LIBRARY 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA 
 DAVIS 
 

 ' 
 

THE 
 
 WRITINGS 
 
 OF 
 
 ROBERT C. SANDS, 
 
 PROSE AND VERSE. 
 
 A MEMOIR OF THE AUTHOR. 
 
 IN TWO VOLUMES. 
 VOL. I. 
 
 NEW-YORK: 
 
 HARPER & BROTHERS, 82 CLIFF-STREET. 
 1834. 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA 
 DAVIS 
 
Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1834, 
 
 By HARPER & BROTHERS, 
 In the Clerk's Office of the Southern District of New-York* 
 
MEMOIR 
 
 OF 
 
 ROBERT C. SANDS. 
 
 ROBEBT C. SANDS was born in the city of New- York, May 1 1th, 
 1799. He was the son of Comfort Sands, for many years an 
 eminent merchant of that city, who had, during the war of the 
 Revolution, arid especially in its early and most doubtful stages, 
 distinguished himself for his zealous and active support of 
 American Independence, and who outliving all his colleagues and 
 fellow-labourers in that cause, is, after the lapse of fifty-nine years, 
 the sole survivor of the New- York Committee of Public Safety, and 
 of the Convention which declared the independence of the State 
 of New- York, and framed its first constitution. 
 
 Young Sands was remarkable at an uncommonly early age for 
 great quickness of apprehension and facility in acquiring know 
 ledge. In this instance, as in many similar ones, the influence 
 of his mother's mind, information, and tastes, was very marked in 
 the early development of her son's intellect, and the exciting in 
 him an ardent thirst for knowledge and love of reading. He 
 began the study of Latin at the age of seven. Some time after he 
 removed with his father's family to Newark, New-Jersey ; now 
 a large, populous, and thriving town, but at that time remarkable 
 as being one of the most beautiful and quiet villages of our land. 
 There he pursued classical studies under the instruction of Mr. 
 Findlay. He appears to have been singularly fortunate in meet 
 ing with such a teacher, for classical instruction was at that time 
 at a very low ebb throughout the country. With a few very 
 honourable exceptions (and those chiefly in the larger cities), this 
 occupation was in the hands of young men, who looked to it only 
 for a temporary support, and who, as they were imperfectly ac- 
 
4 MEMOIR OP 
 
 quainted with the languages themselves, and wholly ignorant of 
 their delicacies and beauties, could not teach what they did not 
 know, and made no attempt to give their pupils a better in 
 struction than they had received themselves. But Sands always 
 gratefully acknowledged the high merit of Mr. Findlay, who, as 
 he frequently remarked, early succeeded in inspiring him with a 
 comprehension of the beauties of Virgil, and a relish for his 
 poetry, which he never lost. The ^Eneid was always after 
 ward his refreshment when wearied by severer studies ; and 
 to the last day of his life it was a common practice with him, 
 whenever he wished to kindle his imagination, or excite that intel 
 lectual glow congenial to eloquent composition, to animate his 
 mind by the harmonious verses of the Mantuan poet. 
 
 He was afterward placed under the care of the late Rev. P. M. 
 Whelpley, subsequently pastor of the First Presbyterian Church 
 in New-York, by whom he was prepared for college. He was 
 admitted into the Sophomore Class of Columbia College, New- 
 York, in October, 1812. This college had long been distin 
 guished for sound and accurate instruction in the dead lan 
 guages ; but just before Sands's entrance, its course of study had 
 been remodelled and improved, and its discipline and instruction 
 had received a fresh and vigorous impulse from the talent and 
 learning of Dr. Mason, who had been elected provost the year 
 before. Classical learning, in particular, was carried much further 
 than had been heretofore usual in the academic institutions of 
 America ; and the Grecian poets, tragedians, and orators were 
 taught not merely as the authorities of language, but as models 
 of thought and style. Sands was fortunate here not only in his 
 teachers, but in the companions of his studies. Among these were 
 several young men of high promise, and especially his intimate 
 and beloved friend the late James Eastburn, afterward a clergy 
 man of the Protestant Episcopal Church, a youth of great moral 
 excellence as well as of a most fertile and highly-cultivated mind, 
 Several years after, in some unpublished verses, Sands alluding 
 to this early literary friendship, thus addressed his friend : 
 
 E'en then that chastened purity of soul 
 Became the destined sacerdotal stole ; 
 E'en then example checked my wider range, 
 Which precept vainly strove, I fear, to change. 
 
ROBERT C. SANDS. 5 
 
 Under such advantages and with such a companion he con 
 tinued to pursue, with unflagging zeal, the study of the languages 
 and authors of antiquity, especially the poets, whom he read with 
 a deep and fine feeling for their beauties. The other branches 
 of collegiate study, and particularly the mathematics, of which a 
 very full and accurate course was taught, were mastered by him 
 with the same ease and facility as his more favourite literary 
 studies. But he seems never to have recurred to those studies in 
 after-life, nor did they furnish him with many topics of illustration 
 or of argument in his writings, so that the facility with which he 
 mastered the academic course, seems rather an evidence of general 
 capacity than of any inclination or taste for mathematical or 
 physical studies. 
 
 In his second collegiate year (the junior or third of the aca 
 demic course), he set on foot, in conjunction with his friend East- 
 burn and some other young associates, a literary periodical, en 
 titled "The Moralist," which, however, lived only through a 
 single number. Not discouraged by this failure, the same asso 
 ciates shortly after established a second and similar work, which 
 was entitled, " Academic Recreations," and published in neatly, 
 printed duodecimo numbers. The contents were entirely literary 
 or classical, and though of course bearing sufficient evidence of the 
 youth of their authors, yet did credit to their scholarship and 
 taste. It lived only to the end of the year ; Mr. Sands having 
 contributed a large proportion both in prose and verse. 
 
 He was graduated A.B. in 1815, and soon after began the study 
 of law in the office of David B. Ogden, a distinguished and elo 
 quent advocate of the city of New- York. He entered upon his 
 new course of study with an ardour and lively curiosity not very 
 common among young law-students, who have ever been " smit 
 with the love of sacred song," or familiar with the delights of ele 
 gant literature. His legal studies, however, were regular and 
 even profound. His law reading was extensive and laborious, 
 and he became not only well acquainted with the more practical 
 professional knowledge, but soon acquired a relish for the ab 
 struse doctrines and subtle reasonings of the ancient common-law, 
 which, if he did not quite esteem as the perfection of human rea 
 son, he yet throughout life regarded with a certain filial reverence, 
 that scarcely permitted him to feel much charity for what he 
 
6 MEMOIR OF 
 
 deemed the heresies of codification and reform. He frequently 
 expressed such opinions, generally in jocose language, but always 
 with a sober meaning. Thus, for instance, in a whimsical mis 
 cellaneous essay of his on various temporary subjects of the day, 
 written after his admission to the bar: "Why cannot I too 
 uplift my testimony on the fertile topic of codification, and 
 legislate for the whole New Continent ? Because, oh my judg 
 ment, thou knowest that half of the smaller fry, who sing chorus 
 to Jeremy Bentham, have not yet found out what the meaning of 
 codification is ; and never could nor can explain what they want. 
 And, moreover, had these same Solons, who are the men and with 
 whom wisdom will die, been born under the Old Testament dis 
 pensation, and raised in the Land of Promise, they would have 
 been equally uproarious for codifying the moral law, and appoint 
 ing a committee to revise Deuteronomy and Leviticus." 
 
 He was not stimulated in his legal studies merely by an indis 
 criminate curiosity and blind reverence for antiquity. His aspira 
 tions for professional distinction were noble and generous. In 
 some verses, written about this period, not unlike in thought and 
 feeling to the celebrated Lawyer's Farewell to his Muse of Sir 
 William Biackstone, and perhaps suggested by it, he says, 
 
 Farewell, delusive dreams ! I ask not now 
 
 The wreath that crowns the immortal poet's brow, 
 
 Bought with a lingering pang of hope deferred, 
 
 While glad success in his cold urn interred, 
 
 Wakes not her taper's trembling brilliancy, 
 
 Till on his vision bursts eternity ! 
 
 Far other prospects open on me now, 
 
 Wild wastes and mountains bleak with rugged brow,-~ 
 
 A mazy path that time hath ever strewed 
 
 With tangled weeds, and many a bramble rude ; 
 
 Where patient toil alone the end can win, 
 
 This journey ever seeming to begin. 
 
 Bat, oh ! how glorious is the meed obtained, 
 
 By honest labour and by virtue gained. 
 
 Who would not mount to live in deathless fame, 
 
 And link his own with Tully's honoured name ; 
 
 A prouder boast than conquered armies tell, 
 
 Or vanquished realms, a victor's praise that swell. 
 
 The ardour with which he pursued his legal studies, and the 
 
ROBERT C. SANDS. 7 
 
 feeling which animated him in them, are strongly shown in a 
 passage of a letter to a friend, written in 1817. 
 
 " I am now making an abstract of Coke upon Littleton, and do 
 actually feel as much interested in it as I once was in Henry IV* 
 Certainly there is no study in which those two grand faculties of 
 intellect, reason and memory, are so much exercised as law* 
 Venerable name ! Pettifoggers have trod in its temple and sullied 
 its Parian marble, and knaves have wove their filmy cobwebs 
 around its walls, but the statues of Cicero and Hortensius, of 
 Montesquieu, Coke, Hale, Blackstone, and Hamilton, are tower 
 ing in all their dignity, and the mighty fabric rears its majestic 
 head the prop and the glory of the earth." 
 
 Still he found time for the study of the classics, and in company 
 with two or three friends, read several of the most difficult of the 
 Greek authors, most exactly and critically. His love of compo 
 sition, which he himself termed " his mental mania," continued 
 to grow upon him. He wrote on all subjects and for all pur 
 poses ; and in addition to essays, verses, &c., on topics of his 
 own choice, volunteered to write orations for the commencement 
 displays of young graduates, verses for young lovers, and ever* 
 sermons for young divines. Several of the latter, written in an 
 animated and perhaps florid style, were much admired, when de 
 livered in the pulpit with good emphasis and discretion, to congre 
 gations who little suspected to whom they were indebted for their 
 edification. One of them, at least, has been printed under the 
 name of the clergyman by whom it was delivered.* In 1817 he 
 published a poem, which he had begun and in great part written 
 four years before. It was called " The Bridal of Vaumond," and 
 was a metrical romance, in the irregular measure of Scott's Lay 
 of the Last Minstrel, and founded on the same legend of the 
 transformation of a decrepit and miserable wretch into a youthful 
 hero, by compact with the infernal powers, which forms the 
 groundwork of Byron's Deformed-Transformed. I know not 
 whether both of these poems do not owe their origin to Pickers-* 
 gill's spirited Romance of the Three Brothers, published' some 
 
 * Lest from the previous mention of the intimacy between Sands and the 
 Rev. James Eastburn, any reader should suppose that he was the clergy 
 man alluded to, it is due to his memory to say, that he would never resort 
 to his friend or any one else for such aid. 
 
8 MEMOIR OF 
 
 years before, a book that seems never to have much attracted public 
 attention. The Bridal of Vaumond was harshly criticized in a re 
 view of some reputation and ability, then published in New- York ; 
 and whether from this cause or from the defects consequent upon 
 the author's immaturity of mind, coupled with the then very 
 general indifference to American literature, it sunk into oblivion. 
 It bears, however, strong marks of talent and learning. The 
 facility of its versification, the command of poetical language and 
 imagery, the brilliancy of many of its conceptions, occasionally, 
 and the daring wildness of its fancy, gave promise of greater 
 things. But the author, after the first feelings of disappointment 
 were passed, seemed willing to let it die as a juvenile production; 
 and never referred to this early publication, in conversation, but 
 with apparent dislike.* 
 
 I am not certain whether it is to this, or to some of his still 
 earlier writings, that he alludes in one of his manuscripts, when 
 he says, 
 
 And now when two short years have brought the cure 
 
 That checks the mental mania premature, 
 
 And shows how oft, when most I wished to rise, 
 
 My grovelling muse was furthest from the skies ; 
 
 Still do I deem the public scorn unjust, 
 
 That gave my labours to unclassic dust. 
 
 It was during the period of these studies that he and three of 
 his friends, of as many different professions, formed an associa 
 tion, of a somewhat remarkable character, under the name of the 
 Literary Confederacy. The number was limited to four; and 
 they bound themselves solemnly to preserve a friendly communi 
 cation in all the vicissitudes of life, and to endeavour, by all proper 
 means, to advance their mutual and individual interest, to advise 
 each other on every subject, and to receive with good temper the 
 rebuke or admonition which, might thus be given. They pro 
 posed to unite, from time to time, in literary publications, covenant 
 ing solemnly that no matter hostile to the great principles of reli 
 gion or morals should be published by any member. They stipu 
 lated that whenever any two or more members should be within 
 two miles of each other for any length of time exceeding a week, 
 
 * It has, on this account, been omitted in the present collection. 
 
C. SANDS, 9 
 
 they should meet together. This compact of friendship was most 
 faithfully kept to the time of Mr. Sands's death, though the primary 
 and purely literary objects of it were gradually given up as other 
 cares and duties engrossed the attention of its members. In the 
 first years of its existence, the Confederacy contributed largely to 
 several literary and critical journals, besides publishing in one 
 of the daily papers of the city a series of essays, under the 
 title of the Neologist, and another under the title of the Amphilo- 
 gist, which attracted much attention, and were very widely circu 
 lated and republished in the newspapers of the day. Mr. Sands 
 wrote a large portion of these* both in prose and verse. 
 
 His friend Eastburn had now removed to Bristol, Rhode-Island, 
 when* after for some time studying divinity under the direction of 
 the Rt. Rev. Bishop Griswold, he took orders in the Protestant 
 Episcopal Church, and soon after settled at Onancock, on the 
 eastern shore of Virginia. A regular and frequent correspond 
 ence was kept up between these friends ; and the letters that 
 happen to have been preserved^ are filled with the evidence of their 
 literary industry, zeal, and ardour. Mr. Eastburn had undertaken 
 a new metrical version of the Psalms, which the pressure of his 
 clerical duties and his untimely death prevented him from ever 
 completing. Sands was led by his general literary curiosity as 
 well as by his intimacy with Eastburn, to acquire some knowledge 
 of the Hebrew. It was not very profound, but it induced and 
 enabled him to try his hand too at the same translation ; and 
 he from time to time sent his friend a psalm paraphrased in. 
 verse. 
 
 The following extracts from one of his letters to his friend, in 
 1819, relating to this subject, as well as his other studies, are 
 very characteristic. 
 
 * Touching the Psalms of David by J. W. Eastburn (Taylor's 
 Sermons by Dr. Johnson), I am sincerely glad that you have set at 
 them vigorously ; and only hope that the indispensable prelude of 
 Hebrew, and symphony of commentators, may not drown the 
 melody they accompany. An English version of the Psalms, 
 faithful, yet free ; close, yet evangelical ; poetical, but devotional ; 
 is unquestionably a desideratum : and if one of our Confederacy 
 could accomplish it, it would certainly be the most durable monur 
 ment that we can desire to perpetuate our remembrance. It 
 
 B 
 
10 MEMOIR OP 
 
 would be hard to produce a more enviable immortality thaff 
 Watts enjoys, who is known by heart by so many Christians, aiicf 
 whose words, the vehicle of their most sensible devotion, are 
 sounded so often in the most majestic of human temples, 're 
 produce the best possible paraphrase of the Songs of Israel, the 
 poet should undoubtedly have in his eyes the whole map of the 
 Holy Land, geographical and political ; be familiar with the 
 Jewish history, manners, and ritual ; and then,; feeling as a Chris 
 tian, proceed to spiritualize his theme : remembering always that 
 his only task is to correct the Hebrew future into the Christian 
 present tense ; and that he is unjustifiable in omitting a single 
 allusion, since every thing was typical. By-the-way, the Hebrew 
 language was singularly adapted to the slate of the people, who 
 had themselves no present tense ; who, deep in the shadow of 
 the past, seem to have flitted on the scene, as if in a pre-existenC 
 state ; called up by the divine magician, like the images of the 
 future on the clouded mirror of the wizard ; and all whose institu 
 tions were only promises of their more glorious metempsychosis. 
 Now, O Posthumus Terentianus* since we are willing to concede 
 to the Deacon of Onancock a certain portion of imagination, and 
 know from many specimens of his perseverance that the said 
 deacon has considerable industry, we see BO reason to doubt his 
 capacity of executing the aforementioned version, on the plan and 
 principles aforesaid. I am convinced that the process of para 
 phrase may be conducted mechanically. (If that term may be 
 applied to the mind. As for the mere rhyme, we all know thai 
 it comes to yew, of course !) 
 
 ******* 
 
 " We read Herodotus (in whose style of digression as we are 
 all creatures of imitation this epistle is composed), from one to- 
 half-past two every day, as a change from poetry. We shall 
 finish Clio this week, when we shall probably attack ^Eschylus 
 again. I believe I wrote you that we had finished the translation 
 of Prometheus. I am> now translating the Orestes of Euripides- 
 When we commence reading the Greek tragedians, with our heads 
 full of modern poetry, we are most pleased with the wildness, 
 unnaturality, and verboseness of ^Eschylus. I use these qualify 
 ing words not in a bad sense, for ^Eschylus has method in his 
 madness, sublimity and consistency in his fables, and beautiful, 
 
ROBERT C. SANDS. 11 
 
 or rather admirable felicity in his compound epithets. I venerate 
 him as much as Parson Adams did, and should be sorry to com 
 pare him with modern plagiarists. But I must confess, after read 
 ing the Orestes, Hecuba, Alcestis, and Cyclops, the admirable 
 tenderness, simplicity, keeping of character, nature (and, perhaps 
 more than all, the facility with which he is read) of Euripides, 
 have made me a convert to his admirers. I do not like Sopho 
 cles. It may, however, arise from a vitiation of taste. I move 
 that the Confederacy make it one of their objects to effect transla 
 tions of the chef-d'ceuvres of the Greek tragedians. 
 
 " You say you can give us dissertations on Hebrew poetry and 
 oriental manners : I wish you would. It would add still more t 
 the variety of our papers, and promote their reputation for scholar 
 ship. Could not you write a tale, and lay the scene in Judea ? 
 You can so easily find a plot in the Bible or Josephus, that you 
 can soon finish one ; or else take any fable, and the oriental 
 
 -oestume will give it an original air." 
 
 ******* 
 
 But amid their severer studies and their literary amusements, 
 the two young friends were engaged in a bolder and more sus 
 tained poetical enterprise. This was a romantic poem, founded 
 on the History of Philip, the celebrated Sachem of the Pequods, 
 the brave and almost successful leader of the great Indian wars 
 against the New-England colonists in 1675 and 1676. It was 
 planned by Eastburn during ,his residence at Bristol, Rhode-Island, 
 in the vicinity of Mount Hope, the ancient capital of the Pequod 
 race, where, and in the neighbourhood of which, the scene is 
 laid. In the year following, when he visited New- York, the plan 
 of the proposed story was drawn up in conjunction. " We had 
 then," said Sands, " read nothing on the subject ; and our plot was 
 formed from a hasty glance into a few pages of Hubbard's Narrative. 
 After Mr. Eastburn' s return to Bristol, the poem was written, accord 
 ing to the parts severally assigned ; and transmitted, reciprocally, in 
 the course of correspondence. It was commenced in November, 
 1817, and finished before the summer of 1818; except the con 
 cluding stanzas of the sixth canto, which were added after Mr. 
 Eastburn left Bristol. As the fable was defective from our 
 ignorance of the subject* :tke execution was also from the same 
 cause, and the hasty mode of composition, in every respect, im- 
 
MEMOIR OP 
 
 perfect. Mr. Eastburn was then preparing to take orders ; and 
 his studies, with that view, engrossed his attention. He was or 
 dained in October, 1818. Between that time and the period of 
 his going to Accomack county, in Virginia, whence he had re 
 ceived an invitation to take charge of a congregation, he tran 
 scribed the first two cantos of this poem, with but few material 
 variations, from the first collating copy. The labours of his min 
 istry left him no time even for his most delightful amusement. 
 He had made no further progress in the correction of the work 
 when he returned to New-York, in July, 1819. His health was 
 then so much impaired, that writing of any kind was too great a 
 labour. He had packed up the manuscripts, intending to finish 
 his second copy in Santa Cruz, whither it was recommended to 
 him to go, as the last resource, to recruit his exhausted con 
 stitution." He died on the fourth day of his passage, December 
 2d, 1819. 
 
 The work thus left imperfect, was revised, arranged, and com 
 pleted, with many additions by Sands. It was introduced by a 
 Proem, in which the surviving poet mourned, in noble and touch? 
 ing strains, the accomplished friend of his youth, with whom 
 
 began the love 
 
 Of sacred song ; the wont, in golden dreams, 
 
 Mid classic realms of splendours past to rove, 
 O'er haunted steep, and by immortal streams : 
 
 Where the blue wave, with sparkling bosom gleams 
 Round shores, the mind's eternal heritage, 
 
 For ever lit by memory's twilight beams; 
 Where the proud dead that live in storied page 
 
 Beckon, with awful port, to glory's earlier age ; 
 
 and with whom he had essayed to 
 
 evoke the plumed chieftains brave, 
 
 And bid their martial hosts arise again, 
 
 * Where Narraganset's tides roll by their grave, 
 
 And Haup's romantic steeps are piled above the wave. 
 
 This Proem as a whole is beautiful ; and our language has, I 
 think, few passages of more genuine and more exquisite poetry 
 than the first four and the six concluding stanzas. They have a 
 sobered and subdued intensity of feeling, carrying with it the 
 conviction of truth and reality, while at the same time they 
 
ROBERT C. SANDS. 18 
 
 glow with an opulent splendour of language and allusion, not un 
 worthy of the learned imagination of Milton himself. 
 
 The poem was published under the title of Yamoyden, at 
 New- York in 1820. 
 
 It unquestionably shows some marks of the youth of its au 
 thors, besides some other imperfections arising from the mode of 
 its composition, which could not fail to prove a serious impedi 
 ment to a clear connexion of the plot, and a vivid and congruous 
 conception of all the characters. Yet it has high merit in vari 
 ous ways. Its descriptions of natural scenery are alike accurate 
 and beautiful. Its style is flexible, flowing, and poetical. The 
 language, more especially in Sands's part of the work, is enriched 
 by an evident familiarity wilh Comus, and the minor poems of 
 Milton ; perhaps leaning a little too much to a fondness for more 
 unusual archaisms of construction and phrase not always worth 
 reviving. . The poem is rich throughout with historical and anti 
 quarian knowledge of Indian history and tradition ; and every 
 thing in the customs, manners, superstitions, and story of the 
 aborigines of New-England, that could be applied to poetical 
 purposes, is used with skill, judgment, and taste. Such is the 
 power with which some of the almost repulsively horrible imagery 
 of the savage superstitions is used, that the author of an admirable 
 and most eloquent review of Yamoyden, in the North American 
 Review, does not hesitate to say of it, " We do not remember 
 any thing finer of the semi-infernal kind, except Shakspeare's 
 witches. We are at a loss how to praise this part of the poem 
 sufficiently to satisfy ourselves, without seeming extravagant, 
 We think we see in it proof of an imagination equal to a story of 
 the class of the Vampire, or the Monk, which should make those 
 horrible fictions seem almost nursery tales."* 
 
 The publication of this poena gave Mr, Sands great literary 
 reputation throughout the United States, to which the review that 
 has just been quoted aided not a little. He became personally 
 known to many distinguished literary men, and in a visit to Boston, 
 in particular, received many and most flattering attentions, in 
 
 * North American Review, No. XII. p. 466. The concluding pages of 
 the Review, in which the fitness of our early American history for the pur 
 poses of poetical and romantic fiction are pointed out, are splendidly eloquent. 
 
14 MEMOIR OP 
 
 pite of a harsh allusion in Yamoyden to the modern theology of 
 Harvard University. 
 
