, 
 intended for the instruction of female pupils, and expressed the most 
 friendly interest in the whole establishment. This benevolent regard to 
 the miserable, which will long render his name respected and beloved, 
 seems now to be pervading the higher ranks of society, promising to 
 overcome that stern indifference which has too long been entertained 
 towards the sons of the forest, by a nation which covered their glory. 
 In the language of Scripture "the set time to favour them has come." 
 No stronger proof of this assertion need be adduced, than the constitu 
 tion of a Society recently organized at the seat of government, under the 
 appellation of " The American Society for promoting the civilization 
 and general improvement of the Indian tribes within the United States : * 
 and which comprizes a great proportion of those illustrious characters, 
 whose virtues dignify their opinions, and whose opinions must influence 
 multitudes in our great community. 
 
ERRATA. 
 
 Page 
 
 13, 
 
 line 236, 
 
 /or " Chymistry," 
 
 read 
 
 Chemistry. 
 
 tt 
 
 18, 
 
 " 338, 
 
 " " Taricssin," 
 
 tt 
 
 Taliesin. 
 
 
 
 25, 
 
 " 503, 
 
 ** " Hu^onot," 
 
 tt 
 
 Huguenot. 
 
 M 
 
 43. 
 
 " 273, 
 
 " " stroin," 
 
 n 
 
 storm. 
 
 
 
 56, 
 
 " 591, 
 
 .. u swe pt by winds," " 
 
 swept by the winds. 
 
 
 
 76, 
 
 " i037, 
 
 " " Mackbcth," 
 
 tt 
 
 Macbeth. 
 
 M 
 
 86, 
 
 " 1280, 
 
 " " twin d," 
 
 tt 
 
 turn d. 
 
 <( 
 
 94, 
 
 " 110, 
 
 "Burby." 
 
 H 
 
 Bur ley. 
 
 
 
 96, 
 
 " 172, 
 
 "blest," 
 
 M 
 
 blessed. 
 
 M 
 
 102, 
 
 299, 
 
 " "her," 
 
 " 
 
 it s. 
 
 
 
 103, 
 
 " 321, 
 
 " " pavilliou s," 
 
 " 
 
 pavillions. 
 
 M 
 
 128, 
 
 " 890, 
 
 u fry," 
 
 H 
 
 fiery. 
 
 (( 
 
 156, 
 
 " 65, 
 
 " "love," 
 
 
 
 lore. 
 
 U 
 
 164, 
 
 " 232, 
 
 " u annals," 
 
 H 
 
 annal. 
 
 (1 
 
 176, 
 
 522, 
 
 " " unodorous," 
 
 M 
 
 inodorous. 
 
 
 
 184, 
 
 16, 
 
 * " Hascala," 
 
 ( 
 
 Tlascala. 
 
 d 
 
 184, 
 
 " 24, 
 
 "Hascalans," 
 
 H 
 
 Tlascalans. 
 
 H 
 
 187, 
 
 30, 
 
 " Tehewah," 
 
 H 
 
 Yohewah. 
 
 K 
 
 190, 
 
 " 2, 
 
 "deposit," 
 
 
 
 deposite. 
 
 H 
 
 198, 
 
 26, 
 
 " " the best six," 
 
 H 
 
 there is one for the best six. 
 
 
 
 206, 
 
 16, 
 
 " "pertcesi," 
 
 H 
 
 pertsesa. 
 
 H 
 
 U 
 
 " 25, 
 
 " * tendentes," 
 
 
 
 tondeiites. 
 
 M 
 
 H 
 
 26, 
 
 " magnanima," 
 
 tt 
 
 magnanimie. 
 
 M 
 
 U 
 
 " 33, 
 
 " " Expletus," 
 
 tt 
 
 Expletos. 
 
 ft 
 
 207, 
 
 " 2, 
 
 " " Dizos," 
 
 tt 
 
 Diros. 
 
 tt 
 
 210, 
 
 " 14, 
 
 " " 1759," 
 
 tt 
 
 1559. 
 
 U 
 
 220, 
 
 " !> 
 
 " " Grosnold," 
 
 tt 
 
 Gosnold. 
 
 U 
 
 222, 
 
 " 32, 
 
 " "falling," 
 
 tt 
 
 fatting. 
 
 11 
 
 233, 
 
 26, 
 
 " " 1623," 
 
 tt 
 
 1603. 
 
 U 
 
 235, 
 
 " 2, 
 
 * " supercede, 
 
 ft 
 
 supersede. 
 
 tt 
 
 241, 
 
 14, 
 
 " " Scammomy," 
 
 ft 
 
 Scammony. 
 
 M 
 
 242, 
 
 16, 
 
 " " Friostcum," 
 
 ft 
 
 Triosteum. 
 
 H 
 
 252, 
 
 " 4, 
 
 " " carnelian," 
 
 tt 
 
 carnelion. 
 
 (| 
 
 2fi3, 
 
 " !5, 
 
 " " C;-pitoliiuis," 
 
 ft 
 
 Capitolina. 
 
 
 
 268, 
 
 " 27, 
 
 " " ameliorate," 
 
 
 
 meliorate. 
 
 (1 
 
 273, 
 
 " 1, 
 
 " "and," 
 
 
 
 the 
 
 a 
 
 273, 
 
 13, 
 
 " " ameliorate," 
 
 ft 
 
 meliorate. 
 
 M 
 
 276, 
 
 " 12, 
 
 " tt recreations," 
 
 ft 
 
 recreation. 
 
 A very few minor errata are still unnoticed. 
 
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