 In 1820, he was admitted to the bar, and opened an office in 
 the city of New- York. He entered upon his professional career, 
 as has been said, filled with high hopes and an ardent love of 
 the learning of the law. These were sufficiently strong to induce 
 him to decline an offer of honourable employment in another 
 walk, which would appear to have been more adapted to his 
 taste or acquirements. A great effort had been made to resus 
 citate Dir-kenson College, at Carlisle, Penn., a respectable semi 
 nary of learning, that had been depressed by various adverse 
 circumstances, The legislature of Pennsylvania had granted a 
 liberal allowance for the salaries of several professors for a term 
 f years. Dr. Mason, of New- York, was chosen president, and 
 invited to select his own body of professors. He selected Sands, 
 then just of age, to fill the chair of Belles Letters. After a short 
 consideration he declined the office, and Dr. Mason, who was 
 anxious to compose his academic corps of young men, as well 
 as of men of talents, then solicited him to select a substitute from 
 among his literary companions. But he was not destined to the 
 success at the bar that his young ambition had pictured to him in 
 such brilliant colours, and which in truth his talents and love of the 
 profession seemed to authorize him to expect. His first attempt 
 &s an advocate, without being a failure, fell far short of his own 
 proposed standard and expectations. It evidently disheartened 
 him, and though he still pursued the business of an attorney and 
 his legal studies, he made no renewed attempt of any consequence 
 before a court or jury, and after a few years gradually withdrew 
 from the profession to other pursuits. Why and how this hap 
 pened is not easy to explain or even to conjecture. He had not 
 that degree of pecuniary independence which so often proves the 
 bane of young professional men, and he had long looked to the law 
 for the means of support, Independence, and distinction. He was 
 not impeded by that fastidious dislike to the law as a study 
 go often experienced by the literary, the speculative, and the philo 
 sophical. He had habits of great and intense industry ; and 
 though this industry was somewhat irregular, this arose mainly 
 from the nature of his pursuits and occupations, and would have 
 been corrected by the routine of professional labour. He had 
 
ROBERT C. SANDS. 15 
 
 already a considerable stock of law learning, which he did not lose 
 in leaving the bar. He had great command of language, fertility 
 of thought, power of illustration, and a playful, original, and over 
 flowing humour, which might have been turned to great effect in 
 extemporary eloquence. He had a singularly shrewd and quick 
 observation of character ; and while he was somewhat averse to 
 metaphysical reasoning, was laborious and acute in the investi 
 gation and discussion of facts. With all this, nothing but a reso 
 lute will appears to have been wanting to have secured him a 
 highly respectable standing at the bar, perhaps, (for of this it is 
 impossible to speak with confidence of any one), to have enrolled 
 his among the illustrious names of the law, with the Mans- 
 fields, Erskines, and Hamiltons, whose forensic glories had once 
 fired his young imagination. While he was still loitering at the 
 bar, and attending to some practice as an attorney, he continued 
 his law reading, and renewed and extended his acquaintance with 
 the poets of antiquity. Thus he acquired an intimacy, such as 
 professors might have envied, with the Greek language and lite 
 rature, and especially with " the lofty grave tragedians," whom 
 he used to praise with Milton, as " teachers best of moral 
 prudence." He retained to his death his youthful preference 
 for Euripides, whom he used to call an English poet, born in 
 ancient Greece, having, as he once said in conversation, " more of 
 every thing that touches the sympathies of the modern reader than 
 any other ancient." His admiration of JBschylus, that great master 
 of the noble, the sublime, the pathetic, constantly increased with 
 every perusal* In grandeur and magnificence of conception he 
 thought him peerless, and said that there needed little study of 
 what he had left to be coavinced that even his own rich and flexi 
 ble language was insufficient to supply the exuberant demands of 
 his imagination. To this cause he imputed the difficulties found 
 in his choruses and more poetical passages. " As with Shaks- 
 peare, expression sunk under the weight of his thoughts, or 
 received from him a power which the same words never had 
 before."* He had early learned French, and was familiar with 
 
 * These opinions Sands has put in the mouth of Mr. Jefferson in his 
 Ghosts on the Stage, originally published in the Talisman. As that article, 
 from the air of truth it bears, may hereafter be referred to as wholly authen 
 tic, and furnishing the actual conversation of Mr. Jefferson, it is proper to 
 state, that it is a mixture of truth and invention. Every thing relating to tho 
 
16 MEMOIR 01 
 
 its copious and elegant literature f but he never much admired it, 
 and in his multifarious literary conversation and authorship, rarely 
 quoted or alluded to a French author, except merely for facts. 
 He now acquired the Italian, and read carefully and with great 
 admiration all its great writers, from Dante to Alfieri. Those 
 who knew the peculiar character of Sands's mind, and how 
 rapidly his fancy rambled from the imaginative to the ludi 
 crous, would naturally suppose that Ariosto and his school of wild 
 sportive romance and capricious humour, must have been his 
 favourite reading in this rich literature. It is rather a curious 
 fact that this seems not to have been the case. He doubtless 
 read those poets with much pleasure, but neither alluded to nor 
 quoted them in his writings or conversation, nor translated or imi 
 tated them, as he frequently did the graver and more chastened 
 strains of the Italian Muse. His translations and imitations of 
 Politian, Monti, and Metastasio attest how fully he entered into 
 their spirit. Some time after he acquired the Spanish language 
 very critically, and after studying its more celebrated writers, read 
 very largely all the Spanish historians and documents he could 
 procure touching American history. In order to complete his 
 acquaintance with the cognate modern languages of Latin origin, 
 he some years later acquired the Portuguese, and read such of 
 hs authors as he could procure. 
 
 In 1822 and 1823 he wrote many articles for the Literary 
 Review, a monthly periodical then published in New-York, which 
 received great increase of reputation from his contributions. 
 These were written in conjunction with his friends of the Literary 
 Confederacy, or at least were submitted to their revision, and bore, 
 as did the contributions of the other members, the signature of 
 L. C. They were very multifarious ; and as many of them, though 
 bearing his marked characteristics of style and thought, were 
 either careless productions or on temporary subjects, a selection 
 only of them has been preserved in the present collection of his 
 works. In the winter of 1823-4, he and his friends of the Confed 
 eracy published seven numbers of a sort of mock-magazine, en- 
 personal habits of the philosophic statesman, the curious particulars respect 
 ing his studies, literary tastes, his books, and even his compiled edition of 
 vE*chylus, are literally true ; the conversation and critical opinions put in hi* 
 mouth arc a poetical license. _ 
 
ROBERT C. SANDS. 17 
 
 titled the St. Tammany Magazine. Here he gave the reins to 
 his most extravagant and happiest humour, indulging in parody, 
 burlesque, and grotesque satire, thrown off in the gayest mood 
 and with the greatest rapidity, but as good-natured as satire and 
 parody could well be. In May, 1824, the Atlantic Magazine 
 was established in New- York, and placed under his charge. At 
 the end of six months he gave up this work ; but when it changed 
 its name and somewhat its character, and became the New- York 
 Review, he was re-engaged as an editor, and assisted in conduct 
 ing it until 1827. He had now become an author by profession, 
 and looked to his pen for support, as heretofore for fame or for 
 amusement. When, therefore, an offer of a liberal salary was 
 made him as an assistant editor of the New-York Commercial 
 Advertiser, a long established and well-known daily evening 
 paper, published in the city of New- York, he accepted it, and 
 continued his connexion with that journal until his death. :-,-;. 
 
 His daily task of political or literary discussion was far from 
 giving him sufficient literary employment. His mind over 
 flowed in all directions into other journals, even some of different 
 political opinions from those which he supported. Some one has 
 termed the famous Shakspearian commentator Steevens " the Puck 
 of literature." Sands had like him something of a propensity for 
 innocent and playful literary mischief. It was his sport to excite 
 public curiosity by giving extracts highly spiced with fashionable 
 allusions and satire, "from the forth-coming novel;" which novel 
 in truth, was, and is yet ".o be written ; or else to entice some un 
 happy wight into a literary or historical newspaper discussion, then 
 to combat him anonymously, or under the mask of a brother editor, 
 to overwhelm him with history, facts, quotations, and authorities, all 
 manufactured for the occasion ; in short, like Shakspeare's " merry 
 wanderer of the night," to lead his unsuspecting victim around 
 " through bog, throug'h bush, through brier." One instance of this 
 sportive propensity occurred in relation to a controversy about the 
 material of the Grecian crown of victory, which arose during the 
 excitement in favour of Grecian liberty some years ago. Several in 
 genious young men, fresh from their college studies, had exhausted 
 all the learning they could procure on this grave question, either 
 from their own acquaintance with antiquity, or at second hand 
 from Lempriere, Potter, Barthelemi, or the more erudite Paschalis 
 
 C 
 
IS MEMOIR OF 
 
 de Corona ; till Sands grew tired of seeing so much scholarship 
 wasted, and ended the controversy by an essay filled with excel 
 lent learning, all fabricated by himself for the occasion, and resting 
 mainly on a passage of Pausanias, quoted in the original Greek,. 
 for which it is in vain to look in any edition of that author, ancient 
 or modern. 
 
 He had also other and graver employments. In 1828, some 
 enterprising printers proposed to supply South America with 
 Spanish books suited for that market, and printed in New- York. 
 Among the works selected for this purpose were the original letters 
 of Cortes, the conqueror of Mexico. No good Life of Cortesr 
 then existing in the English or Spanish language, Sands was 
 employed by the publishers to prepare one, which was to be 
 translated into Spanish, and prefixed to the edition. 
 
 It was not in his nature to content himself with such material* 
 as the common English or French books furnished him, even 
 though graced with the authority of names great in literature. The 
 following extracts from letters to a friend then at Washington, 
 are given, not so much for the history of the particular subject to 
 which they relate, as indicative of the accuracy and research he 
 was accustomed to bestow on every study that seriously attracted 
 his attention. 
 
 February 10, 1828. 
 
 White, Gallaher, and White, of this city T are republishing, for 
 the market of Mexico, the letters of Cortes to Charles V. I have 
 undertaken to write a biographical notice of the Conquistador, with 
 such reflections on his character and career as may be summarily 
 suggested by the accounts of conflicting historians and the state 
 of his age. I am very much troubled for want of books. I have 
 read Robertson and Clavigero together, and am getting through 
 De Solis. I want Guevara, Bern. Diaz del Castilio, and Her- 
 rera, the two former especially, as the latter is only a com 
 piler. I found the second and third letters of Cortes in the N. Y. 
 Society Library, edited by an old fool of an archbishop of Mexico, 
 in 1770. The archbishop's notes and commentaries are of no 
 value. As you had occasion to look through several of the old 
 writers, in relation to Las Casas, perhaps you may remember 
 having seen or had possession of some or all of these three I have 
 mentioned as desired by me. You would do me a great kindness 
 
ROBERT C. SANDS, 19 
 
 if yo can put me in the way of finding them. A friend of Mr. Tick- 
 nor has written to him for me, to ascertain whether he has them. 
 I have barely two months to write the notice in, which must also 
 be translated into Spanish in that time. If I find I can make any 
 thing useful or interesting out of the subject, I will not throw away 
 the chips, but make an English Life of Cortes out of it. I beg the 
 archbishop's pardon for calling him an old fool ut supra, for he 
 gives the most philosophical solution of the peopling of America 
 I ever heard, and throws Carver, Judge Boudinot, and Washing 
 ton Irving, to say nothing of the learned explorers of the subject, 
 completely into the shade. I translate him literally for your 
 edification, as it is easier to do so than to copy his obsolete or 
 thography. " There is no use," quoth the most illustrious Lord 
 Don Francisco Antonio Lorenzano, " there is no use," says he, 
 " in fatiguing yourself about the ancestors of these people ; for, 
 from the tower of Babel, people straggled all over the world ; 
 and clear up to the north pole, no end has been found to land in 
 this America. Therefore, at this day, it is a useless question 
 how they came by sea; because by land they might come from 
 other parts of the world, and nobody can assert the contrary 
 because the end of New Spain has never been found at the north." 
 
 February 12, 1828. 
 
 k< Since I wrote you, I have seen the catalogue of books offered 
 to Congress. Some of the manuscripts are forgeries, beyond all 
 question, as any sensible person who has looked into the thing 
 can see. But among the books and manuscripts, there is all 
 that the heart of man could desire (excepting B. Diaz del 
 Castilio, which I do not find) in writing on the conquest of 
 Mexico. I cannot, of course, see any of them ; but I will be 
 obliged to you if you will be good enough to send me the cata 
 logue, as soon as you have leisure. It is numbered Report No. 
 37. I believe the City Library has received their copy through 
 you. If the manuscripts and books which are offered are ori 
 ginals, they are, in a certain sense, invaluable. There are docu 
 ments which the historiographers of the kings of Spain and Eng 
 land searched for in vain through all Europe and America. Par 
 exemple, there are the whole six letters of Cortes. I don't 
 believe it that is, I don't believe they are the letters of Cortes ; 
 
20 MEMOIR OF 
 
 but I would travel to Washington afoot if my engagements would 
 permit it, to ascertain the fact. - 1 do not understand from the 
 report where these books are to be found, but take it for granted 
 they are in Colombia." ^rr. 
 
 He was fortunately relieved from any difficulty arising from the 
 want of materials, by finding in the library of the N. Y. Histori 
 cal Society a very choice collection of original Spanish authorities, 
 which afforded him all that he desired. His manuscript was 
 translated into Spanish by Manuel Dominguez, a learned Spaniard, 
 advantageously known to his reading countrymen by other excel 
 lent versions from the English. It was prefixed to the letters of 
 Cortes, and a large edition printed, while the original remained in 
 manuscript until the present collection of Mr. Sands's writings. 
 Thus his work had the singular fortune ofbemg read throughout 
 Spanish America, in another language, while it was totally un 
 known in its own country and native tongue. 
 
 Soon after completing this piece of literary labour, he became 
 accidentally engaged in another undertaking, which afforded him 
 much amusement and gratification. The fashion of decorated 
 literary annuals, which the English and French had borrowed 
 some years before from the Literary Almanacs, so long the favour 
 ites of Germany, had reached the United States, and the booksellers 
 in the principal cities were ambitiously vying with each other in the 
 Souvenirs, Tokens, and other beautifully printed and tastefully 
 adorned yearly volumes. Mr. Bliss, a worthy bookseller of New- 
 York, and an old especial favourite with Mr. Sands, desirous to 
 try his fortune in the same way, pressed Mr. Sands to undertake 
 the editorship of an annual volume of this sort. This he at 
 first declined; but it happened, that in conversation with two 
 friends, the writer of this memoir and Mr. W. C. Bryant, a regret 
 was expressed that the old fashion of Queen Anne's time, of pub 
 lishing volumes of miscellanies by two or three authors together, 
 had gone out of date. They had the advantage, it was said, over 
 our ordinary magazines, of being more select and distinctive in the 
 characters and subjects, and yet did not impose upon the authors 
 the toil or responsibility of a regular and separate work. In this 
 way Pope and Swift had published their minor pieces, as had 
 other writers of that day, of no small merit and fame. One of 
 the party proposed to publish a little volume of their own mis- 
 
ROBERT C. SANDS. *1 
 
 +r 
 
 cellanies, in humble imitation of the English wits of the last 
 century. It occurred to Sands to combine this idea with the form 
 and decoration of the annual. The materials of a volume were 
 hastily prepared, amid other occupations of the several authors, 
 without any view to profit, and more for amusement than reputa 
 tion ; the kindness of several artists, with whom Sands was in 
 habits of intimacy, furnished some respectable embellishments, 
 and thus a volume which, with the exception of two short poetical 
 contributions, was wholly written by Mr. Sands and his two 
 friends above named, was published with the title of the Talisman, 
 and under the name and character of an imaginary author, Fran 
 cis Herbert, Esq. It was favourably received, and on the urgent 
 solicitation of the publisher, a second volume was as hastily pre 
 pared in the following year, by the same persons, decorated with 
 engravings very creditable to the state of the arts among us, from 
 spirited designs of Weir and Inman. The third year, the ambi 
 tion of the publisher soared higher, all the artists of New-York 
 were enlisted, double the quantity of literary matter was required, 
 and the industry and ready fertility of Sands were redoubled. 
 The public still gave a favourable reception. But the excitement 
 and amusement it had afforded its authors now flagged, its prim 
 itive character of a joint miscellany began to be lost, in conse 
 quence of its style of decoration and publication, in that of the 
 mere annual, and Mr. Herbert was suffered to die a natural death, 
 as many better men of the same unreal family had done before 
 him, from the time of Isaac Bickerstaff downwards. Sands 
 always retained a great affection for his memory, and sometimes 
 lamented the destruction (to use his own phrase) "of the individ 
 uality of Mr. Herbert ; triajuncta in uno, which," said he, in one 
 of his letters, "still floats in my mind not as a reminiscence or 
 as fiction, but as a present idea." Of this publication about one- 
 fourth was entirely from Sands's pen, and about as much more 
 was his joint work with one or other of his friends. This, as 
 the reader must have already remarked, was a very favourite 
 mode of authorship with him. He composed with amazing ease 
 and rapidity, and delighting as he always did in the work of com 
 position, it gave him additional pleasure to make it a social enjoy 
 ment. He had this peculiarity, that the presence of others, in 
 which most authors find a restraint upon the free course of their 
 
22 MEMOIR or 
 
 thoughts and fancies, was to him a source of inspiration and ex 
 citement. This was peculiarly visible in gay or humorous 
 writing. In social compositions of this nature, his talent for ludi 
 crous description and character and incident, rioted and revelled, 
 so that it generally became more the business of his coadjutor to 
 chasten and sober his thick-coming fancies, than to furnish any 
 thing like an equal contingent of thought or invention. . 
 
 This joint-stock authorship, of which Sands was so fond, not 
 the simply putting together in one whole, parts prepared sepa 
 rately, nor the correcting and enriching by a second hand the 
 rough materials of the first author, but the literally writing in 
 company, was common among the old English dramatists, but 
 has few other examples in literary history. The joint labours of 
 Beaumont and Fletcher are familiar to all. To these may be 
 added a joint work of Ben Jonson with Chapman, others of 
 Webster with Marston, and of Massinger with Middleton, with 
 Dekker, and with Field. The Memoirs of Scriblerus had the 
 same sort of origin. It is not easy to enlarge this list very much. 
 Indeed for the purpose of such association it is necessary that one 
 at least of the authors should possess Sands's unhesitating and 
 rapid fluency of written style, and his singular power of seizing 
 the ideas and images of his friend and assimilating them perfectly 
 to his own, 
 
 In his own opinion, the volumes of the Talisman contained the 
 best of his writings. The grave part of his contributions, and the 
 poetical, are wholly his own ; so too is the sly and subdued 
 ihumours of the " Simple Tale." His " Drearn of Papantzin," a 
 ^poem, the fruits of his researches into Mexican history, is remark 
 able for the religious solemnity of the thoughts, the magnificence 
 ,of the imagery, and the flow of the versification ; for he had (I 
 quote the opinion of an American author, whose exquisite poetry 
 already constitutes an acknowledged, as they will an enduring por 
 tion of classical English literature),* "he had an ear for poetic 
 measure, cultivated by the study of the varied and flexible rhythm 
 of the ancient classics, by the reading of the old poets of our own 
 language, and by the critical examination of the versification 
 
 * Mr. Bryant, in a brief but excellent sketch of Sands's life and character, 
 in the Knickerbocker Magazine for January, 1833, to which this memoir 
 owes much. 
 
ROBERT C. SANDS. 2 
 
 adopted in the several modern languages with which he was 
 familiar. By those who consider metrical harmony as identical 
 with monotony, who think Milton did not understand the harmony 
 of blank verse, and charge Spenser with ignorance of the art of 
 versification, because he wrote 
 
 Unweeting of the perilous wandering ways 
 
 Sands may be said to have had a bad ear ; but the fact was r 
 that he understood how to roughen his verse with skill, and to 
 vary its modulation." 
 
 The Talisman was reissued two or three years afterward by 
 the first publisher, in its originally intended form, as " Miscellanies 
 by G. C. Verplanck, W. C. Bryant, and Robert C. Sands," with a 
 preface by Mr. Sands. Some of the most considerable of hi& 
 contributions to the collection were reprinted in England in 
 various forms, among the rest as part of Miss Mitford r s selection 
 of American Tales. 
 
 In the course of the publication of these volumes, an incident 
 occurred which Sands always spoke of with so much interest and 
 pleasure that it should not be omitted here. The volumes were 
 very accurately as well as beautifully printed. Before the sheets 
 of the second volume had reached the binder, and of course long 
 before they could have fallen under the eye of any regular edi 
 torial critic, Sands was surprised to find a review of the book in? 
 the Mirror, a well known and widely circulating literary journal. 
 It was written with great sprightliness of thought, and elegance of 
 style, and in the most friendly spirit. On inquiring for the name 
 of his good-natured and able critic, Sands was surprised to learn? 
 that he was a young journeyman printer in the office, the compos- 
 itor who had himself set up the whole of 'the manuscript, and wha 
 knew the book only in that way. This was William Cox, who- 
 shortly after became a regular contributor to* American periodical- 
 literature, and has since gained an enviable literary reputation by 
 his Crayon Sketches, a series of essays, full of originality, pleas 
 antry and wit, alternately reminding the reader of the poetical 
 eloquence of Hazlitt, and the quaint humour and eccentric tastes- 
 of Charles Lamb. 
 
 Sands's next literary employment was the publication of a ne\r 
 Life of the famous Paul Jones, from original letters and printed 
 
24 MEMOIIt OF 
 
 and manuscript materials furnished him by a niece of the com 
 modore. He at first meditated an entirely original work, as 
 attractive and discursive as he could make it ; but various circum 
 stances limited him in .great part to compilation and correction of 
 the materials furnished him, or, as he termed it in one of his letters, 
 in his accustomed quaintness of phrase, " upsetting some English 
 duodecimos, together with all the manuscripts, into an American 
 octavo, without worrying his brains much about the matter." 
 This he did with his usual facility of composition ; but he did great 
 injustice to his own overflowing fertility of thought in supposing 
 that he could restrain himself to mere compilation. In spite of 
 the author's own intention, there will be found, scattered through 
 out the volume, ingenious though rapid investigations of doubtful 
 or disputed facts, and some passages of animated and patriotic 
 eloquence. This biography was printed in 1831, in a closely 
 printed octavo, and is doubtless the best and most authentic nar 
 rative of the life of this gallant, chivalrous, and erratic father of 
 the American navy. For the reasons already intimated, as well 
 as because the copyright is the property of the relations of Paul 
 Jones, it does not form a part of the present collection of Mr. 
 Sands's writings. 
 
 In the close of the year 1832, a work entitled " Tales of the 
 Glauber Spa," was published in New- York. This was a series 
 of original tales, grave and gay, by different American authors, 
 Messrs. Bryant, Paulding, Leggett, and Miss Sedgwick. To this 
 collection Sands contributed the introduction, which is deeply 
 tinged with his peculiarity of humour ; and two of the tales, the 
 one humorous, the other grave. The latter, Boyuca, was another 
 fruit of his Spanish American studies, being founded on the ro 
 mantic story of the adventurer Ponce de Leon's search for the 
 fabled fountain that could restore youth and perpetuate life a 
 search which, as is well known, led to the discovery of Florida. 
 This tale has a wonderful fulness and familiarity of character, 
 incident, and allusion, and a vividness of imagery and description 
 that give it an air of perfect though picturesque reality, strangely 
 contrasting with the wildness of the narrative. The striking and 
 singularly beautiful effect thus produced, was well described by a 
 friend, who compared it to the recollection of some strange but 
 vivid dream. 
 
V 
 
 ROBERT C. SANDS. 25 
 
 - c 4 
 
 His last finished composition was a little poem entitled " The 
 Dead of 1832," which appeared anonymously in the paper he was 
 connected with, a few days only before his own death. By one 
 of those strange coincidences that so often occur to perplex human 
 reason with suggestions which our philosophy can neither admit 
 nor refute, he selected for his subject the triumphs of Death and 
 Time over the illustrious men who had been gathered to their 
 graves in the year then just ending Goethe, and Cuvier, and 
 Spurzheim, and Walter Scott ; Champollion, who read the mystic 
 lore of the Pharaohs ; Crabbe, the poet of poverty ; Bentham, the 
 philosopher of legislation ; Adam Clarke, the meek and learned 
 hierarch of Methodism ; the young Napoleon, " the heir of glory ;" 
 and Charles Carroll, the long-lived survivor of 
 
 _ 
 
 The brave who perilled all 
 
 To make an infant empire free ; 
 
 .<-!*! 
 
 a crowd of the wise and great, whom he who thus mourned 
 them was himself destined to join within the few remaining days 
 of the same year. 
 
 Mr. Sands, just before his death, had engaged to furnish an 
 article on Esquimaux Literature, for the first number of the Knick* 
 erbacker Magazine, then just established by a young literary friend. 
 He had consulted, for this purpose, all the common books con 
 taining any thing which related to that singular race of people ; 
 and on the sixteenth of December had procured a history of 
 Greenland, by David Crantz, a German missionary, who, in the 
 year 1761, was sent to Greenland by the United Brethren, and 
 resided there a twelvemonth, for the express purpose of com 
 piling a description of the country, and whose work is full 
 of curious and minute information respecting those frozen lati 
 tudes and their inhabitants. He immediately gave himself, with 
 his usual intense application, to the perusal of this book, in 
 order to fill his mind with ideas of the Esquimaux modes of 
 life, their traditions and mythology. He had already finished 
 an introduction to the article, -which was a review of an imaginary 
 book of translations from the Esquimaux language, and had writ 
 ten two fragments, which he intended for supposed specimens of 
 Greenland poetry. After another interval of close reading, he 
 
 again, on the 17th of December, about four o'clock in the after- 
 
 D 
 
26 MEMOIR OF 
 
 noon, sat down to the work of composition. He merely wrote 
 with a pencil the -following line, suggested probably by some 
 topic in the Greenland mythology, 
 
 O think not my spirit among you abides, 
 
 ;?Jt*l^ il*t#&* 
 
 when he was suddenly struck with the disease which removed 
 his own spirit from its material dwelling. Below this line, on the 
 original manuscript, were observed, after his death, several irreg 
 ular pencil marks, extending nearly across the page, as if traced 
 by a hand that moved in darkness, or no longer obeyed the impulse 
 of the will. He rose, opened the door, and attempted to pass out 
 of the room, but fell on the threshold. On being assisted to his 
 chamber, and placed on the bed, he was observed to raise his 
 powerless right arm with the other, and looking at it, to shed tears. 
 It was soon discovered that the disorder was an apoplectic stroke ; 
 he shortly after relapsed into a lethargy, from which he never 
 awoke, and in less than four hours from the attack expired with 
 out a struggle. 
 
 Mr. Sands was never married. He lived with his father's 
 family, always either in or near the city of New- York, and during 
 the last eight or nine years of his life, at Hoboken, on the Jersey 
 shore of the Hudson, opposite the city, to which his daily avoca 
 tions regularly called him. He was exceedingly attached to his 
 home and its domestic enjoyments, as well as the quiet of his 
 study. Yet his were, by no means, the life and habits of the 
 mere man of books. He had at different periods of his life mixed 
 widely in society, and in all ranks, where he observed character 
 and manners with a " spirit learned in human dealings," noting and 
 treasuring up the odd, the singular, and the fantastical, in inci 
 dent and character, as well as the natural workings of feelings, 
 passions, and sympathies, under all the varied forms of artificial 
 society, from the circles of wealth and fashion, down to the for 
 lorn culprits of the inferior criminal courts. 
 
 Social in his temperament, he enjoyed the acquaintance and high 
 esteem of the eliteof the scholars, and men of talents of all classes, 
 and especially the artists of New- York and its vicinity. With these 
 his conversation was full of sprightliness and information ; and 
 the whimsical and lively wit, the odd and sometimes grotesque 
 humours, that came into hie mind unsought, heightened as they 
 
KOBEKT C. SANDS. 27 
 
 were by quaint combinations of language, quite peculiar to him- 
 iself, made him as entertaining as his learning and originality of 
 thought did an instructive companion. His warmth and kindness 
 of disposition attracted and strongly attached to him many inti 
 mate friends, whom he loved with an unwavering constancy and 
 affection. He was peculiarly kind to those in an inferior station, 
 and seemed to study to make up by gentleness and generosity for 
 the hardships and inequalities of fortune. His affections and 
 charities extended yet further ; for, to borrow his own words 
 " Time has more baleful colleagues than disease and death. 
 There are some whom we have once loved, and who yet live, 
 marked by shame for her own, upon whom the dread sentence of 
 disgrace has been passed, and the world's charity excludes them 
 from ' fire and water.' The herd pass by, and the stricken deer 
 must go weep in its covert, good for nothing but the moralities of 
 some melancholy Jaques, but dead to the world and its sympa 
 thies." He spoke from his own experience, for Sands's diversi 
 fied associations and pursuits had numbered such unfortunates 
 among his acquaintance ; and for these, in their wants or their dis 
 grace, his heart and his purse were always open, his counsel and 
 his active assistance as much at their command as in their 
 brightest days of youth and hope. 
 
 Next to conversation and the observation of human character, 
 his favourite recreation was in rural rambles and amusements. 
 He was exceedingly near-sighted from his childhood, and it was 
 not until his sixteenth year, when he obtained glasses fitted for 
 his sight, that he ever saw the stars, a view which he used to 
 describe as having filled him with the sublimest emotions. The 
 knowledge of this imperfection of vision often gave the writer of 
 this memoir occasion of surprise, when in their rambles or 
 excursions together, he has remarked the intense delight that 
 Sands received from the beauties of nature, and the graphic ac 
 curacy with which he observed and described alike their grander 
 and more distant outlines, and their minute and more delicate 
 features. His power of attention and habits of observation sup 
 plied the defects of the material organ. 
 
 The reader has already been made acquainted in part with his 
 singular and varied acquirements. In ancient and modern litera 
 ture, and languages, he had few equals, probably in our country 
 

 28 MEMOIR OF 
 
 no superior. He read familiarly the Greek, Latin, French, 
 Spanish, Italian, and Portuguese authors. All the treasures of 
 English literature, in the broadest sense of the word, were stored 
 in his memory, from Chaucer to Charles Lamb, from Cud worth 
 to O'Keefe. He had a general and more than elementary ac 
 quaintance with the mathematical and physical sciences, but for 
 these branches of knowledge he felt little curiosity or interest. 
 He held and maintained with Johnson, that the knowledge of 
 external nature is not the great or the frequent business of the 
 human mind, that we have perpetual occasion for those princi 
 ples of moral truth, and materials of reasoning or illustration, 
 which are supplied by poets, orators, and historians, but are 
 chymists or geometricians only accidentally or occasionally. He 
 had laid a deep foundation of law learning in his youth, and 
 though he abandoned the profession, he never quite gave up his 
 legal reading. He was, therefore, probably as sound a lawyer as 
 can be made without the actual and continued practice of the pro 
 fession. His reverence for the law, and love of its peculiar learn 
 ing and reasoning, led him to an extreme of prejudice against 
 all reform or melioration of the system. He admired and 
 defended even those narrow and inconvenient entrances which 
 the ingenious and apologetic Blackstone himself allows to be 
 found among the spacious apartments of the ancient castle of 
 English common law. He had, also, something of the same sort 
 of dislike against the metaphysics of political economy, a study 
 he never relished and never did justice to. He frequently main*- 
 tained that it was not entitled to the honour of being called a 
 science, and that " all the trash about values, and wealth, and 
 reproductive industry was not of the slightest practical use.'* 
 There was scarce any other part of knowledge which had not 
 at some time excited his curiosity, and more or less engaged 
 his attention. Hence his mind was stored with an immense 
 mass of miscellaneous information ; such as, if it is not learn 
 ing, is often found much more useful. He had read extensively, 
 though irregularly, in divinity and ecclesiastical history; and had 
 settled his opinions on most of the contested points of theological 
 discussion. His opinions seemed in general to be those of Taylor, 
 Barrow, and the old divines of that school in the Church of Eng 
 land, which, however, he held with great moderation. 
 
ROBERT C. SANDS. 29 
 
 He reverenced religion, and all good and moral influences, 
 wherever he found them to exist. 
 
 His large stores of learning and of practical information on men 
 and things, could not have been accumulated without great activity 
 and versatility of mind, and these he evinced in all his pursuits ; 
 for he possessed the power of vigorously directing the faculties of 
 his mind to any chosen object of study, inquiry, or speculation. 
 His fancy was surprisingly fruitful of original and striking com 
 binations of ideas ; and if his peculiar vein of humour had any 
 fault, it was that of excessive and unrestrained exuberance. 
 But he had none of that bitterness of spirit, or keenness of 
 sarcasm which frequently give edge to satire. His indulgence 
 in the laughable sprung from the love of the laugh itself. He 
 had no touch whatever of the sneering misanthropy, or the 
 contemptuous hatred for folly which have so often lent their 
 savage inspiration to comic and satiric talent. His humour, 
 as it overflowed in his conversation and letters, even more than 
 in his written compositions, ran somewhat in the whimsically 
 broad vein of Rabelais, (though quite free from his grossness) 
 delighting like him to mix the topics and language of learning 
 with the humours and phrases of humble or even of vulgar life. 
 
 It strikes me as a remarkable circumstance (whether common 
 to him with any other learned wits, I cannot say) that with this 
 buoyancy of imagination, this constitutional tendency to the jocose 
 or the whimsical, all his favourite studies and literary recreations 
 were of a very grave cast. He had early read most of the witty 
 and comic authors of note, but rarely recurred to them in after 
 life. When fatigued with business or literary labour, he did not, 
 as one might have expected, refresh himself with Swift or Smol- 
 let ; admire the chivalrous fancies arid noble horsemanship of La 
 Mancha's knight, or " laugh and shake in Rabelais' easy chair ;" 
 but he returned with ever fresh delight to hold communion with 
 ancient sages and scholars, or else, 
 
 entranced to hear, 
 
 O'er battle fields the epic thunders roll ; 
 Or list where tragic wail upon the ear, 
 Through Argive palaces shrill echoing stole.* 
 
 * Yamoyden, 
 
30 MEMOIR OP ROBERT C. SANDS. 
 
 So, too, all his deliberately selected subjects of composition were 
 of a serious nature, generally demanding grave reading and re 
 search. His pleasantry was all spontaneous, unpremeditated, 
 unbidden. Nor were his laughable associations ever applied to 
 subjects worthy of higher thoughts, for quick as he was in his 
 perception of the ridiculous, he was equally sensitive to all that is 
 beautiful in nature, or grand and elevating in sentiment. 
 
 The collection of his miscellaneous writings, now published, 
 will enable the reader to judge of his ability in imbodying and 
 expressing such thoughts, although both in kind and in quantity 
 they give but an imperfect idea either of his genius and accom 
 plishments, or his readiness, fertility, and industry ; not in quantity, 
 as they form but a portion of his writings ; the selection being con 
 fined to his original literary compositions and his poetical transla 
 tions ; and of course excluding his writings on political subjects 
 and passing events, and his numerous reviews and other publica 
 tions of a temporary character. Nor in kind can they be con 
 sidered otherwise thun as indications of what he might have done 
 had his life been prolonged. Most of the great works of litera 
 ture were written at a later period of life than that at which 
 Sands died. All of his, too, were composed with singular rapidity, 
 and most of them published without the opportunity of correction 
 or revision. 
 
 Still, such as they are, they show their author to have possessed 
 the rare combination of humour and eloquence, of learning and 
 originality, and prove that he made no false estimate of his own 
 genius when in " the young delighted strains" of his Yamoyden, 
 he expressed the confidence of his power rightly to invoke the 
 jnuse, and to descry some of her nobler visions.* 
 
 * Proem to Yamoyden. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 OF 
 
 THE FIRST VOLUME. 
 
 Page 
 
 Historical Notice of Hernan Cortes, Conqueror of Mexico 1 
 
 Domestic Literature 101 
 
 Isaac; a Type of the Redeemer 117 
 
 The Caio-Gracco of Monti 137 
 
 The Garden of Venus 155 
 
 Yamoyden; a Tale of the Wars of King Philip . . . .161 
 
 * M 
 
 ^ 
 
r*?.r 
 
HISTORICAL NOTICE 
 
 OF 
 
 HERNAN CORTES, 
 
 CONQUEROR OF MEXICO. 
 
 VOI.. I. A 
 

 [THE " Historical Notice of Cortes" was written at the in 
 stance of the publishers of an edition of his Letters in their 
 original language, which appeared in the city of New-York in 
 1828. It was translated into Spanish by Manuel Dominguez, 
 author of an excellent version of " The Vicar of Wakefield," and 
 prefixed to the Letters, of which a large edition was printed and 
 extensively circulated in Mexico, South America, and the Spanish 
 West Indies. In compiling the " Historical Notice," the old 
 Spanish historians, a considerable collection of whose works Mr. 
 Sands fortunately met with in the library of the New- York His 
 torical Society, were carefully consulted. The slight notice 
 taken of some events in the Life of Cortes is accounted for by 
 the fact that the Memoir was intended as an Introduction to his 
 Letters, in which those events were fully related.]. 
 
HISTORICAL NOTICE 
 
 OF 
 
 HERN AN CORTES, 
 
 CONQUEROR OF MEXICO. 
 
 THE publishers of the Letters of Cortes, contained in this 
 volume, supposed that a brief account of the individual 
 who is, in fact, the hero of the historical tragedy which they 
 record, and who has unquestionably represented himself 
 therein as the author and director of all its events, would 
 form an acceptable, and to many readers, a useful introduc 
 tion, to his own narrative of the Conquest of Mexico. 
 
 In this supposition they are certainly correct ; for, be 
 sides the necessity of connecting thesel etters together so as 
 to make them intelligible, by supplying references to the 
 preceding and intermediate links in the chain of events, it is 
 proper that the reader should have some means of estimat 
 ing the real character of the man who led this handful of 
 Spaniards triumphantly into the capital of a powerful and 
 populous empire, and reduced it into complete subjection to 
 a far distant kingdom, and who, in these his despatches, 
 claims to himself the merit of originating every important 
 scheme which led to such astonishing results. It would be 
 also proper, that he who reads - these letters should have 
 an opportunity of ascertaining their truth, by comparing, 
 throughout, the testimony of contemporary narrators ; and 
 of judging how far the Conquestador was himself misled 
 and mistaken, in certain particulars ; supposing him to have 
 written only what he believed to be correct, whether mat 
 ter of fact, or of opinion. 
 
4 HISTORICAL NOTICE OF 
 
 But while the limits of an introductory notice are alto 
 gether too narrow for such a perpetual commentary, neither 
 the time nor materials for reference allowed to the writer 
 of this introduction, are sufficient to enable him to attempt 
 the task at present. All he can furnish is such a general 
 outline of the life and character of Cortes, as may be gleaned 
 from a rapid inspection of the pages of general history. 
 To the antiquarian, and to him who has investigated the 
 subject, with access to the authorities, and in a philosophical 
 spirit, such a meager sketch must be nearly valueless ; un 
 less indeed, as sometimes happens, some idea may accident 
 ally be suggested, which may throw light on his inquiry, 
 in exploring the mass of his materials. To those, however, 
 who have never read, or have forgotten the prominent 
 events in the life of the conqueror of Mexico, this summary 
 notice may perhaps prove neither useless nor uninteresting. 
 
 Herpan Cortes was born at Medellin, a small town in 
 Estremadura, in the year 1485, He was the son of Martin 
 Cortes de Minroy, and Doria Catalina Pizarro Altimezano, 
 He was thus descended from four of the most illustrious 
 and ancient families of his native city. Their fortunes 
 had, however, decayed ; and the parents of Cortes were by 
 no means in opulent circumstances. It was necessary that 
 he should be educated for some profession ; and that of the 
 law was selected by his relations. At the age of fourteen, 
 he was sent to the university of Salamanca, in which he 
 remained two years. Of his brief academic career we are 
 unable to mention any incidents ; but he undoubtedly found 
 the monotony of a scholastic life too tedious for his active 
 and ambitious disposition. We find him returning to his 
 father's house, and declaring his intention to follow the pror 
 fpssion of arms. 
 
 He was to have joined a reinforcement of troops, which 
 sailed from Naples to assist the great captain Gonsalvo de 
 Cordoba, in Italy, then the theatre of war and of cluvalry ; 
 
IIERNAN CORTES. 5 
 
 but he was detained by a serious indisposition. The super 
 stitious and the fatalist would dwell upon this incident, in 
 connexion with others of a like nature, which afterward 
 occurred ; as indicating a direct and palpable interference 
 of Providence, in preserving him for the end to which he 
 was ordained. It may also be amusing to those who, ac 
 cording to the phraseology of the day, are the admirers of 
 singular coincidences, to note this detention, in connexion 
 with the others, by which the immediate intentions of Cortes 
 were defeated : since, if they had not been so obstructed, it 
 is probable that he would never have bound Montezuma in 
 chains, or caused Guatemozin to be hung. 
 
 There was another great field just opened to the ambi 
 tion, curiosity, and cupidity of the adventurers of those 
 days, the newly discovered w6rld beyond the Atlantic. No 
 notion, even general, had yet been entertained of its extent, 
 or of its proportion and relation to the rest of the known 
 world. It was as yet associated with visions of oriental 
 splendour, conjured up by the exaggerations of Italian, Por 
 tuguese, and English voyagers to Asia, on which were 
 superinduced the delusions and hyperboles of the followers 
 of Columbus. Independently of romance, however, the 
 actual value of the discovery, as contributing to the glory 
 and the power of the Spanish crown, was (as subsequent 
 events have proved, with relation to the whole continent of 
 America, by whatsoever nation its different parts have been 
 colonized) entirely overrated. 
 
 To this new world the views of the young Cortes were 
 next directed ; and he was to have accompanied his kins 
 man Ovando, when the latter embarked for Hispaniola, or 
 Hayti, of which island he was appointed governor in 1502. 
 An affair of gallantry, however, again procrastinated the 
 departure of Cortes from Spain. In the act of scaling the 
 window of a lady's apartment, he fell from the summit of an 
 ancient wall ; and received so much injury that he was un 
 able to join the expedition. He was of an amorous tempe- 
 
6 HISTORICAL NOTICE OF 
 
 rament, and the impetuosity of his character in this, as in 
 other respects, hurried him often into difficulties which his 
 presence of mind and good fortune enabled him to surmount. 
 
 We have no means of relating any other particulars of 
 his life, during the period which elapsed between his quit 
 ting the university, and his embarkation for Hispaniola in 
 1504, in the twentieth year of his age. A brief notice of 
 the then existing extent of the Spanish discoveries in Ame 
 rica seems here to be necessary. 
 
 Columbus, in 1492, after visiting several of the Bahama 
 Islands, discovered Cuba, where he made no settlement ; 
 but having coasted among the adjacent islands, arrived at 
 Hayti in December of the same year. Circumstances 
 compelled him to leave about forty of his crew on the 
 northern coast of this island", at a place which he called La 
 Navidad ; all of whom perished, by their own fatuity, be 
 fore the return of any of their countrymen. 
 
 Columbus returned to Spain ; and a papal grant gave to 
 the crown of Castile a right to the newly discovered territo 
 ries, without latitude or longitude, metes or bounds; or 
 rather, with as accurate a description and idea of them, as 
 the ancient geographers had when they described the Hy 
 perborean regions. But it was a right, which, as sanc 
 tioned by religion, is better than any other nation has been 
 able to establish, to its possessions in America. For if they 
 found it on the sanctity of contracts, their own laws deny 
 to the aborigines the capacity of making a contract on equal 
 terms with their own civilized citizens : if on that of con 
 quest, they will be found to have invaded the countries they 
 subdued without provocation, and to have trampled on all 
 national rights, national laws, and human sympathy. . It was 
 in the necessary course of things, that the strong should 
 prevail against the weak. The power of superior know 
 ledge, mental and mechanical, produced its natural and un 
 avoidable results. These remarks are not now impertinent ; 
 as, with them, we despatch, on the threshold, several per- 
 

 IIERNAN CORTES. 
 
 plexing questions, connected with our subject. Libraries 
 have been most unprofitably written, to justify what, on 
 abstract principles, is unjustifiable, the usurpations which 
 have ensued, in the natural order of events, ever since the 
 patriarchal age. But in estimating the character of an indi 
 vidual of any age, we are to, judge of him, not by our own 
 lights, but by the spirit of that age, and by the consonance 
 of his actions with his own professions of faith, in its received 
 dogmas or opinions. 
 
 In his second voyage, after touching at several of the An 
 tilles, Columbus revisited His paniola, and found the fort which 
 he had erected entirely demolished, while the men whom he 
 had left in it had all fallen victims to their own rashness and 
 cupidity. About ten leagues to the east of the site of the 
 fortress was founded the first Christian city in the New 
 World ; to which the admiral gave the name of Isabella. 
 In 1495 the general war broke out between the settlers and 
 the islanders ; the former of whom were so reduced in 
 numbers by diseases and dissolute living, that they were 
 only, able to take the field with two hundred and twenty 
 men. A terrible slaughter of the natives ensued ; they 
 were reduced to subjection, and a tax, too heavy for them 
 to pay, was the origin of the subsequent system of repar-^ 
 timientos, by which this once populous and fertile island 
 was, even before the .death of the great admiral, nearly 
 depopulated. Previous to the conflict just referred to, 
 Columbus had coasted along the islands of Jamaica and 
 Cuba, but no settlement was yet made in either of them. 
 Fortresses were now erected in different parts of His- 
 paniola, to enforce the subjection of the natives. The colony 
 was recruited in numbers by the -arrival of Aguado, who 
 was sent with equivocal powers and instructions to ex 
 amine into the causes of existing dissensions. His conduct, 
 and the mischievous representations made by the enemies 
 of Columbus at the Spanish court, induced the latter to* 
 return to Spain in 1496, leaving his brother Bartholomew 
 adelantado in his absence. On his third voyage, in 1498,- 
 
10 HISTORICAL NOTICE OF 
 
 between these crafty leaders ; and Ojeda, after committing 
 several depredations, returned to Spain with a drove of the 
 miserable natives, captured either in Hispaniola or Porto 
 Rico, who"m he sold as slaves in the market of Cadiz. 
 
 The malecontents, originally headed by Roldan, now 
 resisting the authority he exercised, in pursuance of his 
 hollow pacification with the admiral, engaged together with 
 some of the natives in another revolt, "which was put down 
 with many executions, and caused the chains of the abori 
 gines to be drawn yet tighter. - While the affairs of the 
 island were thus thrown into confusion, the enemies of 
 Columbus at court were persevering, and but too successful, 
 in their machinations against him. At their head was 
 Fonseca, Bishop of Badajoz, and minister of Indian affairs ; 
 notorious as the consistent persecutor of all the truly great 
 discoverers of the age, and subsequently the enemy of 
 Cortes. 
 
 The idle, the disappointed, and the profligate, who 
 returned to Spain from Hispaniola, were loud in their abuse 
 of the admiral and his brothers ; and the senseless clamour 
 of these vagabonds, most of whom ought long before to have 
 expiated their offences against the existing laws and society 
 in the galleys or on the gibbet, proved far more potential 
 than the representations made at long intervals by letters 
 from Columbus ; than the timid vindication attempted by 
 his friends ; or the feeling of gratitude for his services, 
 through which the glory and value of the discovery had 
 attached to the crown. But the most serious difficulty was, 
 that the expected gold had not been found. Only enough 
 had been transmitted home to whet the appetite of those who 
 had made advances to promote the discovery ; while the 
 necessities of the colony created a perpetual drain on the 
 treasury of Ferdinand. 
 
 Such was, in brief, the state of the affairs of the New 
 World and its illustrious discoverer at the commencement 
 of the sixteenth century. We should not omit to add, 
 
HERNAN CORTES. 11 
 
 however, that Queen Isabella, the uniform friend of 
 humanity, was displeased with the course pursued by 
 Columbus, in sending out at several times cargoes of the 
 natives to be sold as slaves. The admiral was induced to 
 take this measure from mixed reasons of policy and piety 
 (we speak of the piety of the age), of which it is not our 
 present business to discuss the sufficiency. The result of 
 all these circumstances was, that Francis de Bobadilla was 
 sent to Hispaniola, with dangerous powers confided to him, 
 which he abused ; and Columbus with his brothers returned 
 in chains to the court of Ferdinand and Isabella. This 
 indignity was never practically atoned for during the life 
 of the admiral, although kind words were said to him on the 
 removal of his fetters, and Bobadilla was degraded. In 
 his stead, Nicholas de Ovando, a knight of the military 
 order 1 of Alcantara, commander of Lares, was appointed 
 governor of Hispaniola. 
 
 In the first year of this century, the coast of Brazil was 
 accidentally discovered by Pedro Alvarez Cabral, a Portu 
 guese, who steered westward to avoid the dangers of the 
 winds and calms prevalent along the coast of Africa. In 
 the year following, the coast of Paria and that of Terra Fir- 
 ma were explored by Spanish adventurers, among whom 
 was Ojeda, in company with Amerigo Vespucci. In con 
 sequence of the reports of these explorers, vast expectations 
 were raised in the mind of Ferdinand, of the wealth of the 
 new countries to be attached to his dominions. 
 
 When Ovando arrived in Hispaniola in 1501, the policy 
 pursued by Bobadilla, -which was to make himself as popu 
 lar as possible among the Spaniards during his temporary 
 administration, had produced a much larger revenue to the 
 crown, but had, at the same time, thinned the numbers of the 
 persecuted natives, and reduced the miserable remnant to 
 despair. The provisions contained in Ovando's commis 
 sion (whose government was to extend over the islands of 
 Terra Firma), though humanely intended by Isabella to 
 
12 HISTORICAL NOTICE OF 
 
 meliorate the condition of the Indians, did not virtually 
 have that effect. A permission to compel them to work in 
 the mines, for the royal service, and to engage them as hired 
 labourers, gave a latitude for abuse and oppression which 
 defeated the benevolent views of the queen. Ovando car 
 ried with him twenty-five hundred individuals, many of 
 them of high respectability. This was the largest body 
 that had yet emigrated to the New World. Bobadilla, 
 Roldan, and the ringleaders of his mutineers were com 
 manded to leave the island. By a singular retribution, they, 
 together with the prominent enemies of Columbus and op 
 pressors of the Indians, perished in a storm, with an im 
 mense amount of ill-gotten treasure, in the spring of 1502 ; 
 when a part of the fleet which had accompanied Ovando 
 set out on its return for Spain, in contempt of the predic 
 tions of the great admiral, who had then arrived in distress 
 off St. Domingo, in the prosecution of his fourth voyage, 
 and was inhospitably denied admission into the harbour of 
 the governor. Among those who were lost in this hurri 
 cane was the unfortunate cacique Guariones, who had been 
 detained as a prisoner since his capture by Bartholomew 
 Columbus. 
 
 Columbus and the adelantado proceeded on their voyage, 
 in search of the supposed passage to the Indies which the 
 former conjectured to exist near the isthmus of Darien. In 
 a small island near the southern coast of Cuba, they met 
 with some Indians, probably from Yucatan, whose informa 
 tion, if it had been correctly understood, or properly appre 
 ciated by the admiral, might have led him to the discovery 
 of Mexico, and of the Southern Ocean ; a glory reserved 
 for others. Variable winds and currents detained him for 
 forty days, in the greatest distress, along the northern coast 
 of Honduras, until doubling Cape Gracios k Dios, he ran 
 along the Mosquito-shore to the province of Veragua. The 
 inviting aspect of the country, and the specimens of gold 
 which he found, induced him to attempt a settlement upon 
 
IIERNAN CORTES. 
 
 13 
 
 the river called Belen. It was commenced accordingly, 
 and eighty men selected to remain, under the command of 
 Bartholomew. The jealousy of the neighbouring caciques 
 however baffled the design, and a melancholy and bloody 
 conflict with the natives ensued. Such of the garrison as 
 were not destroyed were got off from the inhospitable coast 
 with great difficulty. After abandoning one of his shattered 
 barks at Porto Bello (a place which still retains the name 
 he gave'it), the admiral proceeded with the only remaining 
 two, in a crazy condition, and crowded with discontented 
 crews, as far as the gulf of Darien. Thence steering north 
 ward, after an unparalleled series of disasters, he finally ran 
 his wrecks aground, in a harbour in the island of Jamaica, 
 now called Don Christopher's Cove. From thence, two of 
 his boldest and most enterprising followers undertook to 
 convey an account of the situation of the crews to 'the gov 
 ernor of Hispaniola. They accomplished their voyage in 
 two misshapen canoes, and spent eight months fruitlessly in 
 soliciting Ovando for assistance. During this period those 
 they had left behind suffered every extreme of danger and 
 misery. A large party of them mutinied, and wandered 
 into the interior of the island, committing depredations and 
 enormities which roused the natives to vengeance. The 
 admiral, with those who were faithful to him, were block 
 aded in the fortress they formed from their broken vessels, 
 and ail supplies cut off from them. His unbroken fortitude 
 sustained him in these exigencies, and enabled him to exer 
 cise a control over his followers ; when a small vessel, des 
 patched by the suspicious Ovando, arrived to crown his 
 vexation, not to relieve the sufferers, but to spy out their 
 condition. He conciliated the natives, and the adelantado 
 -chastised the mutineers; who submitted, after losing some 
 of their leaders and many of their body. At length the long 
 looked-for ships arrived, and Columbus with his men were 
 conveyed to St. Domingo in August, 1504. He returned 
 to Spain under every circumstance of mortification and 
 
14 HISTORICAL NOTICE OF 
 
 disappointment ; and in less than two years thereafter ter 
 minated his career. His patroness Isabella died in Novem 
 ber, 1504. 
 
 Meantime, though the colony of Hispaniola was assum 
 ing a more regular form, a thousand of those who had ac 
 companied Ovando had perished from the diseases of the 
 climate and their dissolute habits. Hunger, oppression, 
 and the sword had swept off several hundred thousand of the 
 natives since the first discovery. The last independent dis 
 trict, that of Higuey, had been laid waste, in consequence of 
 an insurrection of the cacique and his people. The inhab 
 itants were hunted down like wild beasts ; and the last of 
 the five sovereign princes of Hayti was hanged at St. Do 
 mingo by order of Ovando. The original settlement at 
 Isabella was at this time nearly abandoned, and soon after 
 totally deserted. Superstition made its ruins objects of ter 
 ror ; and frightful stories were circulated in after times, of 
 rows of ghostly hidalgos met in its streets by those who 
 had the temerity to visit them. 
 
 This brief recapitulation may give a general idea of the 
 state of the Spanish possessions in America at the time of 
 the arrival of Hernan Cortes in Hispaniola, in 1504, with 
 recommendations to the governor, to whom he was related. 
 Cortes met with a most flattering reception from Ovando, 
 and soon ingratiated himself into the favour of the governor 
 and of the colonists generally. He was intimate in the fam 
 ily of the former, under his immediate patronage, and en 
 trusted by him in several posts both of honour and profit. 
 He remained in the island of Hispaniola until the year 1510. 
 What we are able to learn of his private life during this 
 period amounts to little more than has been mentioned. 
 We can only glance at the prominent events which took 
 place, as connected with the progress of discovery during 
 that time. 
 
 The restrictions as to the employment of the Indians im 
 posed principally through the benevolent interposition of 
 
HERNAN CORTES. 15 
 
 Isabella, and which Ovando was induced to enforce, not from 
 humanity (for he was treacherous to his own countrymen, 
 and insensible to the sufferings of his heathen subjects), but 
 from fear of being superseded in his authority, had disheart 
 ened the settlers ; on whose constitutional laziness was 
 superinduced the disappointment of their fantastic expecta 
 tions of picking up ingots by stooping for them, and the effects 
 of a climate to which they were unaccustomed. The gov 
 ernor, to save the colony from ruin, was obliged to relax 
 his instructions, and allow a compulsory mode of enforcing 
 the labour of the Indians, with a diminution of the fractional 
 part of the proceeds of the mines payable to the crown. 
 This temporary encouragement of the settlers led to a resist 
 ance on the part of the poor natives, whose yoke had been 
 somewhat tightened, and to a consequent war, if it be 
 entitled to that name, in which some actions were ascribed 
 to Ovando, apparently of a horrible character, but 
 which it is not our province now to examine or to pass 
 upon. The result was, that the Indians were reduced to 
 abject -servitude, and that a compensation for their enforced 
 tasks was no longer theoretically promised. While they 
 perished, however, like dogs, or rather like animals far less 
 esteemed, gold was produced in larger quantities, and new 
 adventurers were drawn to the island. Large fortunes- 
 were accumulated, and many of them as quickly dissipated. 
 New towns were built, and industry directed into other 
 channels, by which agricultural labour rendered a regular 
 return. The governor, from policy, was impartial in his 
 administration. Ferdinand was pleased with the remit 
 tances he received ; and his existing relations with the pow 
 ers of the Old World, now enabled him to turn his attention 
 more particularly to his new acquisitions. He established 
 a board of trade, and an ecclesiastical government for Ame 
 rica ; reserving to the crown of Spain a monopoly of the 
 commerce, and a right of presentation to the benefices of 
 the New World. 
 
16 HISTORICAL NOTICE OF 
 
 But the Indians, as we have said before, were sadly 
 reduced in number. By a necessarily vague estimate, the 
 population of Hispaniola at the time of its discovery has 
 been reckoned at a million. On the authority of Columbus 
 it was stated at 1,200,000. But in 1506, when there was 
 little difficulty in taking a census, the number was only 
 60,000. 
 
 This remnant diminished so rapidly that in 1508 Ovando 
 obtained permission to import the inhabitants of the Luca- 
 yos islands, with 40,000 of whom the wretched servile pop 
 ulation of Hispaniola was recruited. While gold was 
 obtained in that country in sufficient quantities, the spirit of 
 discovery was inactive. With the difficulty of working 
 the mines, from want of labourers, the appetite for new con 
 quests revived. Juan Ponce De Leon, by permission of 
 Ovando, explored the island of Porto Rico, and established 
 a settlement there. The island was reduced to subjection 
 in a few years ; and its native population vanished with 
 rapidity. In 1508 also, Juan Diaz de Solis and Vincent 
 Yanez Pinson, a captain in the first voyage of Columbus, 
 sailed to the island of Guiana, and standing to the west, dis 
 covered Yucatan. Sebastian De Ocampo circumnavigated 
 Cuba, now for the first time ascertained with certainty to 
 be an island. 
 
 In 1509 Ovando was recalled, and Don Diego Columbus, 
 the son of the admiral, having obtained a decision in his 
 favour, in his famous lawsuit with the crown, was invested 
 with the gubernatorial power of Hispaniola. With him 
 came a great accession of inhabitants of high rank and 
 character. 
 
 In a second voyage, prosecuted during the year, by Solis 
 and Pinzon, new discoveries were made of the vast distance 
 to which the continent stretched southwardly. For the first 
 time, serious intentions began to be entertained of making a 
 permanent settlement on the main. Alonzo de Ojeda and 
 Diego de Nicuesa both formed designs of making new con- 
 
HERN AN CORTES. It 
 
 q'ufests on the continent. The former we have already 
 mentioned, as having made two voyages of discovery. He 
 had acquired by them reputation but no profit. Nicuesa 
 was a man of large fortune in Hispaniola. Ferdinand en* 
 couraged both enterprises ; appointed Ojeda governor of 
 the region extending from Cape de Vela to the gulf of Da- 
 rien ; and Nicuesa of that stretching thence to Cape Gra- 
 cios a Dios. Their commission was drawn up with great 
 care and formality ; and empowered them, in case the 
 natives would not embrace the Catholic faith and submit to 
 the authority of the Spanish crown, to attack them with 
 fire and sword, and reduce them to unmitigated slavery. 
 More than a thousand men accompanied these two adven* 
 turers in their small fleets. Among those of the number who 
 were afterward most distinguished, were Vasco Nunez do 
 Balboa and Francis Pizarro. 
 
 Hernan Cortes had engaged warmly in this project fronl 
 its commencement. But on this occasion, as on a former 
 one, it seemed that his hour had not arrived. He was 
 seized with a severe indisposition at St. Domingo before 
 the sailing of the fleet; and thus prevented from joining, and 
 probably perishing, in the most unfortunate expedition ever 
 yet attempted by the Spaniards in the New World. 
 
 The adventurers met with a resistance wholly unex 
 pected, from the warlike and numerous tribes whose country 
 they entered. The natives were ferocious and implacable, 
 as well as bold and hardy. Their arrows were dipped in a 
 mortal poison. In addition to their enmity, which could 
 neither be overcome by conciliation nor the terrors of the 
 Spanish arms, tempests and accidents destroyed most of the 
 vessels of the fleet; the diseases of the climate swept off 
 hundreds, and famine came, with every misery, the concep 
 tion of which fills the mind with horrors. Though twice 
 reinforced, by far the greater number of those who had 
 embarked in this expedition perished. A feeble colony at 
 
 VOL. I, C 
 
18 HISTORICAL NOTICE OB* 
 
 Santa Maria la Antigua, under the command of Balboa? 
 alone remained upon the continent. 
 
 The conquest of the island of Cuba was next projected 
 by Don Diego Columbus ; and unintimidated by the disas 
 trous result of Ojeda's undertaking, many of the chief men 
 of Hispaniola engaged with avidity in the new enterprise, 
 lago Velasquez, a companion of the admiral in his second 
 voyage, a man of courage, prudence, and wealth, was 
 appointed to ^command in the expedition, in which only 
 three hundred men accompanied him ; among these was 
 Cortes. 
 
 The conquest of Cuba was easily effected. The native? 
 were of an indolent and peaceful character ; unprepared 
 for resistance ; and terrified by the fate which had attended 
 all opposition to the Spaniards, as far as their experience 
 went, or their information extended. A bold chieftain named 
 Hatuey confronted the invaders at their first landing, which 
 he endeavoured to prevent ; but his men were routed with 
 some slaughter, and he himself made captive, and committed 
 to the flames as a rebel. No further warlike demonstrations 
 were made by the islanders, and Velasquez founded San 
 tiago, called by his own christian-name, and assumed the 
 undisturbed sway of Cuba, as the lieutenant of Diego 
 Columbus. 
 
 In this conquest, and during a period of eight years which 
 followed, there was no scope for the development of the 
 extraordinary abilities of Cortes. He was however distin 
 guished in many critical and dangerous circumstances for 
 his bravery, promptitude, and self-possession. He had 
 learned to curb the impetuosity of his natural disposition ; 
 though his appetite for pleasure often led him to overstep 
 the bounds of prudence, and was in fact never subdued 
 during his life. His frank and manly bearing, and the fasci 
 nation of his manner, rendered him a general favourite with 
 both sexes. He always, says Solis, spoke well of the absent ; 
 and was lively and discreet in his conversation. While he 
 
HERNAN CORTES. 19 
 
 easily obtained the regard and reverence of his inferiors, by 
 the possession of these personal advantages, his sound judg 
 ment and quickness in applying the resources of his mind, 
 in cases of emergency, secured to him the respect of his 
 equals. He was accomplished in all the martial exercises 
 of that age, and enjoyed a constitution which seemed un 
 conquerable by dissipation, fatigue, exposure in all climates, 
 or mental anxiety. In this respect he had the advantage of 
 the great admiral ; who, though his spirit never bowed or 
 broke, was subject to attacks of lingering and wasting sick 
 ness. That Cortes, though liberal to his companions, was 
 naturally avaricious, and loved the acquisition and accumu 
 lation of money for its own sake, seems to be true to a cer 
 tain extent. This passion is not inconsistent with the pos 
 session of fearless courage, the love of pleasure or the love 
 of glory, nor with a lavish expenditure for the gratification 
 of those desires. The history of the great achievements of 
 Cortes shows that in his own case it never interfered with 
 policy, or stopped the march of his vast conquests. In person 
 he is described as being of good stature, well proportioned, 
 robust and active. His countenance was agreeable, and the 
 expression of his eyes vivacious and amorous. His chest 
 was prominent, and his beard strong and black. 
 
 The high spirit of Cortes, and his indiscretion in matters 
 of gallantry, involved him in several private difficulties in 
 Cuba, notwithstanding his general popularity. He had 
 several dissensions with the governor Velasquez, some of 
 which were of a violent character. An intrigue with a 
 lady of noble blood, Dona Catalina Suarez de Pacheco, 
 involved him in considerable embarrassment. Velasquez 
 interfered, and kept him prisoner until a marriage was 
 celebrated between the parties, after which the governor 
 became the friend and patron of Cortes, who obtained, in 
 consequence of this reconciliation, a valuable grant of land 
 and Indians ; together with the place of alcalde, in the town 
 of Santiago a high dignity at that day, conferred only on 
 persons of the most estimation. Notwithstanding this 
 
20 HISTORICAL NOTICE OP 
 
 friendship, there can be little doubt that the remembrance 
 of former quarrels stimulated the enmity of Velasquez at a 
 subsequent period. 
 
 Whatever details or private anecdotes of the life of Cortes, 
 during this time, may be collected at this day, if it were 
 possible to introduce them in this brief notice, the writer 
 has no means of ascertaining. It is essential, however, to 
 refer to the events which happened in the progress of dis 
 covery, up to the time when Cortes was called upon to 
 assume that independent command for which his natural 
 abilities and his experience had fitted him. 
 
 In 1512, Juan Ponce de Leon, who had subdued and 
 settled Porto Rico, made another voyage of discovery ; 
 in which, after touching at several of the Lucayo and 
 Bahama Isles, he stood to the south-west, and coasted along 
 the beautiful region to which he gave the name of Florida. 
 He made no settlement, and returned to Porto Rico 
 through the gulf now known as that of Florida. One of 
 the objects of his voyage w r as to discover a fountain in 
 one of the Lucayo islands, the waters of which, accord 
 ing to a romantic tradition of the natives of Porto Rico, had 
 the virtue of renewing youth and vigour. This fable was 
 well suited to captivate the imagination in that age, when 
 alchymy, astrology, magic, and diabolism were believed in ; 
 because they were denounced hy the church, and by which 
 their supposed or self-deluded votaries were punished with 
 fire and fagots. Let us thank God that we live in an age 
 in which such superstitions are exploded ; but with humility, 
 since subsequent generations will probably laugh at us, 
 whether Catholic or Protestant, for similar instances of 
 credulity. 
 
 Balboa, who remained governor of the small colony at 
 Santa Maria, on the Isthmus of Darien, had collected speci 
 mens of gold by negotiation and by force from the neigh 
 bouring caciques. From one of them he learned that at 
 the distance of six days' journey to the south he would 
 discover another great ocean, near which was a region 
 
HERNAN GORTES. 21 
 
 abounding in that metal. Balboa immediately conjectured 
 that this was the sea which the admiral had sought for in vain, 
 as opening a communication with the Indies. He exerted 
 himself to the utmost in procuring recruits for his expedi 
 tion from Hispaniola, and in September, 1513, with a hun 
 dred and ninety men and a thousand Indians, set out on his 
 journey of discovery. After nearly a month spent in a 
 toilsome march through the mountainous barrier of the 
 isthmus,-in which a severe rencounter took place with a 
 ferocious native chief, Balboa first saw the great Southern 
 Ocean from a mountain near Panama. Here he collected 
 gold and pearls, and obtained information of a vague charac 
 ter as to the situation and wealth of the region to the south. 
 He was unable, with the forces and supplies which he then 
 had with him, to attempt the discovery. After four months' 
 absence he returned to Santa Maria with more treasure 
 than had been acquired in any former single expedition by 
 the Spaniards, and with high hopes of reaping at some 
 period the full profits of a discovery, of which he had the 
 glory. Francisco Pizarro, the future conqueror of the 
 country in question, attended and mainly assisted him in 
 this enterprise. 
 
 Balboa's hopes were destined to be overthrown, chiefly, 
 as historians agree in believing, through the same influence 
 which was successfully exerted against all the distinguished 
 discoverers of the age. Bishop Fonseca procured the 
 appointment of Pedrarias Davila, as governor of Darien; 
 the election of Balboa to that office by his companions 
 having never been confirmed by the king. Pedrarias 
 arrived with twelve hundred soldiers ; superseded Balboa 
 in his functions ; instituted a formal inquiry into his pro 
 ceedings and conduct while acting under Nicuesa and sub 
 sequently ; and imposed upon him a heavy fine, the pay 
 ment of which exhausted his fortune. Disease carried off 
 many of the followers of Pedrarias. Six hundred men 
 perished in one month. Those who retained their vigour 
 were engaged in extorting gold and levying contributions, 
 
22 HISTORICAL NOTICE OP 
 
 until the whole isthmus, to the lake of Nicaragua, was 
 made desolate. The result of the different representations 
 made on the subject to Ferdinand was, that Balboa was 
 appointed adelantado of the countries upon the South Sea ; 
 without, however, allowing any compensation for the injus 
 tice which had been done him. The quarrels in this small 
 colony at this time were so numerous, that it was computed 
 that every man had, on an average, forty lawsuits on hand. 
 The dissensions between Pedrarias and Balboa were seem 
 ingly ended, in 1516, by the marriage of the latter with a 
 daughter of the former. The different conflicts with the 
 natives, and visits to the South Sea for the purpose of find 
 ing pearls, which occurred in the intermediate time, can 
 only be alluded to in this notice. The arrival of six hun 
 dred Spaniards from Cuba, with other reinforcements, 
 enabled the leaders to push on successive enterprises with 
 vigour, from which they returned to Darien loaded with 
 gold, pearls, and slaves. The Bishop of Darien, however, 
 interfered in behalf of the latter, and forbade their exporta 
 tion, which he denounced as unlawful. His opposition led 
 to much quarrelling on the isthmus. Caspar de Morales 
 and Francisco Pizarro particularly distinguished themselves 
 in the excursions to which we have referred. In 1517, 
 Balboa had succeeded in finishing four small brigantines in 
 the Islands of Pearls. In these, with three hundred men, 
 he proposed to sail towards Peru, and communicated his 
 intention to Pedrarias by letter. His messengers proved 
 treacherous, and insinuated many things to his disadvantage. 
 Pedrarias was filled with jealousy and rage. He sent a 
 despatch to Balboa, requesting his presence at Acla, under 
 pretence that he had some necessary instructions to give 
 him as to his voyage ; and subsequently, to enforce his 
 attendance, sent an order to Francisco Pizarro to arrest 
 him, and an armed force to take him wherever he might be 
 found. Balboa, however, on receipt of the letter of Pedra 
 rias, left the island of Tortuga, and repairing to Acla, met 
 Pizarro on his mission with boldness and confidence. He 
 
HERNAN CORTES. 
 
 found Pedrarias now implacable. The command of the 
 king to the latter, to treat his rival with respect and assist 
 him in his enterprises, his jealousy of Balboa's superior 
 talents, and his fear of being eclipsed by him in power, 
 renown, and influence, combined with the remembrance of 
 past feuds, had wrought up the governor's dislike to fury, 
 Balboa was arrested and tried for disloyalty to the king, 
 and an intention to rebel against the governor. The charges 
 against him were preposterous ; and the Licentiate Espinosa 
 refused to pass sentence without the written order of 
 Pedrarias. This was not delayed; and notwithstanding 
 the intercession of the whole colony, he was beheaded as a 
 traitor. Fonseca protected Pedrarias at court. He was 
 continued in power, and obtained leave to remove the 
 colony to Panama. 
 
 While these events were passing on the isthmus, many 
 others of importance, as connected with the projects of dis 
 covery, occurred in Hispaniola. Don Diego Columbus had 
 met with many difficulties and much opposition in his 
 administration. He was vexed with the appointments 
 which had been made, by which territories and islands had 
 been assigned to others, without respect to his claim as 
 viceroy, under the compact with his father, and by virtue 
 of the decree of the court to which he had referred his 
 rights. He had been unable to meliorate the condition of 
 the remaining Indians in the islands ; and was obliged from 
 necessity to suffer the system of the repartimientos to con 
 tinue unmodified. His prerogative of distributing these 
 slaves was taken from him, and conferred on Rodrigo 
 Albuquerque. A faction was arrayed against him and all 
 his measures, at the head of which was Miguel Pasamonte, 
 the king's treasurer. Owing to their misrepresentations, a 
 court called the Royal Audience was established, in 1510, 
 in St. Domingo ; to which an appeal was allowed in all 
 cases from the sentence of the admiral. Even the subjuga 
 tion of Cuba, agreeable as the news of that event was to 
 
84 HISTORICAL NOTICE Of 
 
 the king, did not lead him to adopt a more liberal policy 
 towards the governor. In 1512, Don Bartholomew Colum 
 bus was sent out, who still retained the nominal office of 
 adelantado. He bore instructions, directing the labour of 
 the natives to be reduced ; and that negro slaves should be 
 procured from Guinea to assist them. Under these cir 
 cumstances, Don Diego asked and obtained permission to 
 repair to court, and left Hispaniola in April, 1515; the 
 adelantado and vice queen (as she was called in the island 
 by courtesy) remaining* He was received with a great 
 show of respect, but soon involved again in litigating his 
 disputed claims to the share of profit belonging to him, from 
 the provinces discovered by his father during his fourth 
 voyage, in which he had coasted, as we have mentioned, 
 along the region to which the name of Castilla del Oro had 
 been given* Don Diego's uncle, the adelantado, died soon 
 after his departure from Hispaniola* 
 
 In the month of October, 1515, Juan Diaz de Solis, before 
 mentioned, sailed from Spain with the command of two ves 
 sels. The expenses of this expedition were defrayed by 
 Ferdinand, who was incited by the contemporary discoveries 
 of the Portuguese, and believed, on the authority of the 
 geographers of the day, that the Molucca and Spice Islands 
 might be found most readily by a western route. The 
 experienced navigator who conducted this enterprise, stood 
 along the coast of South America, with several variations 
 of reckoning from the north of the line, until he arrived at 
 and entered the mouth of the great river La Plata, which 
 he at first supposed to be a strait opening into the Indian 
 Ocean. He ascended the river, and was slain, with several 
 of his crew, by the natives, at a short distance from the spot 
 where he landed. He was, says Herrera, a more famous 
 pilot than captain. His ships returned to Spain, no further 
 discovery having been effected. 
 
 A highly interesting and curious topic for investigation is 
 suggested here by the chronicles of the period. We allude 
 
HERXAN CORTES, 25 
 
 to the ineffectual and mistaken efforts, made by Bartholo 
 mew de Las Casas (a Dominican sent out with Columbus 
 on his second voyage), in behalf of the natives. With this, 
 however, we have nothing to do in this place. While Las 
 Casas was pleading, as he supposed the cause of the abori 
 gines in Spain, in 1516, king Ferdinand died, and his grand 
 son, Charles of Austria, became the heir of his possessions. 
 The policy of Ferdinand has been considered narrow; and 
 so it was. But his reign was marked by some of the most 
 illustrious events recorded in history, which happened under 
 his auspices. In his domestic relations, no fault is ascribed 
 to him ; and if he was not worthy of Isabella as his consort, 
 he paid to her that decent respect which affords primary 
 evidence that he estimated duly her virtues and her worth. 
 As'to his jealousy of those who conquered foreign countries, 
 or governed them in his name, all history proves that the 
 feelings of mother countries for their colonies, are not ma- 
 ternal, but those of a stepmother ; and the event has hitb- 
 erto uniformly shown, that our incipient jealousy was not 
 without foundation. The branch will fall oft' when the tree 
 can no longer support its weight. Gratitude is not hered 
 itary ; and colonies will not long consent to be taxed for the 
 benefit of -what is to them a foreign country. The whole 
 philosophy of this matter is comprised in the simple <u$ 4*- 
 fyuTrto TTtQvxoTi of old Xenophon. Such has been the expe 
 rience of the past ; and such, if we were paid for prophesy 
 ing, we might predict will be that of the future. 
 
 The Cardinal Ximenes, after the death of Ferdinand, and 
 before the arrival of Charles the Fifth, acting as regent, 
 entertained the application of Las Casas, and sent to His- 
 paniola a deputation of three friars, a lawyer, and Las Casas 
 himself, with discretionary powers both as to the condition 
 of the Indians and the administration- of justice. Those 
 powers were used with wisdom ; and the commissioners 
 found it necessary to tolerate the evils which they could not 
 remedy. Las Casas returned to Spain in disgust. He was 
 
 VOL. I. D 
 

 26 HISTORICAL NOTICE OF 
 
 an amiable enthusiast; and yet was anxious for making 
 captives of the natives of Guinea, that the bodies of the 
 remaining miserable remnant of Indians might be preserved 
 alive a little longer, and a few of their souls rescued from 
 spiritual jeopardy. It is not our province to give an 
 account of the projects of Bartholomew Las Casas, which 
 terminated in an unsuccessful attempt to colonize Cumana. 
 We shall now follow, in an unbroken series, the course of 
 events which led to the conquest of Mexico. 
 
 In 1517, a hundred and ten adventurers in Cuba, who 
 had for two or three years been looking out for settlements, 
 elected as their captain a rich hidalgo, named Francisco 
 Hernandez de Cordova, determining to set out on a voyage 
 of discovery. They bought two vessels of considerable 
 burthen, and obtained a third on credit from the governor 
 Velasquez. Most of these men had served under Pedra- 
 rias in Darien. Among them went Bernal Diaz del Castillo, 
 who has left a plain and unvarnished narrative of this and 
 the subsequent expeditions. According to him, the fleet 
 sailed from Agaruco, a small port on the north part of the 
 island, passed St. Antonio, and in twenty-one days reached 
 Cape Cotoche, the eastern point of the peninsula of Yuca 
 tan. Here they were invited on shore by the natives 
 (whom they found far superior in dress and equipments to 
 the other savages they had seen), with a show of friendship. 
 They were led into an ambush and fiercely attacked. Hav 
 ing beaten off the assailants, they left the coast carrying off 
 two prisoners and some gold ornaments. They found build 
 ings of lime and stone, and other indications of the progress 
 in civilization made by these Indians. Cordova sailed from 
 thence to the westward, and arrived at Cam peachy, and 
 subsequently at a town some leagues beyond, called Pon- 
 tonchan, situated at the mouth of a river. It contained 
 buildings of lime and stone, and was surrounded by fields 
 of maize. The adventurers could not account for one cir 
 cumstance which was afterward explained. The natives 
 
IIERNAN CORTES. 27 
 
 . 
 
 of Campeachy and Pontonchan, in the imperfect intercourse 
 they had with them, frequently pointed to the east, and 
 uttered the word " Castillan." Cordova landed all his 
 troops, to procure a supply of fresh water. H^s >appre- 
 hensions of an attack were justified by the event. An 
 immense number of the warriors surrounded the Spaniards, 
 and killed about fifty of them. They continually cried out 
 " Al Calaehiom," or " shoot at the captain ;" and though he 
 escaped with life, he received twelve arrows. The shat 
 tered remnant of the expedition retreated with difficulty to 
 their ships. Their wounds were exceedingly painful ; and 
 only one soldier had escaped unhurt. They were com 
 pelled to leave their water-casks behind ; and suffered the 
 extremity of thirst. They were dissatisfied with their pilot 
 Alaminos, who persisted in his original creed, that this land 
 was not part of a continent. He steered for Florida, the 
 coast of which he had visited before in his voyage with 
 Ponce de Leon. Here they obtained fresh water, at the 
 expense of another rencounter with the natives. Exhausted 
 with fatigue and suffering, they arrived at Puerto de Carenas, 
 now called Havana. Cordova died soon after. 
 
 Notwithstanding the disasters attending this voyage, the 
 accounts brought to Cuba of the houses and wealth of* the 
 countries visited, and the gold ornaments carried off from 
 plundered temples, were irresistible excitements to another 
 attempt at settlement. A new armament of four ships 
 was fitted out, two of which were purchased by Velasquez. 
 The command was given to Juan de Grijalva, a relation of 
 his, who had an estate in Cuba, and was a man of approved 
 conduct and valour. The rendezvous was at Matanzas, 
 whence the fleet sailed in April, 1518, carrying two hundred 
 and forty volunteers. In ten days they passed the point 
 called St. Antonio, whence they were driven by the currents 
 to the island of Cozumel. Alaminos was also the pilot in 
 this expedition. Here the natives fled from them, and would 
 not be persuaded to any intercourse by their overtures. 
 
28 HISTORICAL NOTICE OF 
 
 Pursuing^ the route taken by Cordova, they effected a land 
 ing at Pontonchan (or Champoton), with the loss of three 
 soldiers and half their number wounded. The natives met 
 them with great fury, and in formidable numbers. They 
 finally fled, but had removed all their effects from the town. 
 After a stay of four days there, Grijalva pursued his voyage 
 westwardly, examining the coast, until he arrived at the 
 mouth of the river called Tabasco by the natives, but to 
 which his own name was given. The houses and villages 
 scattered along the coast, were magnified into palaces and 
 cities by the imagination of the adventurers; and the name 
 of New-Spain was given to the country with universal 
 consent. The natives at Tabasco were prepared for resist 
 ance ; but, on overtures of amity being made through the 
 interpreters, entered into a friendly traffic, though they 
 treated with contempt a proposition to submit to the autho 
 rity of the king. They produced as a present some toys 
 of gold, of no great value ; but intimated that it was to 
 be found at the west, in abundance. They frequently 
 repeated the words "Mexico and Culua," which were 
 not then understood by the Spaniards. Grijalva pro 
 ceeded hence to the province since known by the name 
 of Guaxaca ; and here for the first time, from the signs 
 of the natives, whose language the interpreters did not 
 understand, the adventurers heard of a powerful monarch 
 named Montezuma (or Motenczoma), and learned that he 
 was the sovereign of the country. He had received in 
 formation of the result of Cordova's expedition, and seems 
 to have been apprized thus early of the designs of the in 
 vaders. At any rate, he was aware that gold was the great 
 object of their search. An ancient prophesy had declared 
 that men from the west would come to conquer his coun 
 try ; and the accounts he received, and the painted repre 
 sentations made by his agents, and transmitted to his court, 
 had awakened undoubtedly his superstitious but well- 
 grounded fears, that his dynasty was about to pass away. 
 
;*"' HERNAN CORTES. 29 
 
 It may admit of a question, whether he was privy to the 
 resistance heretofore offered to the Spaniards on the coast 
 of New-Spain. The presumption to be drawn from the 
 whole tenor of his subsequent temporising conduct is, that 
 he was riot. His emissaries first made communications 
 from him to the followers of Grijalva at the mouth of a 
 river, which the latter named Vanderas, from the white 
 banners waved by these ambassadors, as a signal of invita 
 tion. On landing, they were received with the honours paid 
 to the gods. Incense was presented to them, with an abun 
 dance of the provisions belonging to that region, such as 
 fowls, bread, pines, and sapotes. In exchange for glass 
 beads and European trinkets, a quantity of gold was also 
 obtained, equivalent in value to fifteen thousand pesos. 
 Grijalva was treated with the greatest respect, and took 
 possession of the country (with ceremonies of course un 
 intelligible to the Indians), as the representative of Velas 
 quez, and in the name of the king. After six days' delay 
 he visited several islands farther along the coast, in some 
 of which bloody evidences were found of the 'cruel rites of 
 the natives' religion, in the relics of human victims, which 
 had been sacrificed in their temples and round the altars of 
 their misshapen divinities. That such an exhibition should 
 fill the adventurers with disgust, and confirm them in the 
 creed of the age, that it was lawful to captivate and sjay 
 these pagans for the good of their souls, can be easily con 
 ceived. Such, at a much later period, was the belief, and 
 such was the practice of the grave puritans who colonized 
 New England, where the custom of offering human sacri 
 fices was unknown ; and this reflection will chastise the 
 natural indignation of every sensible man, in reading the 
 accounts of the myriads subsequently slaughtered, under 
 the pretext of proselyting the survivors. From a misap 
 prehension of the pronunciation of an Indian word, the 
 name of St. John de Ulua was given to one of the islands. 
 Thence Grijalva despatched one of his officers to Velasquez, 
 
30 HISTORICAL NOTICE OF 
 
 with an account of his discoveries. The governor had 
 been, in the mean time, extremely uneasy about the fate of 
 the expedition, ajad-was highly gratified upon the arrival of 
 the messenger, Pedro de Alvarado. Grijalva proceeded to 
 the province of Panuco, and in a river called " De Canoas," 
 from the circumstance which occurred there, his smallest 
 ship was attacked, while at anchor, by ten canoes filled with 
 Indians, who succeeded in cutting the cable, but were re 
 pulsed with some loss. Grijalva, who was not destined to 
 prosecute this discovery, then judged it most prudent to re 
 turn to Cuba. Bernal Diaz says, however, that the com 
 mander wished to jnake a permanent settlement, but was 
 overruled by his officers, who represented the lateness of 
 the season and the want of provisions as insuperable objec 
 tions to remaining. From this, the largest and most en 
 couraging voyage yet made by the adventurers in America, 
 the ships returned to St. Jago, in October. It was now 
 known that Yucatan was not an island ; and that the conti 
 nent stretched many hundred miles in a direction not before 
 explored Velasquez was inflated with joy. He enter 
 tained the hope of slighting with impunity the rights of Don 
 Diego Columbus (as his own were afterward disregarded 
 by Cortes), and despatched his chaplain, Benito Martinez, 
 to Castile, with letters to his patron, Bishop Fonseca, and 
 other powerful men, requesting them to obtain for him a 
 commission to procure gold, and to make such settlements 
 as he might deem expedient, in any region of the New 
 World. This he obtained ; and Martinez also brought him 
 back a commission of adelantado of Cuba. Before his 
 arrival, however, Velasquez had been preparing a powerful 
 armament in anticipation. 
 
 Here, before taking up the expedition of Cortes in an un 
 broken connexion, it seems better to make such few remarks 
 on the then existing extent of the discoveries in America, 
 and some other particulars, as our limits allow. All the 
 West Indian islands had been descried, and the most im- 
 
HERN AN CORTES. 31 
 
 portant of them visited. The Spaniards at different times 
 had visited the main from the coast of Florida to the 35th 
 degree of south latitude. The English, in the mean time, 
 had sailed from Labrador to Florida ; and the Portuguese 
 Lad visited the same region in exploring a north-western 
 passage to India. Of Mexico, Peru, and the countries south 
 of the parallel of latitude mentioned, nothing was yet known 
 with certainty. The question which has produced so much 
 wild and visionary discussion, of how this continent was 
 originally peopled, is answered with a deal of simplicity, by 
 the Archbishop of Mexico, who edited the letters of Cortes 
 in 1770, from which imprint they have been now repub- 
 lished. He says : " Es en vano fatigarse, sobre sus as- 
 cendientes ; pues de la Torre de Babel, se estendieron las 
 gentes por todo el mundo : y assi por el polo arctico, no se 
 ha descubierto fin a la tierra en esta America ; por lo que 
 hoy es inutil la question de como vinieron por mar, pues 
 por la tierra pudieron venir de las otras partes del mundo ; 
 porque ninguno puede asegurar lo contrario, pues por el 
 norte de Nueva-Espana no se ha hallado el termino."* The 
 archbishop is probably more than half right. Good sense 
 concurs with the traditions of the Mexicans and those of 
 some of the Indian tribes to the north, in assigning the north 
 eastern part of Asia as the quarter from which the ances 
 tors of most of these nations probably entered this continent. 
 At the same time, there are strong evidences of its having 
 been reached at several periods from other quarters, in both 
 of its divisions. And unless the poem of Ercilla is a pure 
 creation of his brain, and -the history of the Abbe Molina 
 more apocryphal than than that of Herodotus, there were 
 
 * " It is vain to fatigue ourselves respecting the question who were 
 their ancestors, since from the tower of Babel the nations spread them 
 selves over the whole world ; and towards the arctic pole no end has 
 been discovered to the land in this America ; wherefore the question is 
 useless how they came by sea, since they could come by land from the 
 other parts of the world. No one can affirm the contrary, for to the 
 north of New-Spain no termination has been found." 
 
32 HISTORICAL NOTICE OF 
 
 too many points in the Araucanian mythology correspond* 
 ing with those of the Egyptian, to warrant us in setting 
 them down under the head of" singular coincidences." But 
 whether stray vessels were, in distant ages, carried quite 
 across the Atlantic (a fact not exceedingly improbable), or 
 whether the' Polynesian islands are the vestiges of some 
 mighty convulsion of nature, are points which the ingenuity 
 of man does not seem likely to elucidate. The traditions 
 of the Mexicans, with whom alone we have to do, were 
 briefly and in substance as alluded to below. It is to be 
 observed, that the story rests for its basis on the reports of 
 traditions merely^ for most of the pictures on cotton cloths, 
 skins, and the bark of trees, on which this half-civilized 
 people had chronicled the supposed events of their history, 
 were destroyed after the conquest by ecclesiastical author 
 ity, under a notion that they were connected with magic 
 and diabolism.* Several writers, however, of that period, 
 both Mexican and Spanish, immediately wrote down the 
 supposed contents of the pictures thus destroyed. These 
 traditions, illustrated by the pictures, purport that the coun 
 try called New-Spain by the conquerors, was named, in 
 ancient days, Anahuac, or a region cerea del agua or near 
 the water. This name was originally given to the valley of 
 Mexico, and afterward extended to the circumjacent terri 
 tories. The traditions of five of the nations who settled in 
 this district concur in stating, what we have before men 
 tioned, that their ancestors came from the north. Gigantic 
 relics of bones found in supposed places of sepulture, 
 whether they were those of men or animals, prove nothing 
 which at present merits consideration. According to their 
 chronological records, as made out by modern Europeans, 
 
 * Of those preserved, some found their way to France and some to Eng 
 land, by the fortune of .war some are at Vienna. The tribute. roll published 
 in the original edition, of Archbishop Lorenzana's publication, has not been 
 engraved for this work. One specimen of the Mexican hieroglyphics has 
 been copied from the illustrations of Clavigero's History. 
 

 -* 
 
 1IERNAN CORTES. 33 
 
 a people called the Tolteques emigrated from a distant land* 
 to the north-east of the Mexican valley, in the year of re 
 demption 550. After a pilgrimage nearly thrice as long as 
 that of the ancient Israelites, they founded a city at about 
 fifty miles distance from the site of the future Mexico* 
 This city is commemorated as the most ancient in Ana- 
 huac, and one of the most celebrated in Mexican history* 
 The monarchy of these Tolteques lasted from the year 667 
 of the vulgar era, during 384 years ; when famine and 
 pestilence drove nearly the whole nation into different parts 
 of the continent. Some went to Yucatan, others to Guate 
 mala ; and a few remained in what had been the kingdom 
 of Tula, scattering over the valley of Mexico. These Tol* 
 teques were an agricultural people* They melted and 
 wrought gold ; and they kept the calendar as correctly as 
 was done after its regulation in the time of Julius Caesar 
 Such is an abstract of their annals. Credat Judceus ap- 
 pella. About a hundred years after the dispersion of the 
 Tolteques, the Chichimecos, a half-tamed and half-civilized 
 people, governed by immediate chieftains, a nobility, and a 
 sovereign, after the feudal, or rather patriarchal fashion, left 
 their settlements at the north, and established themselves at 
 Terrayuca, six. miles from the site of Mexico. They con 
 tracted alliances with some of the remaining Tolteques, and 
 learned their arts and sciences. A few years afterward 
 other tribes descended into Anahuac, from regions border 
 ing on those whence the Chichimecos had emigrated. The 
 greatest of these was the nation Acolhua, whose three 
 princes married three princesses of the Chichimecos. The 
 royal residence was indifferently at Terrayuc^ and Tez- 
 cuco. The entire kingdom soon assumed the name of Acol- 
 huacan, though many of the Chichimecos, retaining their 
 ancient savage habits, mingled more or less with the 
 Otomites, a fierce and warlike nation, beyond the mountains 
 to the north-west, who warred on the now civilized occu 
 pants of the plains below. The dynasty of the Chichimese 
 
 VOL. I. E 
 

 34 HISTORICAL NOTICE OF 
 
 kings lasted in unbroken descent through six monarchs, 
 until the commencement of the fifteenth century ; after 
 which two usurpers succeeded to the throne of Acolhuacan. 
 There was a nominal succession of five other sovereigns, 
 with whose reign the history of Mexico and that of the 
 conquest is blended. We shall not particularize the other 
 hordes who are said to have subsequently arrived in Ana- 
 huac. It is sufficient to mention the names of the principal 
 branches of the same family, -who severally emigrated from 
 the province of Aztlan. These were, in the order of their 
 arrival, the Xoquimilches, Chalmeques, Tepancques, Col- 
 huis, Tlahuiques, Tlascaleses, or Tlastaltecas, and the Mex 
 icans. All historians agree that these were of the same 
 great family. They arrived at different periods in the val 
 ley of Mexico ; and we shall have occasion to advert to 
 most of them. The Tlascalese claim some notice before 
 we sketch the outline of the Mexican history. These peo 
 ple at first established themselves on the eastern shore of 
 the Lake of Tezcuco, where they were obliged to maintain 
 themselves as hunters, not having a sufficient extent of land 
 to follow the quiet pursuits of agriculture. Their neigh 
 bours took up arms to drive them from the soil ; and these 
 western Ishmaelites defended themselves with the valour of 
 desperation. Though victorious, they felt the necessity of 
 a removal, and divided into two bands, one going in a north 
 ern and the other in a southern direction. Both divisions 
 laid the foundations of several villages and cities in their 
 routes. The most formidable and respectable part of the 
 nation, however, still wandered and lingered in the neigh 
 bourhood of the lake, and wars ensued, which terminated in 
 the settlement of the Tlascalese about forty miles or up 
 wards to the east of the lake, under a republican form of 
 government, which they had preserved at the time of the 
 invasion. 
 
 The Mexicans are, historically, the most important of the 
 seven tribes we have referred to ; and we shall briefly 
 
, ':& 
 
 HERNAN CORTES. 35 
 
 follow Clavigerb in his synopsis of their annals. They, 
 with the others, are said to have emigated from Aztlan, a 
 country whose locality is altogether apocryphal. It was to 
 the north of the Gulf of California ; so that there is room 
 enough for imagination to rove in. They commenced their 
 wanderings in the year 1160 of the vulgar era, and omens, 
 auguries, and prophecies are said to have occasioned and 
 directed their journey, exactly resembling those which 
 illustrated the voyage of ^Eneas to Italy. Whether ^Eneas 
 did or did not find and colonize Italy may admit of much 
 doubt ; but the Mexicans certainly settled in Anahuac. 
 We shall not follow their route, of which traces were left 
 in their monuments and temples. From Culiacan, on the 
 eastern shore of the Gulf of California, the seven tribes 
 travelled many days together towards the east. At Chico- 
 moztoc, six of them left the Mexicans, and proceeded in 
 their journyings towards Anahuac. After a nine years* 
 sojourning in those parts, the Mexicans, passing probably 
 through Michuacan, arrived at Tula, at which place a dif 
 ference is said to have arisen, which divided them into two 
 parties, whose subsequent separation we shall notice. The 
 course of their progress was circuitous ; but, as they fol 
 lowed the path indicated by the low grounds, it is not to be 
 wondered at. In 1216, A. D., they arrived at Tzompanco, 
 in the valley of Mexico, and about twenty miles north from 
 the lake, where an alliance was formed between one of their 
 princesses and the son of the chief of the country, from 
 which union descended the kings of Mexico. After a seven 
 years' sojourn in Tzompanco, the emigrants wandered to 
 Tizajocan, where a son was born to their new ally the 
 Prince Ithuicatl. They formed other alliances in this 
 region, but the opposition of a chief of the Chichimecos 
 compelled them, in 1245, to take refuge in the heights, 
 within two miles westward of the site of their, destined 
 city. After passing seventeen years in this district, in a 
 constant state of warfare with their savage neighbours, 
 
36 HISTORICAL NOTICE OP 
 
 they took possession of a group of small islands at the 
 southern extremity of the Lake of Mexico ; living for fifty- 
 two years in a state of nakedness and wretchedness, on 
 fish, aquatic fowl, insects, and roots. Either by force or 
 by their own consent they then passed into Colhuacan, and 
 became, in 1314, the vassals of the Colhuis, whose territory 
 lay to the north, north-east, and east of the lake. After 
 several years, a war arose between these people and the 
 Joquimilques their neighbours, who dwelt at the south side 
 of the lake ; in which war the new subjects of the Colhuis, 
 the Mexicans, assisted them vigorously. But they cele 
 brated their victory with human sacrifices ; and shocked 
 the feelings of their protectors so much by these and other 
 practices, that they had permission, or rather received 
 orders, to depart. After some farther wanderings, they 
 arrived at the spot where they founded their city. They 
 found a tree (nopal) growing out of a rock, with an eagle 
 upon it, which induced them to give to the country, and 
 subsequently to the city, the name of Tenochtitlan, The 
 origin of the name Megico is much disputed. Clavigero 
 jsays, it is derived from the appellation of the Mars of their 
 mythology and their tutelary god, and signifies the place 
 Megitli, or Huitzilopochtli. To this god they built a rude 
 .temple when they commenced their settlement, and copse* 
 crated it by sacrificing a human victim, one of the Colhuis. 
 This was in the year 1325, They were again driven to 
 fishing and hunting on the lake by necessity ; and, by the 
 product of their labours, and Such barter ag they could 
 make with their neighbours, supported themselves in a 
 miserable condition for thirteen years. In 1338, the quarrel 
 among them, to which we have before alluded, and which 
 had remained unforgotten, terminated in a division of the 
 nation ; a portion of them removing to an island of the lake 
 Jo the northward, subsequently known as Tlatelolco, as the 
 .emigrants were also subsequently called Tlatelolques, 
 About the time when the division occurred, the city of 
 
HERNAN CORTES. ,37 
 
 Mexico was divided into four quarters, each dedicated 
 to a tutelary god. The government was oligarchical, or ^^ 
 managed by a few nobles, until 1352, when the want of an 
 energetic executive and the example of their neighbours, 
 led them to establish a monarchy. Their first monarch, 
 Acamapichtzin was elected, as it should seem, by some 
 twenty chieftains or nobles. There is a confusion among 
 historians as to his genealogy. Here we enter upon a rapid 
 survey of the Mexican dynasty ; and it must be borne in 
 mind that their early annals, vague and often unintelligible 
 as we find them, relate to an extent of territory no greater 
 than that of the Romans, when they first domesticated 
 themselves on their seven little hillocks. The first king, 
 after fruitless attempts to intermarry with the families of 
 the other princes around him, effected an alliance with the 
 daughter of the chief of Coatlichan, whose territory lay 
 some seventy miles west of Mexico, and who was a 
 descendant of one of the three princes Acolhuis. The 
 Tlatelolques, in imitation of their brethren, and in a spirit 
 of rivalry, also established a monarchy. They, as well as 
 the Mexicans from whom they had separated, were dwelling 
 within the territory of the king of the Tepaneques, which 
 they acknowledged by paying him a small tribute. This 
 monarch, who was also styled king of Azcapozalco, and 
 whose capital was TIacopan, now Tacuba, at the request 
 of the Tlatelolques, gave them one of his sons to reign over 
 them ; and by their representations was induced to increase 
 the burthens of their rivals and co-descendants, the Mexi 
 cans, to a most onerous degree. Hitherto they had paid, 
 annually, a certain quantity of the fish and aquatic birds 
 which they took in the lake and its vicinity. They were 
 now required to render in tribute a double quantity ; in 
 addition to which they were to furnish many thousand 
 bundles of willow and fir twigs, to be planted in the high 
 ways and gardens of Azcapozalco, and to bring to the court 
 of the monarch a floating garden, planted with every variety 
 
38 HISTORICAL NOTICE OP 
 
 of the vegetable productions of Anahuac. With this and 
 the subsequently increased exactions the Mexicans com 
 plied from necessity. The habit of industry thus enforced, 
 no doubt, contributed to produce their subsequent wealth 
 and influence. This oppression continued for fifty years. 
 Their first king reigned for thirty-seven ; and their limits, 
 during his time, extended solely to those of the city a 
 miserable village of cabins, made of reeds and mud. He 
 died in 1389, and the chieftains elected in his stead his son 
 Huitzilihuitl. 
 
 This king, the second of the dynasty, obtained by the sup 
 plication of the Mexican ambassadors the daughter of the 
 reigning monarch of tlie Tepaneques in marriage. Tezo- 
 zomoc then ruled in Azcapozalco. He was a crafty and, 
 apparently, a far-sighted chief. His youngest son Majtla- 
 ton, fearing that the issue of this marriage might succeed to 
 his paternal throne, had the infant son of the Mexican king 
 assassinated a few years afterward. At this time the 
 Mexicans distinguished themselves, and acquired honour 
 and power by assisting, in conjunction with the Tepaneques, 
 their neighbours the Acolhuis, in putting down the rebellion 
 of a vassal chieftain, who had stirred up to his assistance the 
 tribes of the north-east of the lake. From this period the 
 Mexicans seem to have advanced rapidly ; forming alli 
 ances with their neighbours, attending to the pursuits of 
 agriculture, and multiplying the number of their barks and 
 floating gardens on the lake. The king of Acolhuacan died 
 about the year 1402, and the ambitious views of the sove 
 reign of Azcapozalco soon developed themselves. He 
 enlisted in his projects the Mexicans and Tlatelolques ; 
 stirred up many of the chiefs of the Acolhuis to revolt ; and 
 a long war ensued, which was temporarily quieted, after 
 some years, by the king of the Tepaneques hypocritically 
 suing for peace. 
 
 In 1409 the third Mexican monarch, Quimalpopoca, 
 ascended the throne, a brother of the preceding monarch, 
 
 
MEttNAN CORTJKS. 39 
 
 on whose demise he was elected by the nobles. At this 
 time the law of succession seems to have been either par 
 ticularly recognised, or originally established ; by which 
 brothers of a deceased monarch were first eligible, and, in 
 case of their being dead, nephews. The Caribees of the West 
 India islands had a rule somewhat similar ; but for which 
 they assigned a better natural reason. They made the 
 children of the uterine sisters of their chiefs capable of sue* 
 ceeding him ; because they were certain of being at least 
 half right in preserving the blood royal. This third Mexi* 
 can monarch w r as the most unfortunate of the dynasty, 
 before the arrival of the Spaniards, as the incidents of his 
 reign will show. The king of the Acolhuis was driven by 
 the intrigues of his neighbours into the adjacent mountains, 
 where he wandered in a state sometimes bordering on 
 starvation. He. was treacherously slain by the emissaries 
 of his enemy in 1410, leaving the prince Nezahualcojotl his 
 heir, whose mother was a daughter of the first king of 
 Mexico. The king of the Tepaneques, Tezozomoc, re 
 warded his allies, by giving to the Mexicans the city of 
 Tezcuco, and to the Tlatelolques that of Huejotla, a few 
 miles to the south, to be held by them as his tributaries. 
 He placed the other cities of Acolhuacan under the govern 
 ment of his own officers. The Mexicans notwithstanding 
 acknowledged the claims of the hereditary prince, the grand 
 son of their monarch, and favoured them as far as they 
 were able to^ do. Their hatred of Tezozomoc was aug 
 mented by new exactions, levied on them and the cognate 
 family of the Chichimecos. Tezozomoc terminated his 
 mortal career in 1422, nominating his oldest son as his 
 successor. It must be borne in mind that his court was 
 but four miles distant from that of Mexico, and the princes 
 were in the frequent habit of visiting each other. Majtla- 
 ton, already mentioned, the youngest son of the deceased 
 king Tezozomoc, soon found a pretext for assassinating his 
 eldest brother at a banquet; and was also successful in 
 
40 HISTORICAL NOTICE Of 
 
 causing the Mexican king to be forcibly arfested in his own 
 city, and thrown into a wooden prison in Azcapozalco, after 
 having so far insulted and oppressed him that he was about 
 to immolate himself to his gods, after the custom of his 
 ancestry. The captive monarch was visited in his durance 
 by his nephew the hereditary prince of the Acolhuis, whom 
 Majtlaton, called the tyrant, did not see fit to destroy. By 
 his uncle's advice, the prince privately withdrew from 
 immediate danger ; and the third monarch of the Mexican 
 line, left to the solitude of his prison, put an end to his. own 
 life in 1423, as is said, by hanging himself with his girdle. 
 Some border wars were waged during his reign, not spe 
 cially commemorated in history. A hot search ensued, by 
 order of the tyrant, for the prince of Acolcuahan, who had 
 many hair-breadth escapes, until he took refuge in the little 
 republic of Tlascala ; where he was well received, and soon 
 collected around him several princes, either declared ene 
 mies of Majtlaton, or his discontented tributaries. 
 
 Meantime the fourth Mexican king was elected by the 
 suffrage of those nobles who were entitled to choose the sove 
 reign. This was Itzcoatl, a natural son of the first and 
 brother of the two preceding kings. A good understanding 
 immediately took place between him and the Prince Neza- 
 hualcoyotl,who succeeded in chastising severely the people 
 of Tezcuco, the capital of his hereditary dominions, for their 
 adherence to the tyrant, while his allies reduced to subjec 
 tion the two other principal towns. Motenczoma Ilhuicacu- 
 ina, son of the third king of Mexico, general of the army, 
 and one of the most illustrious men in their annals, now 
 entered on the scene of action. We have na space for a 
 detail of the particular instances of his valour and singular 
 escapes from the perils into which his spirit of enterprise 
 led him. The hostile intentions of Majtlaton towards 
 Mexico were no longer disguised, and the prince repaired to 
 that city, where a union was agreed upon for its defence, of 
 its troops and those of Tezcuco. The Mexicans regarded 
 
HERN AN CORTES. 41 
 
 the approaching contest with the greatest alarm. The 
 intrepidity and eloquence of Motenczoma, however, roused 
 them to action, He undertook in person' an embassy to 
 Majtlaton, received and returned his defiance, and mar 
 shalled the forces of his countrymen for the exigency. At 
 this period, it is probable that two of the causeways, at 
 least, had been constructed ; to wit, those of Tacuba and 
 Tepeyacac ; though they were undoubtedly much improved 
 afterward. The patient toil requisite to make them at all 
 passable marks an advanced stage in the system of govern 
 ment. In two battles under their valiant leader, the Mexi 
 cans routed the Tepaneques, entered their capital, and slew 
 the usurper Majtlaton. Most of the nation submitted to the 
 victors, now lords instead of being tributaries ; and con 
 quered lands were distributed between Motenczoma and 
 the warriors who had most distinguished themselves in the 
 conflict. The Mexican king, with a due regard to justice, 
 and to prove his gratitude for the assistance he had received, 
 restored Prince Nezahualcoyotl to the throne of his paternal 
 ancestors, monarchs of the Chichimecos, and put him in 
 possession of Tezcuco. He was also assisted in quelling 
 the opposition of several chieftains, and the allied armies 
 separated with songs of triumph and much booty. The 
 Tlascalese had been very serviceable in this war. The 
 armies of the Mexicans and Acolhuis did not however 
 pause in their career of victory ; but subjected the adjacent 
 tribes who had given cause of provocation, to the distance of 
 about thirty miles south-west from Mexico. It should have 
 been mentioned that before the battles with the tyrant, the 
 Mexican populace, in a solemn meeting* pledged themselves 
 to support the authority of the nobles, and of the king chosen 
 by them, in case of victory ; to be their tributaries, labour 
 in their fields, and follow them in their wars. After the 
 success of his arms, the Mexican king, from a sense of jus 
 tice, or from motives of policy, conferred on the grandson 
 of Tezozomoc the title of king of Tlacopan (or Tacuba), 
 
 VOL. I. F 
 
42 HISTORICAL NOTICE OF 
 
 investing him with the government of part of the country 
 subject to his forefathers, including the district of Mazahu- 
 acan, extending to the mountains north-west of the lake. 
 A triple alliance was thus formed between the three power 
 ful princes of Mexico, Tacuba, and Acolhuacan ; the two 
 latter, however, being bound to render aid in case of war 
 to the former, and to yield up to him by far the greatest 
 proportion of the spoil. They were each to have a voice, 
 as honorary electors, in ratifying the choice of every Mexi 
 can monarch, to be made by four of the Mexican nobles, 
 who were recognised as being invested with that privilege. 
 The Mexicans reciprocally covenanted to aid their tributa 
 ries and allies. Here we arrive at the first great landing- 
 place in the history of their advances to vast power and 
 domination. This alliance, formed with great solemnity in 
 1426, remained unbroken for a century. During the ten 
 remaining years of the reign of the fourth king of Mexico, 
 the tribes at the south of the lake, to the distance of thirty 
 miles or more, were subdued, and agreed to pay him 
 tribute. In his time the capital was much increased. 
 Buildings of stone and mortar, and temples were erected. 
 His obsequies were celebrated with much pomp. 
 
 The general Motenczoma I. was elected his successor, 
 being, as we have mentioned, his nephew, and son of the sec 
 ond king, Huitzilihuitl. Before his coronation, either in 
 compliance with old precedents, or to create a new and 
 barbarous one, he set out on an expedition to procure prison 
 ers, by whose sacrifice his coronation might be solemnized. 
 An ancient cause of offence was found against the Chal- 
 queses, a tribe between the lake and the mountains to the 
 south-east. Many of them were taken captives ; and Mo 
 tenczoma was crowned with all the ceremonies of barbaric 
 pomp. The horde of Chalco soon after retaliated the sacri 
 fice of his people, by putting to death five nobles of Mexico 
 and Tezcuco, who fell into his hands. He caused their 
 bodies to be dried and salted, and placed them in his hall 
 
HERNAN CORTES. 43 
 
 to support the pine torches with which it was illuminated. 
 In consequence of this outrage, Motenczoma with his allies 
 attacked the Chalqueses both by land and water ; sacked 
 their city, and executed their chief. A great quantity of 
 booty was obtained in this war. Soon after the Tlate- 
 lolques, whose inveterate jealousy of their kindred nation 
 remained unabated, and between whom and the Mexicans 
 no intercourse took place except clandestinely, meditated 
 putting themselves at the head of a general conspiracy to 
 overthrow the power of Motenczoma* He anticipated 
 their designs by attacking them ; killed their sovereign, and 
 compelled them to accept a king of his own nomination. In 
 the first nine years of this monarch's reign, he extended his 
 conquests more than 150 miles south and south-west of his 
 capital, and subjected to his dominion the extensive province 
 of Cohuixco. -In the tenth year, or 1446, the lake became 
 swollen with excessive rains, and the city of Mexico was inun 
 dated ; many houses were destroyed, and the streets were 
 rendered impassable except by boats. To prevent a recur 
 rence of this calamity, a most laborious work was under 
 taken and accomplished. A dike was constructed to keep 
 out the waters, nine miles in length and sixty-six in breadth. 
 It was composed of stakes, driven down in parallel rows, 
 the intermediate space being filled with stones and earth. 
 In this work all the allies and neighbouring tributaries 
 assisted. The princes set the example to their subjects by 
 toiling themselves in its construction. As the water was in 
 some places very deep, ingenuity must have supplied 
 mechanical contrivances to overcome the difficulty. This 
 dike was not entirely sufficient to prevent partial inunda 
 tions ; but was exceedingly useful to the city. Another 
 calamity soon visited it. Untimely frosts and a want of 
 seasonable rains occasioned a failure of the crops for four 
 successive years ; and in 1452 the wants of the people could 
 not be satisfied. The magnates threw open to them their own 
 granaries, but the supply was inadequate to the necessity. 
 
 v.. . 
 
44 HISTORICAL NOTICE OF 
 
 In this strait, Motenczoma allowed his subjects to sell them 
 selves as servants to other nations. Many of them died 
 of exhaustion on their way, and many never returned to 
 their own country. The body of the people supported 
 themselves as their ancestors had done, by hunting and 
 fishing. In 1454 an abundant crop of maize, vegetables, 
 and fruits, restored them to comfort. This famine, like all 
 the difficulties with which this people had to struggle, 
 increased their greatness in its ultimate tendency. It 
 strengthened the hands of the government ; led to prudent 
 calculations against the recurrence of a similar evil, and to 
 an apportionment of tribute among the nations from whom 
 it was exacted, by which the capital was always supplied 
 with provisions sufficient for any ordinary emergency. 
 With returning prosperity, the warlike Motenczoma was 
 soon led to take up arms again. His subjects having been 
 ill-treated, his couriers detained, and the travelling Mexican 
 merchants despoiled by the people to the south-east and 
 east of his kingdom, pretexts for war were found, and 
 readily embraced. In a few years he reduced to subjection 
 the principal towns in the large districts of Mixtecapan and 
 Mazatlan ; pushing his conquests in both directions near to 
 the Gulf of Mexico and to the coast of the Pacific. In 1457, 
 with a powerful army of all his confederates and depend 
 ants, he waged war on the people of Cuetlachtlan, or Cotasta, 
 whose country lay on the gulf. They formed an alliance 
 with the three martial republics of Tlascala, Cholula, and 
 Huejotzingo, whose territories lay "between them and the 
 lake. But the fortune of Motenczoma prevailed. The 
 province of Cuetlachtlan was subdued ; and six thousand 
 captives were sacrificed at the dedication of a new Mex 
 ican temple, destined to preserve the bones of victims. 
 After this signal victory, celebrated in Mexican song, Mo^ 
 tenczoma rewarded his ally the king of Tlatelolco, by giving 
 him in marriage his cousin, the sister of the three succeed 
 ing monarchs. A rebellion of the people of Chalco at this 
 
IIERNAN CORTES. 45 
 
 time was punished with terrible severity ; the yoke of then- 
 servitude was made heavier ; and their district was appor 
 tioned to the principal captains who had signalized them 
 selves in the war. New conquests followed in rapid 
 succession. The dominions of Motenczoma, at the time of 
 his death, 1464, extended eastward to the Mexican Gulf; 
 south-eastward to the centre of Mixtecapan ; in a southern 
 direction 150 miles, to Chilapan ; and west and north to the 
 mountains which enclose the valley. His garrisons were 
 placed in every tributary region. This king is celebrated 
 for his civil, as well as his military talents. The ceremonial 
 ojf his court was regulated with great nicety in all ifs 
 details ; his penal code was rigidly enforced, he built 
 many new temples and established new rites, all of them 
 stained with blood, according to the atrocious super 
 stitions of the people ; and while his authority was respected 
 with awe and fear, he was personally beloved with an idol 
 atrous reverence. His obsequies were celebrated with a 
 pomp corresponding to his dignity. 
 
 Ajayacatl, his successor, and the sixth of the dynasty, 
 was, as were his two brothers, who succeeded him on the 
 Mexican throne, son of Tezozomoc, by the princess Mat* 
 lalatzin, his own niece, and daughter of Itzcoatl, the fourth 
 Mexican king. He made an expedition to Tehuantepec, on 
 the Pacific Ocean, four hundred miles south-east of the lake ; 
 took many prisoners ; and extended his conquest to Coa- 
 tulco, a maritime town beyond. He returned with booty 
 and with prisoners, who were sacrificed at his coronation, 
 He suppressed rebellions, and strengthened his power 
 within the limits of his predecessor's domain. In 1469 and 
 1470, the kings of Tacuba andTezcuco, so long the firm allies 
 of Mexico, died at advanced ages. The latter (Nezahuak 
 coyotl) was one of the most renowned heroes in that age 
 and country. Undaunted and enterprising in war ; severe 
 and inflexible in the administration of justice ; benevolent 
 to his poorer subjects even to beneficence ; ingenious him- 
 
46 HISTORICAL NOTICE OP 
 
 self in the useful and ornamental arts, and their liberal 
 patron ; enlightened as to religion, and believing in one 
 true God only, while he tolerated from necessity the super 
 stitions of his subjects ; endowed with a fine imagination, 
 which gave vent to itself in his poetical compositions, not 
 in celebrating in barbaric strains the mere gests of warriors 
 in battle, but in aspirations to the invisible fountain of exist 
 ence, in hymns to the Omnipotent, and in elegies on the 
 instability of human grandeur ; such is the character 
 ascribed to the Lord of Acolhuacan. The story of his 
 romantic fortunes in youth, and of his splendid reign after 
 his restoration to his rights, seems to be not altogether apoc 
 ryphal. The most memorable event in the reign of the 
 sixth Mexican king, was the conquest of the Tlatelolques ; 
 whom his predecessor was either unable or unwilling to re 
 duce to actual dependency. We have mentioned that Mo- 
 tenczoma I. dictated to them the choice of their king, to whom 
 he subsequently gave his cousin in marriage. This unfortu 
 nate lady was badly treated by her husband, and gave regular 
 notice of his plots against her countrymen to the Mexicans. 
 A brief but sanguinary contest terminated in the entire 
 subjection of the Tlatelolques. Their king was slain ; their 
 city made a suburb of Mexico, and a heavy tribute imposed 
 upon them. Their confederates were severely punished. 
 The sixth king of Mexico subsequently extended the bound 
 aries of his empire to the west as far as the kingdom of 
 Michuacan, and reduced the people south of that country 
 to his subjection. He died in 1477, leaving many sons ; 
 one of whom was the celebrated and unfortunate Motenc- 
 zoma II. 
 
 He was succeeded by his elder brother, Tizoc, whose 
 reign was less illustrious than that of any of his predeces* 
 sors. He made, however, farther conquests to the south 
 during the five years of his administration. He is said to 
 have been taken off by poison, administered through the 
 malice of a discontented tributary chieftain. 
 
1IERNAN CORTES. 47 
 
 The eighth king, brother of his two predecessors, was* 
 named Ahuitzotl, who had like them proved his military 
 talents by conducting the armies of the kingdom and its 
 allies to victory. He was crowned with much pomp, after 
 completing the great temple ; having in the intermediate 
 time captivated many prisoners, who were sacrificed at the 
 ceremony. The number mentioned by historians (more 
 than 60,000) is altogether incredible. This king was 
 engaged in a constant succession of wars and conquests- 
 until 1496, when the triumph of his arms received a severe 
 check from the people of Atlixo, whose city, though not 
 more than thirty miles from the south-east corner of the 
 lake, yet preserved its independence, as did that of Huexot- 
 zinco, a few miles to the north. In 1498, Mexico was 
 again inundated in consequence of the king's obstinacy in 
 persisting to introduce by a canal the waters of a well in 
 Coyoacan into the lake. In the two last years of his reign, 
 a famous Mexican general, Tliltolotl, marched with his vic 
 torious troops as far as Guatemala, more than nine- hundred 
 miles south-east of the capital. At the time of the death of 
 Ahuitzotl in 1502^ the Mexican dominions were nearly a 
 extensive as they were when the Spaniards invaded them. 
 
 Motenczoma II. was elected his successor. He was, as 
 we have mentioned, son of the sixth king ;* and had not 
 only distinguished himself as general of the armies, but also in 
 a sacerdotal and civil capacity. He was grave, dignified, 
 aristocratic in his feelings, and withal inclined to be super 
 stitious. When his election was announced to him, he re 
 tired into the temple, declaring himself unworthy of the 
 honour. Perhaps his reluctance was not altogether affected, 
 He had perhaps good sense enough to know the vacilla 
 tion of purpose to which his mind seems to have been con 
 stitutionally subject ; and may have conscientiously shrunk 
 
 * Llorenzana says, he was the son of the first Motenczoma. We have 
 followed Clavigero, who adopts the statement made by the greatest number 
 of chroniclers. 
 
v48 HISTORICAL NOTICE OF 
 
 from the responsibility of controlling a great empire, whose 1 
 component provinces were heterogeneous, and many- of 
 whose vassals were restless under the yoke. The king of 
 Acolhuacan congratulated him and the people over whom 
 he was to rule, in a speech to which he was for some time 
 unable to reply, being overcome by his feelings even to 
 shedding tears. They were prophetic of his misfortunes. 
 The Atliqueses, who had rebelled in the last reign, were 
 selected as the .subjects to supply victims for the barbarous 
 rites of the coronation. He returned from an incursion 
 into their province with many prisoners. The ceremonies 
 were splendid, and attracted to Mexico the Tlascales from 
 the east, and the Michicuaneses from the west, who, by the 
 new monarch's commands, were treated with princely hos 
 pitality. Dances, sports, theatrical representations, and 
 illuminations, enlivened the capital for a long period. Tri 
 bute poured in from every subjugated tribe. The wealth of 
 the crown and of the nobles was displayed with profusion. 
 Such was the commencement of his unfortunate reign. He 
 soon gave offence by displacing all such officers of his court 
 as were of plebeian origin ; whom the wisdom of his pre 
 decessors had selected for their ability, without reference 
 to the dignity of their ancestry. Six hundred tributary 
 princes or nobles discharged the offices of his palace, and 
 the number of women connected with the establishment was 
 as great. His passion for the sex was extravagant, but 
 has no doubt been exaggerated. But without anticipating 
 further the particulars which Cortes has himself given, or 
 describing the magnificence of his regal establishment, it is 
 sufficient to say, that boundless luxury and uncontrolled 
 power produced on him their invariable effects. Though of 
 a naturally amiable and mild temperament, pride, supersti 
 tion and rigour predominated in his administration. The 
 Tlascaleses, whose stubborn little republic had never paid 
 tribute to the Mexicans, had fortified the circuit of their 
 smail territory with ditches and forts. Mexican garrisons 
 
HEfcNAN CORTES* 49 
 
 were posted around them ; and they were precluded frond 
 carrying on any regular traffic with their neighbours. They 
 built their famous wall, six miles in length, in consequence 
 of the threats of the Mexicans. Shut up thus in their im 
 pregnable barriers, they experienced one great evil, the want 
 of salt, which their soil did not supply. The small prov 
 inces between them and the lake, jealous of their preserv 
 ing an independence which they had lost, attacked them in 
 this reign, and were driven back discomfited, to ask sup 
 port from Motenczoma. The king despatched an army to 
 their assistance, under -the command of his eldest son, 
 which was routed by the Tlascaleses with the loss of the 
 general. Either the Mexicans were unable, with all their 
 power, to subdue this democracy, which existed in defiance 
 of them, at only sixty miles' distance from the capital, or, 
 as some writers have supposed, they were willing to permit 
 them to remain, in an attitude always half-belligerent, in 
 order to have the means of exercising their armies in prac 
 tical warfare, and obtaining victims for their gods. The 
 former is by far the most probable supposition. Revolts 
 took place in the more remote provinces, between the 
 time of Motenczoma' s accession and 1508. They were not 
 suppressed without many losses, which disheartened the 
 nation. The crops failed, and a famine drove many into 
 exile. A comet appeared, which excited their superstitious 
 terrors ; and the king of Acolhuacan, renowned for his 
 wisdom and skill in astrology, announced, as is said, impend 
 ing calamities, from the arrival of a strange people. Very 
 probably he did predict misfortunes; and it is equally prob 
 able that something had already been heard of the settle 
 ment of the Spaniards in the Isthmus; and it is very possi 
 ble that news had been received of their other expeditions to 
 the main. A wizard, employed by Motenczoma, gave him 
 a reply not more favourable than the royal astronomer had 
 done. It is also very likely, that there were in reality some 
 traditionary predictions to a similar effect ; for such have 
 
 VOL. 
 
50 HISTORICAL NOTICE OP 
 
 been current among all nations ; and when any thing hap 
 pens to which they can be made to apply, the legend becomes 
 a prophecy. There is also a romantic story, but which 
 is palpably a pure invention of that age, about a trance into 
 which a sister of Motenczoma (who was afterward con 
 verted to Christianity) was thrown at this period ; in which 
 the coming of the believers in the true God was revealed to 
 her. Other phenomena followed. The towers of the great 
 temple took fire, and strange shapes were seen in the air, 
 &c. Similar portents are gravely recorded by the histo 
 rians of the settlement of New-England. They happened 
 also in the most interesting epochs of Roman and Jewish 
 history, according to poets and annalists. A melancholy 
 presentiment of impending evils sunk deeply into the mind 
 of Motenczoma. His generals, however, were still success 
 ful in quelling the troubles of revolting tributaries ; and in 
 1512 his dominions were extended some distance to the 
 north. The king of Acolhuacan died, or resigned in 1516. 
 Dissensions arose between his sons. One of them, Caca- 
 matzin, ascended the throne. Ihtiljochitl, the other, agreed 
 to accept a large portion of the paternal possessions in lieu 
 of that dignity. He kept an army in motion, and defied 
 the authority of the Mexican king. 
 
 Here we shall pause, and carry this outline of the Mexi 
 can dynasty no further. It is obvious that the empire was 
 full of the elements of discord. Some small territories 
 remained independent and always hostile, within its bound 
 aries. Most of the tributary provinces were only kept in 
 seeming subjection by terrors arising from former punish 
 ments, and the propinquity of Mexican garrisons. Had 
 there been no disaffection to the government of Motenc 
 zoma, and had the resistance to the Spanish arms been 
 hearty and unanimous, it seems altogether improbable that 
 the small armies of Cortes, even with all their discipline, 
 and the superstitious dread of their arrival in their favour, 
 would ever have made their way within sight of the capital. 
 
"' HERNAN CORTES, 51 
 
 The form of the Mexican political system is said by most 
 modern writers to have resembled the feudal, and they em 
 ploy terms in speaking of it, borrowed from those apper 
 taining to the latter. But it certainly has but a vague re 
 semblance to the constitutions of the northern conquerors ; 
 and was made more on a small scale, like that of the Roman 
 empire, with its dependent kingdoms and provinces. The 
 population of the country was very dense ; but we shall not 
 attempt to estimate its probable amount ; as to which all the 
 authorities differ. The nations in the vicinity of the lake 
 were exceedingly procreative. The number of children 
 borne by the wives and concubines of some of the kings, 
 as reported, is almost incredible. The poorer class, how 
 ever, who constituted the great majority of the people, were 
 unable to maintain large families. Agriculture depended 
 on the natural fertility of the soil. They had no beasts of 
 burthen subjected to the yoke. In the handicrafts culti 
 vated by the artisans, the division of labour was carried to 
 some extent. The priests and principal warriors were 
 selected from the numerous progeny of the^ kings and the 
 large body of the nobility. It is not our province to enter 
 into more minute details of the state of this country, which 
 Velasquez was preparing an armament to explore. 
 
 The governor of Cuba, not waiting, as we have men 
 tioned, for the return of his messengers from Spain, had 
 collected a fleet of ten vessels, in addition to those which 
 had returned with Grijalva. He expended twenty thousand 
 ducats from his own resources, in getting up this armament. 
 He was involved in great perplexity in choosing a captain- 
 general of sufficient talents and energy to conduct the enter 
 prise, and who would at the same time be true to his (the 
 governor's) interest.* His own proceedings had taught 
 
 * The dilemma of Velasquez is well expressed by Solis, who says that he 
 was endeavouring to find a man de mucho corazon y de poco espiritu. The 
 English historian, Robertson, paraphrases the remark, as he does whole 
 pages of the work of Solis, without giving credit to his original. 
 
52 HISTORICAL NOTICE OF 
 
 him to be jealous of entrusting power to others ; and the 
 event was precisely what he anticipated and dreaded. The 
 common voice was in favour of Grijalva ; but as Velasquez 
 remained irresolute, many competitors urged their preten 
 sions. It is said that the governor offered the command to 
 Beltazar Bermudez, a native of Cuellar, where he was born 
 himself; but that Bermudez was disposed to exact condi 
 tions, which occasioned his angry dismissal. Antonio Ve 
 lasquez Borrego, and Bernardine Velasquez, relations of the 
 governor, were also prominent candidates ; but the soldiers 
 and volunteers were^enerally opposed to the appointment 
 of either of them. In this juncture, Amador de Lares, 
 royal treasurer in Cuba, and Andres de Duero, private sec 
 retary to the governor, urged upon him the nomination of 
 Hernan Cortes. The treasurer is recorded to have been a 
 man of great subtlety and business talents, who had filled 
 several important stations without knowing how to read or 
 write. Cortes was very intimate with him ; and it was 
 currently reported at the time, that, by an arrangement 
 between them, the treasurer was to share in the profits of 
 the expedition. It is natural to suppose that neither his in 
 tercession nor that of the secretary was purely disinterested. 
 Their representations were effectual ; and Cortes received 
 an ample commission, drawn by the secretary, to make 
 discoveries, to traffic with the natives and obtain gold, as 
 captain-general of the armada, under Velasquez. It is 
 proper to mention that the powers assumed by the governor, 
 in granting this instrument, were not actually granted to 
 him until the 13th of November, when a capitulation was 
 signed with his agent by Fonseca, at Barcelona. This was 
 only five days before Cortes sailed. When the appoint^ 
 ment was made public, it of course did not give satisfaction 
 to the friends and dependants of the rejected candidates. 
 On a Sunday, as Velasquez was going to church, with Cortes 
 walking by his side, one Cervantes, a licensed buffoon, cried 
 out, " Friend Diego, you have made a rare choice ! How 
 
HERNAN CORTES. 53 
 
 soon will you want to send another fleet after Cortes ?" 
 The relatives of Velasquez were assiduous in insinuating to 
 him the doubts and suspicions which he ought to entertain 
 of a man at once popular and ambitious ; who, as they 
 urged, made frankness and liberality a cloak for deceit and 
 cupidity ; and who only smothered the resentment he enter 
 tained at having been formerly coerced and imprisoned, 
 until he could take full revenge. These suggestions gained 
 upon the mind of the governor daily, as the time for the 
 departure of the fleet drew nearer. Meantime Cortes 
 assumed the state belonging to his office ; with his military 
 attire, and the other ensigns of his dignity. He erected a 
 magnificent standard of gold and velvet before his own 
 door ; with the royal arms and the sign of the cross em 
 broidered upon it, and with the motto in Latin, " Brothers, 
 let us follow the cross, for with it we shall conquer." He 
 had little difficulty in obtaining volunteers. The fame of 
 the enterprise drew around him the most active and valiant 
 men of the island. It was, however, necessary for him to 
 provide arms, munitions, horses, and provisions, to a consid 
 erable amount, at his own outlay ; and his private means 
 were very scanty. He had two thousand pesos in the hands 
 of Andrea Duero ; and he borrowed four thousand more 
 from two of his friends. Captain Bernal Diaz mentions 
 that he had been extravagant in maintaining the state and 
 appearance of himself and his wife ; by w r hich the income 
 of his property had beeen wasted. The difficulties he had 
 gone through to obtain the lady, no doubt operated on his 
 pride, and induced him to run into unnecessary and impru 
 dent expenses in his domestic display. Three hundred vol 
 unteers soon joined his standard in St. Jago. Many of these 
 were personal adherents of the governor; and among them 
 was Diego de Ordas, his first major-domo, said to have been 
 specially commissioned to act as a spy on the actions of 
 Cortes. Captain Bernal Diaz, as we have before mentioned, 
 with many of the former adventurers under Grijalva, went 
 
54 HISTORICAL NOTICE OF 
 
 to seek his fortune on his own account. Without giving a 
 catalogue of all who were subsequently distinguished, who 
 joined Cortes before his final departure from the island, we 
 shall only mention the names of Pedro de Alvarado, Cristo- 
 val de Olid, and Gonzalo de Sandoval, all of which belong 
 to history. The two first met with a violent death on the 
 field of the conquest ; the last, who always remained faith 
 ful to the fortunes of Cortes, died at a premature age, in 
 Andalusia, while accompanying the conqueror to court. 
 The preparations of Cortes being now nearly completed, 
 the reluctance on the part of the governor to intrust him 
 with the armament grew stronger. Herrera says that Ve 
 lasquez determined to revoke the commission, and commu 
 nicated his intention to the secretary and treasurer, who 
 gave timely intimation of it to Cortes ; and that the latter 
 departed from the port at night, without the ceremony of 
 taking leave. This story, with its other embellishments, as 
 compiled by that worthy and laborious annalist, is improb 
 able on its face, and is contradicted by Bernal Diaz, an eye 
 witness. According to him, Cortes certainly departed in 
 great haste. Devolving on his wife the charge of procuring 
 what supplies remained wanting, he warned all who had 
 enlisted to be on board the vessels at a certain hour ; which 
 summons being complied with, he repaired, with the secre 
 tary and treasurer to the governor's house, to receive his 
 final commands. On the ensuing morning, the 18th of No 
 vember, 1518, he set sail. The governor accompanied him 
 to his ship, in seeming amity. As the fleet was to touch at 
 other ports in the island, and remain there for some time, 
 there can be little doubt that Velasquez preferred postpon 
 ing any open rupture with the leader of so many brave and 
 impatient men, all, except his own creatures, uneasy to de 
 part. He was deficient in moral energy if not in courage ; 
 aud the want of sufficient confidence in himself, the con 
 sciousness of which deterred him from undertaking in per 
 son the glorious enterprise in which Cortes was now embark- 
 
HERNAN CORTES. 55 
 
 ing, necessarily Jed him to hate any lieutenant whose success 
 must throw his own pretensions into the shade. What he 
 dared not do himself, he meditated doing by deputy ; and 
 reckoned upon having Cortes sent back to St. Jago as a 
 prisoner, upon some frivolous pretext, before the fleet left 
 Cuba. How absurd his policy was, is manifest from what 
 followed. 
 
 The fleet arrived in a few days at Trinidad. Cortes had 
 several particular friends in this town, who gave him a hearty 
 reception. Here he again erected his standard, and made 
 a proclamation inviting volunteers. He was joined by 
 many cavaliers of good birth, who contributed from their 
 estates provisions and other necessaries, and by a hundred 
 soldiers from Trinidad and the town of Santa Spiritu. It 
 was difficult to obtain horses ; and those which could be 
 procured were bought at a dear price. A vessel arriving 
 with a cargo of provisions, the owner enrolled himself 
 under Cortes, who bought the ship and her lading on credit. 
 The enemies of Cortes at St. Jago continued to work upon 
 the mind of Velesquez ; and even employed a crazy astro 
 loger named Juan Millan to predict the revenge which the 
 captain-general would take for former grudges. They 
 hinted at a secret treaty between him and the secretary 
 and treasurer ; and urged his abrupt departure, as an 
 evidence of what his future course would be. Velasquez 
 may have been glad to listen to these suggestions by way of 
 finding pretexts for what he desired to do. At any rate r 
 his indecision was brought to a close, and he despatched 
 two confidential persons to Trinidad with orders to Fran 
 cisco Verdugo, the alcalde mayor of that town, who was 
 his brother-in-law, to divest Cortes of his command, and take 
 from his control the fleet and troops, announcing that he 
 had been superseded, and that Visco Porcallo had been 
 appointed in his stead. Diego de Ordas, and the immediate 
 friends and connexions of the governor, received private 
 orders to the same effect. But Cortes was not unprepared 
 
56 HISTORICAL NOTICE OF 
 
 for this message. He had a large and well-appointed 
 body of men around him, eager to serve under him, and 
 sufficient to overawe the few who were attached to the 
 governor's interest, or might be inclined to respect his 
 authority. Cortes chose, however, to put in requisition his 
 talents of persuasion. Diego de Ordaz was induced by him 
 to represent to the alcalde the danger of attempting to exe 
 cute the order by force. Verdugo had good sense enough 
 himself to see the folly of such a measure, even if he had 
 been inclined to carry it into effect. This he communicated 
 by letter to the governor, as did also Diego de Ordaz and 
 others. Cortes wrote to him too, in a courteous and sub 
 missive strain, expressing his attachment to him and his 
 interests, and his surprise at the steps he had taken; entreat 
 ing him not to listen to the calumnies of his rivals, or to the 
 ravings of a madman. One of the messengers who had 
 brought the order, returned with these despatches. The 
 other remained and enrolled himself under Cortes. We 
 have no right to suppose that Cortes did not intend to keep 
 strict faith with Velasquez at the time when he received his 
 appointment. But after all the jealousy and doubts of his 
 fidelity, which had been so poorly disguised, and this 
 attempt to take from him all participation in an enterprise 
 in which he had invested all his property, and to further 
 which he had pledged his credit to the uttermost, and 
 involved his friends and their fortunes with him, it is not to 
 be supposed that he felt conscientiously scrupulous as to 
 the rights of the governor. 
 
 He now gave orders for the fleet to sail to the Havana. 
 The smiths of Trinidad were busily employed in the inter 
 mediate time in making arrow heads for the cross-bows, and 
 other necessary implements. They accompanied the expedi 
 tion. Pedro de Alvarado, with fifty men under his command, 
 proceeded to the Havana by land, in order to take the horses 
 there, and receive some expected volunteers. Juan de Es- 
 calante sailed to that port in the vessel under his command, 
 
HERNAN CORTES. 57 
 
 by a northern route ; while Cortes with the fleet took the 
 southern direction. Alvarado and Escalante arrived safely* 
 as did all the other ships of the fleet, except that in which 
 Cortes had embarked. This vessel parted from the others 
 during the night after they sailed, and had not since beert 
 seen. For seven days the adventurers remained in great 
 anxiety, fearing that the missing ship had been lost on the 
 shoals called the Gardens, A proposition was made and 
 agitated to elect a new commander. Diego de Ordaz 
 urged this measure very strenuously ; expecting, it is said,- 
 that the choice would fall on him* on account of his enjoying 
 the confidence of the governor. But on the eighth day* 
 Cortes arrived. The ship, which was one of the heaviest 
 burthen, had in fact struck upon a shoal* and been got off 
 by lightening her cargo. The captain-general and his forces 
 were received with distinguished honour and hospitality by 
 Pedro Barba, lieutenant of Velasquez at the Havana. At 
 his house Cortes took up his quarters ; displayed his stand 
 ard before the door, and beat up for volunteers. Many 
 gentlemen and soldiers joined him. Finding that Diego de 
 Ordaz had manifested symptoms of a want of attachment td 
 his interests, and that his presence might prove dangerous 
 under existing circumstances, he despatched him in one of 
 the barks to Guanicano, a small settlement round Cape An 
 ton, directing him to procure provisions there, of bread and 
 bacon, and wait until the arrival of the fleet, or till further 
 orders. He then caused his artillery to be drawn on shore 
 and put in order ; the arms and equipments to be inspected, 
 and the horses to be examined and taken care of. He exer 
 cised the soldiers every day with great diligence, in the man 
 agement of their arms and in all the military evolutions ; 
 regulated his own family, and enforced the strictest disci 
 pline. The neighbouring country yielded abundance of 
 cotton ; and the soldiers provided themselves with jackets 
 of that material ; which, being well quilted between pieces 
 of linen cloth, was said to be a more effectual defence 
 
 VOL. I. H 
 
58 HISTORICAL NOTICE OP 
 
 against the arrows of the Indians than the ordinary kind of 
 armour. When these preparations were nearly completed f 
 a messenger named Garnica arrived at the ,Havana, bear 
 ing peremptory despatches from the governor to his lieu^ 
 tenant Pedro Barba, commanding him to arrest Cortes and 
 send him to St. Jago under a strong guard ; and to detain 
 the fleet and forces until further orders. Letters were also 
 brought of the same purport, to Diego de Ordaz and Velas 
 quez de Leon, entreating them to assist in carrying the order 
 into effect. The former, as we have mentioned, had been 
 previously sent away. Solis, and those who have followed 
 him, are in error in saying that it was afterward. Cortes 
 was apprized of the object of Garnica's mission as soon as 
 the governor, if not before him ; for the messenger brought 
 with him letters from a friar of the order of Mercy, to the 
 chaplain of the expedition, Bartolome de Olmedo, of the 
 same order ; and it is supposed that the secretary and treas 
 urer* also took occasion to give timely notice of the tidings, 
 Cortes communicated the intelligence to his officers and 
 men. A great tumult ensued^ and they all vowed to support 
 their captain-general, in defiance of the governor and his- 
 lieutenant. Velasquez de Leon himself was dissatisfied 
 with the mandate, and took the same side with the troops. 
 In the midst of their indignation, Pedro Barba came among 
 them, and assured them he had no intention of offering to 
 enforce his instructions. The messenger returned with 
 documents similar to those sent back from Trinidad on a 
 like occasion, the lieutenant assuring the governor that any 
 attempt to arrest Cortes would only occasion the town to be 
 sacked, and its inhabitants to be carried off in the fleet. 
 Cortes also wrote as before, professing his devotion to Ve 
 lasquez, and regretting that his enemies should so misrepre 
 sent his motives and actions. But it is obvious that he 
 thenceforth considered himself absolved from the tie of obe 
 dience to the capricious governor. What respect he may 
 have meant to pay to the rights of the latter in the vessels 
 
MBRNAN CORTES. 59 
 
 * 
 
 m 
 
 and property which he had purchased in the first instance 
 at his own expense, and in the profits of the expedition 
 according to the agreement between them, he probably left 
 to be developed by circumstances as we shall also do. 
 
 Not deeming it prudent to delay his departure longer, the 
 whole fleet sailed on the ensuing day, being the 10th of Feb 
 ruary, 1519, for the island of Cozumel. The experienced 
 Alaminos acted as chief pilot, in which capacity he had 
 sailed before with Cordova and Grijalva. A solemn mass 
 was celebrated before departing ; and St. Peter, whom 
 Cortes had always invoked as the patron of his undertakings, 
 was named as presiding over the destinies of the armada. 
 The armament consisted of eleven vessels, the largest of 
 100 tons, three of from 70 to 80 tons, and the rest of smaller 
 size and without decks. On board were five hundred and 
 eight soldiers, and a hundred and nine seamen and artizans. 
 Each ship contained a company under the command of its 
 captain, who commanded the vessel at sea, and the com 
 pany on shore. Only thirteen soldiers were armed with 
 muskets, and thirty-two with cross-bows ; the rest had 
 swords and spears. The train of artillery consisted of ten 
 small field-pieces and four falconets. There were also six 
 teen horses, and some fierce dogs of Spanish breed. With 
 the past experience of their countrymen in their adventures 
 on the main, this force seems entirely inadequate to effect 
 the objects they had in view. Could they have known the 
 actual power of the Mexican empire, it must have seemed 
 to themselves a most Quixotic enterprise to undertake its 
 subjection. The disparity between their force and that 
 which might have opposed them, is infinitely greater than we 
 can find a parallel for in all history, taking it as it is handed 
 down to us. Had the twelfth Charles of Sweden over 
 turned the throne of the czars, the seeming disproportion 
 between cause and effect would not have been greater than 
 that exhibited in the instance of Cortes and Molenczoma, 
 the relative resources of each party being fairly weighed, 
 according to the evidence left upon record. 
 
GO HISTORICAL JfOTICE OP 
 
 Pedro de Alvarado was directed to proceed with the ship 
 commanded by him to Guanicanico, to join Diego de Ordaz, 
 and wait with him at Cape St. Anton, for the arrival of the 
 admiral and the rest of the fleet. A tempest arose during 
 the night subsequent to its setting sail, which rendered it 
 necessary for the vessels to part company. Pedro de Alva- 
 rado, a faithful soldier, but a landsman, left the control of 
 the vessel to his pilot, who, contrary to the instructions of 
 Cortes, proceeded to Cozumel, where the ship arrived two 
 days before the others. Alvarado's company marched to 
 the town of Cozumel,. which they found deserted by the 
 natives. Proceeding further, they saw the people flying 
 from their approach ; and, entering their settlements, they 
 found some fowls and other provisions, with idols, utensils, 
 and rude ornaments of debased gold. Returning with this 
 miserable booty, they took captive two males and a female, 
 who had. wandered from their tribe. Cortes arrived with 
 the fleet, including the ship of Diego de Ordaz, with which he 
 had fallen in ; and was extremely incensed, not only at the 
 neglect of his orders, but at the unauthorized inroad into the 
 country. He ordered the pilot Camacbo to be put in irons, 
 and solemnly reprimanded Alvarado for his imprudence and 
 assumption of authority, in what he had done. It was his 
 wish and policy to proceed by pacific measures, while they 
 could accomplish his object ; and this first disobedience of 
 orders certainly called for a more severe example, had it 
 been possible to hold the bonds of discipline as tight, at so 
 early a period of the enterprise, and among such a high- 
 spirited band of adventurers, as the nature of the service 
 required. He ordered the property to be restored through 
 the captives whom he released ; and the interpreter, Mel- 
 chor (an Indian captured in Cordova's expedition), was 
 directed to tell them to call back their fugitive countrymen, 
 with assurances that they would not be harmed. Presents 
 of beads and trinkets, and a shirt to each of them, satisfied 
 them so well, that on their representation the chief of the 
 place with the inhabitants returned the next day, and amoft 
 

 1 * * 1 
 
 amicable nuttfripiiai mil commerce en 
 and me Spaniards. Cartes, wbiie at 
 oAer specimen of the sort of discipline he 
 by causing seven sailors to be severely flogged, who bad 
 stealing bacon. The whole forces 
 with, their 
 
 Sobs, after the manner of the 
 good speech for Cortes on ton 
 baps bare been delivered to 
 style Tery different from that of the 
 m the following letters. Itisa 
 theless. Before departing from 
 good fortone to acquire a valuable auxiliary, in the 
 ing -way. Having heard from those who sailed with Cor 
 dova, that the Indians of Cotoche. the nortfaern point of 
 Yucatan, frequently made use of the 
 
 for which the Spaniards could not 
 tiK* native COBCBI MIMWI the subieety and 'was 
 by some of the natives who were traveifing for ike 
 purpose of barter, that there were two Spaniards at a place 
 about toiii 1 leagues from C/otocne wlrfun tnev "^wi ^^^n and 
 conversed with a. few days before. Cortes 
 despatched two K^it vessels wefl 
 
 .of Diego de Ordaz, with letters to his countrymen and 
 beads to pay for their redemption. The Indians who gave 
 the information went along : and the fetters in two days 
 were delivered to Jeronimo de Aguilar, one of the captives. 
 Be had been ordained a deacon in the 
 
 eight years before, with 
 
 from Dahento St. Domingo. They took to 
 and were driven by the current on the coast of 
 Yucatan, where they were made prisoners, and some of 
 them sacrificed. INsease aiid ill-usage had carried off ai 
 the others except Agnflar and a man named Guerrero, who 
 had married and adopted the Indian mode of fiviag. 
 latlfci iifaatd to leave hia wife and children; bat 
 
 
62 HISTORICAL NOTICE OF 
 
 joyfully received the messengers, and his Indian master 
 accepted the proffered ransom. His deliverance, however, 
 came near being defeated ; for Ordaz having waited during 
 eight days according to his orders, and hearing nothing of 
 the messengers, returned to Cozumel, much to the vexation 
 of Cortes. When ihe fleet put back, from a cause here 
 after to be mentioned, Aguilar crossed the gulf in a boat, 
 with the Indian messengers, and was taken on board. His 
 complexion had become so .altered, and his habits were so 
 like those of the natives, that his countrymen at first could 
 not distinguish him. He was squalid and nearly naked ; 
 but had preserved the tatters of a book of prayers, which 
 were tied under his shoulders. He proved of essential and 
 indeed indispensable service, having learned in Yucatan 
 the lengua Maya, currently spoken in those countries, by 
 which he was enabled to act as interpreter. While at Coz 
 umel, Cortes took a step calculated to affront the natives, 
 which seems, at first, inconsistent with his reproof of Alva- 
 rado. He attended with many of his followers at a reli 
 gious ceremony of the natives, performed in one of the rude 
 temples of the island, decorated with uncouth and grotesque 
 images. An old priest ascended to x the summit of the tem 
 ple, and harangued to the Indians. Cortes, after a few 
 brief inquiries from Melchor as to the purport of the sermon, 
 interrupted the ceremonies, and expostulated with those offi 
 ciating, and with the audience, on the folly of their idolatry. 
 Through the medium of an interpreter, and under the excite 
 ment of the moment, his exposition of the merits of his own 
 creed must have been truly edifying. The Indians, however, 
 are said to have replied, in a spirit of philosophic reasoning, 
 at least as profound as that of Jean Jaques Rousseau, that 
 their ancestors had always observed this religious ritual, 
 and lived comfortably under it : adding, that if they pros 
 trated their temples, the gods of the violated sanctuaries 
 would forsake and destroy them. By way of showing 
 them what their gods were worth, Cortes directed his fol- 
 
HERNAN COllTES. 63 
 
 lowers to tumble them from their elevations, and break them 
 to pieces. Indian masons were procured to build with 
 stone and mortar an extemporary altar and chapel. The 
 cross and an image of the Virgin were erected ; and mass 
 was performed ; to which the Indians listened with great 
 decorum and gravity. Cortes was no hypocrite. He be 
 lieved in the efficacy of the symbols and sacraments of his 
 church, even among these pagans, who only saw one figure, 
 strange to them, substituted for others with which they were 
 familiar. We cannot, without distorting historical evidence, 
 and avoiding the plain conclusions of good sense and com 
 mon reason, believe that the indignation of the conqueror 
 at the sight of idolatrous worship in temples stained with 
 human sacrifices, was affected, and assumed for politic pur 
 poses. His plain policy was to conciliate the natives and 
 win their confidence ; leaving them, at the same time, under 
 a due sense of the puissance of Spanish valour and disci 
 pline, and of the extraordinary engines of destruction which 
 could be used against them. And this policy he uniformly 
 followed. The abrupt prostration of temples and images 
 was impolitic, and prompted by sheer enthusiasm. And yet 
 there is no point on which the memory of Hernan Cortes 
 has been more assailed, by writers of different creeds, and 
 of no creed at all, than this. In his whole career as a con 
 queror, he was a persevering Iconoclast ; and, as will be 
 seen from his letters, resistance often ensued on the part of 
 the Indians, which led to the shedding of blood. Let us 
 therefore despatch this reproach against him here, as we 
 think may be done, with brevity. The rigid and the liberal 
 Catholic will justify or find an apology for his zeal. He was 
 superstitious ; but the wisest and greatest of men have 
 laboured under the same excess or weakness of feeling, 
 whichsoever it may be, or ought to be termed. Pious 
 Protestants must not throw the first or- the la&t or any 
 stone at Cortes, for they will be referred to the history of 
 their own doings ; from the burning of Servetus by John 
 
64 HISTORICAL NOTICE OF 
 
 ittj to the shooting of poor Indians like wild beasts in 
 swamps and morasses, as " pestilent heretics ;" the roasting 
 of poor Quakers and Baptists as schismatics ; and the hang 
 ing and drowning of poor crazy old women as witches, by 
 the enlightened puritan settlers in New-England. If the 
 philanthropist who disregards sects, in his love for the whole 
 family of man, be disposed to censure Cortes on this score, 
 it is a sufficient answer to him to say, that, on the most 
 moderate estimate, a thousand mangled carcasses of human 
 victims had been every year precipitated down the steps of 
 some of these temples, which the zeal of Cortes purified 
 with fire and sword, or levelled to their foundations. There 
 was therefore an immense saving of human life effected* 
 We mean to employ no sophistry in these suggestions, but 
 only to meet the several vituperators of Cortes with their 
 own weapons. He believed that his cause was good ; and 
 he certainly meant to make it such, by success, whether it 
 was so or was not. 
 
 The fleet sailed from Cozumel in the beginning of March* 
 but were obliged to return for a day or two to repair some 
 damages done to the ship of Juan de Escalante, which con 
 tained the bread. By this fortunate circumstance, as we 
 have before mentioned, the deacon Aguilar was enabled tcr 
 join the expedition. Few incidents occurred in this voyage 
 to Tabasco. The fleet arrived at the mouth of the river of 
 Grijalva on the 13th day of March. The smaller vessels 
 and boats only could ascend the river ; and in these the 
 troops proceeded to the level and marshy shore, disembark 
 ing about a league from the town. The borders of the 
 stream were filled with canoes containing armed Indians ; 
 and a numerous body, computed at 12,000 warriors, had 
 assembled at the town of Tabasco. Their demonstrations 
 Were hostile ; and they replied to the overtures of Cortes^ 
 made through Aguilar, by threatening death to all who 
 should attempt to approach their capital. It subsequently 
 appeared that the neighbouring nations had taunted them as 
 
HERNAN CORTES. 65 
 
 Cowards, for their amicable treatment of Grijalva ; and that 
 they had collected their forces and those of their allies en 
 masse, being determined to repel their visiters. Cortes 
 made his dispositions accordingly. Dividing the artillery, 
 muskets, and cross-bows among the vessels, he directed 
 Alonzo de A vila to march with a hundred men, by a narrow 
 road leading from the point of Calmares, as the first place 
 of disembarkation was called by the Spaniards, towards the 
 town. The main body proceeded in the vessels to the 
 shore near it; and De Avila had instructions, when he heard 
 the firing of artillery, to attack the place on one side, while 
 Cortes was to assault it on the other. This was carried 
 into effect the next morning, after celebrating mass. As 
 the vessels approached the shore they were surrounded by 
 a countless number of canoes, filled with armed Indians, 
 shouting defiance, and sounding their trumpets, horns, and 
 rude timbrels. Cortes again caused it to be made known 
 to them, through the formality of a royal notary, that he 
 came only for a supply of wood and water ; and that they 
 must be responsible for the consequences of any violence 
 they might offer. The Indians, in reply, gave with their 
 drums, signals for an attack, closed upon the Spaniards, and 
 discharged their arrows and lances. The Spaniards fought 
 up to the middle in water ; and were embarrassed in their 
 progress by the deep mud on the shore, in which Cortes left 
 one of his buskins* Attaining the firm land, they drove the 
 enemy before them, who fell behind a circular stockade. 
 They were successively driven from this and the other bar 
 ricades and defences of their town. De Avila came up at 
 an opportune moment, having been retarded in his march by 
 marshes and other obstacles. The Indians retreated in 
 good order, parting the enemy ; but were compelled at 
 length to evacuate the last disputed post, which was a court 
 in the centre of the town, containing some large buildings 
 and temples, in which they had collected their effects. Here 
 the Spaniards halted, and Cortes, drawing his sword, took 
 
 VOL. I. 1 
 
66 HISTORICAL NOTICE OP 
 
 possession of the country for his majesty, with a ceremony 
 of his own device, declaring himself ready to defend it, with 
 the arms he then brandished, against all who should deny 
 the royal claim. No mention being made of Velasquez, 
 or his rights, in this chivalric flourish, the partisans of the 
 governor murmured in secret at the omission. In this affair 
 fourteen Spaniards were wounded, and eighteen Indians left 
 dead on the field. On the next day the interpreter Melchor 
 was missing, having deserted during the night, leaving his 
 clothes behind him. He joined the Indians ; and by his 
 representation of the small number of the invaders, induced 
 them to persevere in opposing them. It is said that he was 
 afterward sacrificed, in revenge for the discomfiture and 
 slaughter which his counsels occasioned. Cortes sent out 
 two bodies, of a hundred men each, to reconnoitre the 
 country for two leagues round the post. They were 
 attacked on all sides by large bodies of warriors, and com 
 pelled to retreat, with the loss of two men killed, and 
 eleven wounded. Those who remained in the town were 
 1 n the mean time fiercely assailed ; and a prisoner who 
 was taken that day informed Cortes, that by Melchor's 
 advice, he would be attacked both by day and by night. 
 He was sent to his countrymen with an amicable mes 
 sage ; but never returned. In addition to those wounded, 
 a number of the most active young men in the Span 
 ish force were unfit for service, from a debilitating sick 
 ness. Cortes sent the invalids on board the ships. He 
 brought the horses on shore, and assigning them to the most 
 skilful riders among his officers and soldiers, took the com 
 mand of the small body in person. On the 25th of March 
 the whole force sallie<l from the town ; and in the plains of 
 Centla, distant about a league, they met the army of the 
 Indians, covering the ground as far as the eye could reach, 
 well appointed according to their military fashion, and ad 
 vancing with great fury. Seventy soldiers were wounded 
 by the first discharge of their missiles. They closed up, and 
 
HERNAN CORTES. 67 
 
 fought hand to hand, yielding very little ground at any time 
 during the engagement. Whenever a cannon was fired 
 they raised a deafening shout, closing their dense masses 
 around the range of the ball, and throwing up dust into the 
 air, to conceal the loss they had sustained. At length, 
 Cortes, who had made a circuit for the purpose, suddenly 
 attacked them with the cavalry in the rear. Not expecting 
 this assault, and bent only on fighting those in front, a com 
 plete route soon ensued. The horsemen rode through them 
 as they pleased ; and the information Melchor had given 
 does not appear to have removed the terror which the sight 
 of these strange animals naturally inspired. Thanks were 
 given, under a grove of trees on the field of battle, to God 
 and the Virgin, for the victory. A town was afterward 
 built on the spot, called Santa Maria de Victoria, in honour 
 of the day, which was that of our Lady, and of the occa 
 sion. This town was deserted during the middle of the last 
 century. The Spaniards bound up their wounds and 
 those of the horses, using the fat of Indians for ointment 
 Two of their number only were killed in the battle. They 
 found on the field upwards of eight hundred of the enemy 
 dead or dying. Five prisoners were taken, two of whom 
 seemed to be principal men. Cortes treated them kindly, 
 and sent them, with presents of beads *and trinkets, to their 
 countrymen. The result was, that after some little nego 
 tiation, in which Cortes preserved a politic show of anger, 
 to enhance the value of the peace he was desirous to estab 
 lish, the principal chiefs of the vicinity waited on Cortes 
 with great humility. They approached him with the rev 
 erence they paid to their gods, throwing up incense from 
 their censers ; endeavoured to assign excuses for the hostile 
 reception they had given him, and besought him to receive 
 them into his friendship. They brought presents of gold, 
 wrought in the form of different animals and objects, with 
 mantles of cotton and feathers. Their most acceptable 
 offering seems, however, to have been twenty female slaves, 
 
68 HISTORICAL NOTICE OP 
 
 whom the Spaniards were well content to take. Among 
 them was the celebrated Dona Marina, as she was called 
 afterward, at her baptism, or malintzin, as it was pro 
 nounced by the Mexicans. She was a native of Painala, in 
 the Mexican province of Coatzacualco. Her father was a 
 great chief; but having left her mother a widow, the latter 
 intermarried with another tributary noble, by whom she had 
 a son. In order that the whole inheritance might devolve 
 upon him, the daughter was sold to certain merchants who 
 came from the vicinity of Tabasco, and it was given out 
 that she had died. She was brought up among the Tabas- 
 queses, and understood, in addition to her native Mexican 
 tongue, the lengua Maya, spoken in Yucatan and Tabasco, 
 Her quick intelligence enabled her to acquire, in a short 
 time, a sufficient knowledge of the Spanish to act as inter 
 preter, with the aid of Aguilar. She is described as a very 
 handsome, high-spirited woman. She remained through 
 life constant in her fidelity to the Spaniards and in her per 
 sonal attachment to Cortes. The important services she 
 was able to render are recorded by him. After the baptism 
 of herself and her companions on the ensuing day, Cortes 
 gave one of them to each of his captains. Dona Marina 
 was presented to Alonzo Puertocarrero. When he went to 
 Old Castile, not long after, Cortes took her to himself, and 
 she had a son by him. Much romance is mixed with her 
 subsequent history, to which we shall pay no attention. 
 What has been stated, and may be mentioned in its proper 
 place of this interesting -woman, is vouched for by Bernal 
 Diaz with the solemnity of an abjuration and an amen. 
 Cortes remained five days after this baptism, which accom 
 panied other religious rites, at Tabasco. The chieftains 
 acknowledged the king of Castile as their sovereign, and 
 were exhorted to maintain their allegiance. A supply of 
 provisions being obtained, the fleet sailed for St. Juan de 
 Ulua, on the morning after Palm Sunday, and arrived at 
 that port on the evening of Holy Thursday. As they sailed 
 
HERNAN CORTES. 69 
 
 along the coast, those who had accompanied Grijalva pointed 
 out to Cortes the rivers, mountains, and points of land to 
 which they had given magnificent names on their former 
 voyage. Cortes encouraged their enthusiasm ; praying for 
 the fortune in arms of the Paladin Rolan, with which, and 
 with such soldiers as he commanded, he assured them he 
 would conduct the enterprise to glorious results. 
 
 ,As the fleet, having arrived off San Juan de Ulua, was 
 passing between the islands and the shore, two large canoes 
 or piraguas were seen approaching, which advanced near 
 the admiral's ship without any signs of timidity. The 
 Indians within them began addressing the Spaniards in a 
 language which was new to them, and which their inter 
 preter, Aguilar, did not understand. Doiia Marina, how 
 ever, did. They spoke in the Mexican tongue ; and she 
 communicated the purport of what they said to Aguilar, 
 in the language of Yucatan, who again rendered it into 
 Spanish. Cortes was so overjoyed at possessing even this 
 circuitous means of conferring with the Indians, that he 
 considered it a visible interposition of Providence in his 
 favour. The Indians were received on board, and stated 
 that they were sent by the governor, a servant of the great 
 Mbtenczoma, to inquire whither they were bound, and to 
 supply them with any provisions or necessaries of which 
 they might be in want. The story of some of the old 
 writers, that the advance of the fleet was perceived from 
 the distant mountains of Tochtlan and Mictlan, and com 
 municated to the capital by means of the couriers, in time 
 for an order to arrive from court to the governor, before 
 Cortes entered the harbour, is utterly incredible, on account 
 of the distance of the places asunder. But it is by no means 
 doubtful, that the governor of Motenczoma had general 
 instructions how to act in case of the arrival of the 
 Spaniards, which was anticipated with so much panic. 
 Cortes received these messengers with great courtesy, made 
 them a present of cut glass and other toys, and entertained 
 
70 HISTORICAL NOTICE OF 
 
 them with European wines. He informed them that he 
 came in perfect amity, to visit the people of the country, 
 and traffic with them for its productions ; with which answer 
 they returned to the governor. On the ensuing day, the 
 cavalry, infantry, and artillery were disembarked ; tempo 
 rary barracks constructed on the sandy soil of the coast, 
 and an altar erected. In this labour they were materially 
 assisted by the natives, who brought hatchets with which 
 they cut stakes, which they drove into the ground, and 
 erected huts with great dexterity and rapidity. They took 
 particular pains with that designed for Cortes. They also 
 brought cotton cloths to shelter the Spaniards from the 
 sun, and presents of gold, fowls, bread, and fruit. They 
 gave information that the governor would wait in person 
 upon Cortes : and it was gathered from them, that this 
 country was a recent acquisition of the Mexican empire ; 
 that the General Teuhtile was extending his conquests with 
 a large force, while the civil government was entrusted to 
 Cuitalpitoc, who had a large retinue of officers and servants 
 with him. Accordingly, on the day of the feast of the 
 Resurrection, these nobles visited Cortes with great state, 
 accompanied by a long train of followers, bearing loads of 
 provisions, and baskets containing presents. Cortes re 
 ceived them with much ceremony, surrounded by his prin 
 cipal captains. They made three several obeisances, after 
 which he advanced to meet them ; and, conducting them 
 with great gravity to the principal barrack, mass was per 
 formed. He directed the interpreters to communicate to 
 them, that this religious office was a proper preliminary to 
 entering upon business, and to entreat Providence for a 
 happy issue to their conference. We shall refer with all 
 possible brevity to the events which ensued between this 
 period and that at which the narrative by Cortes himself 
 commences. They are related with few variations in all 
 the common popular works. Cortes, after mass had been 
 said, and the ambassadors or governors had partaken of a 
 
HERNAN CORTES. 71 
 
 banquet with him, informed them that he came from a great 
 king, whose court was far distant beyond the sea, and who 
 had heard of the fame of their monarch Motenczoma. That 
 he was commissioned by him to wait on Motenczoma, 
 whom he must see, as he had matters of importance to dis 
 close to him. Teuhtile, upon hearing this, is said to have 
 expressed very plainly his surprise that Cortes, who had 
 just touched the shore, should talk of seeing the distant and 
 powerful emperor. He, however, begged him to accept a 
 present of gold, wrought in different fashions, with speci 
 mens of the richest manufactures of the country, and said 
 that he would immediately cause his desire to be commu 
 nicated to Motenczoma. A number of native painters were 
 present, who took copies of what most struck them in the 
 camp, and, as is said, accurate likenesses of the counte 
 nances of Cortes and several of his attendants. These 
 were sent to Mexico with some trifling presents, the best 
 Cortes had to offer. Motenczoma's panic increased with 
 the tidings brought by his couriers. In the weakness of his 
 judgment he sought to win the Spaniards from their pur 
 pose by richer presents, which only whetted their curiosity, 
 ambition, and cupidity. They were brought, after a lapse 
 of only seven days, to the encampment. A train of a hun 
 dred men carried them, and deposited them on cotton cloths 
 at the feet of Cortes, whom the ambassadors approached 
 with salutations of the deepest reverence, touching the earth 
 with their hands, and kissing them, and fumigating him 1 
 with their vessels of incense. The purport of their answer 
 was, that Motenczoma would rejoice to see their emperor;- 
 and entertain friendly relations with him ; but that the jour 
 ney to his court was attended with difficulties ; lay over' 
 bad roads beset by enemies ; and that he did not wish the 
 Spaniards to attempt it. Cortes received this message with' 
 placidity ; accepted the magnificent present with grateful 
 acknowledgments, and gave the ambassadors such speci 
 mens of European manufacture as he could spare. He 
 

 72 HISTORICAL NOTICE OF 
 
 then reiterated his purpose, and his request that he might 
 visit the monarch in his capital ; stating that he Lad come 
 from a vast distance over the ocean with this principal object, 
 and that the king his master would be grievously offended, 
 should he return without effecting it. The ambassadors, 
 after in vain remonstrating against this determination, 
 repaired a second time to court ; and after a lapse of some 
 days, again returned from the infatuated sovereign with 
 the richest presents he could command ; but with a posi 
 tive notice that all conference as to further intercourse with 
 Mexico must cease. He had consulted his gods with daily 
 sacrifices of human victims; and the answers of his priests 
 corroborated the suggestions of his own terrors. Instead 
 of .taking active measures to drive the invaders from his 
 shores, he remained trembling in his capital and collecting 
 his forces around it ; leaving the distant and dissatisfied 
 provinces on the gulf open to the intrigues of the strangers. 
 When this last reply was delivered to Cortes, after politely 
 thanking the ambassadors for the gifts they brought, he 
 turned to some of his followers and observed, "Truly, this 
 is a great and rich monarch ; by God's blessing we must 
 see him." He caused the Mexican nobles and their train 
 to be enlightened by a lecture from Fra. Bartolome, on 
 the Catholic faith and its ordinances ; and they were pre 
 sented by the latter with an image of the Virgin, with the 
 infant Jesus in her arms. On the morning following this 
 performance, all the Mexicans were found to have departed 
 from the vicinity of the encampment, and no traces of them 
 were to be discovered. 
 
 We must now consider Cortes as having taken an 
 independent stand* Though the commission to Velas 
 quez had not -arrived when he left Cuba, and though his 
 own, on being examined narrowly by those who had sup 
 posed him invested with plenary powers, directed him to 
 return after procuring as much gold as he could, he 
 was now professedly attempting conquests, as the direct 
 
I1ERNAN CORTES. 73 
 
 lieutenant of the King of Spain, and bent on subjecting 
 Motenczoma to his allegiance, though he had not yet 
 openly avowed that object to the natives. 
 
 There were much greater difficulties in his way, in the 
 accomplishment of his grand aim, than the smallness of his 
 own force, and the greatness of that of the Mexican empire* 
 The friends of Velasquez conceived that his rights were 
 entirely neglected ; despaired of gaining further advantages 
 at present ; and were resolute in requiring that the fleet 
 should return. Even before the last visit of the ambassa 
 dors, Cuitalpitoc, who remained near the Spaniards, to 
 superintend the supplying them with provisions (and, no 
 doubt, to watch their proceedings narrowly also), had 
 relaxed very much in his efforts to procure them food. 
 The few Indians who occasionally brought fowls to barter 
 for trinkets .and toys had learned to demand a much higher 
 price for them ; and the officers and soldiers subsisted 
 principally on such fish as could be procured by the mari 
 ners, whom they paid for their services with such bits of 
 gold as fell to their share, or were obtained by barter. As 
 the scarcity of food continued to increase, this mode of 
 purchasing 1 it became more general ; and the party of 
 Velasquez contended loudly that this manner of disbursing 
 the gold was a violation of the contract, by which it was to 
 be thrown into a common stock, under care of a treasurer, 
 and divided ; rendering his stipulated share to the governor 
 of Cuba. Cortes, who knew that the wants of the many 
 must prevail over the murmurs of a few, affected to yield 
 to the justice of these representations ; observing that he 
 had winked at what seemed a necessary infraction of the 
 agreement; but if the troops could procure food in any 
 other way, he would be better content. He accordingly 
 appointed a treasurer. Soon after the intercourse between 
 the Spaniards and Mexicans was broken off (how many 
 days after does not appear with certainty), five Indians 
 arrived at the camp from Cempoxla, a neighbouring town, 
 
 VOL. I. K 
 
74 HISTORICAL NOTICE OP 
 
 in the province of Totonaca. Three of them understood 
 the Mexican language ; and on their being brought to 
 Cortes, intimated that they had been sent by their cacique, 
 who was desirous of cultivating the acquaintance of such 
 brave strangers, but had been afraid of approaching him, as 
 he was a tributary of Motenczoma, of whose power he 
 stood in awe. Highly gratified by this prospect of acquir 
 ing allies, Cortes dismissed the messengers with presents, 
 and assurances that he would soon visit their chief; and if 
 he had even hesitated, as to a fixed perseverance in his 
 enterprise, the present prospect of support from the natives 
 themselves confirmed him in his purpose. It was expedient, 
 however, to let his conduct seem to grow naturally out of 
 circumstances, if possible ; and he contrived so admirably 
 to give to the measures which were taken the air of being 
 enforced by the exigency of the case and the will of the 
 majority, that it is impossible to prove the contrary from 
 the facts, as transmitted to us, by the fair rules of moral 
 evidence. But we are not disposed to give Cortes the 
 negative credit of merely availing himself of favourable cir 
 cumstances. He had the talent and the fortitude to con 
 trol them, when apparently adverse ; to design and to exe 
 cute what seemed to be the result of contingent causes not 
 under his influence. Whether he is to be esteemed as a 
 good or a bad man must depend on an impartial considera 
 tion of his actions, separately, and then in the aggregate. 
 As to his relations with his own government at this crisis, 
 it is sufficient to repeat what we have said, that the perse 
 cution of Velasquez, who had granted a commission without 
 authority, absolved Cortes from any other obligation to 
 him than the moral one of restoring his property ; and to 
 add, that the Emperor Charles V., in whose name Cortes 
 professed to act, sanctioned and applauded his proceedings 
 on the receipt of his despatches. Leaving these remarks 
 to be applied to the subsequent facts, we shall state them as 
 they occurred, without borrowing from others, or conjee- 
 
v HERN AN CORTES. 75 
 
 \ 
 
 turing for ourselves the motives of any party to the 
 transactions. 
 
 Francisco de Montejo, proceeding in two small vessels 
 along the coast, in quest of a more suitable site for a colony, 
 returned after ten or twelve days, recommending a place 
 called Quiabislan or Quiahuitztla, at about twelve leagues' 
 distance. Thither Cortes determined to advance ; but the 
 clamour of those who wished to return, stimulated by the 
 friends of Velasquez, became so loud, that he was corri- 
 pelled to assent, or to seem to assent, to their demands. He 
 professed himself ready to return. It was then that those 
 who were bent on pursuing the conquest, with the leading 
 men, among whom he had no doubt a confidential understand 
 ing, came to him and solemnly demanded to be led on by 
 him, " in the service of God and his majesty," requesting 
 him to assume the independent command, which they were 
 willing to confer on him, and uphold him in exercising. 
 After a little decent affectation of reluctance, Cortes ac- 
 eepted the proposition, and expressed himself, in animated 
 terms, ready to conduct them to wealth and glory. The 
 principal men were summoned to attend at an extraordinary 
 meeting, and elected a council and magistrates, in whom the 
 government of the colony was to be vested. At the first 
 meeting of this assembly Cortes requested to be admitted. 
 He entered with a respectful and reverential air; and 
 addressed the members at much length, and with much art. 
 He stated that he considered their body as now represent 
 ing the dignity and authority of the crown ; that the com 
 mission he held from the Governor of Cuba was a defective 
 one, and perhaps invalid : that he therefore desired to re 
 sign it, leaving it to their wisdom to elect a fitting com 
 mander, whom he was willing to follow, and to carry a 
 pike under, as a common soldier. He then laid the com 
 mission from Velasquez on the table ; kissed his truncheon, 
 and delivered it to the chief magistrate, and withdrew. He 
 had no reason to doubt what would be the result of the 
 
70 HISTORICAL NOTICE OF 
 
 deliberations of the council. His resignation was accepted ; 
 and he was appointed captain-general and supreme magis 
 trate. His commission was ordered to be made out as in 
 his majesty's name. Among the other provisions of this 
 arrangement, that which Bernal Diaz speaks of as the worst, 
 was the power given him to draw for himself one-fifth of 
 all the gold which might be collected, after deducting his 
 majesty's proportion. This privilege, which he exercised to 
 its full extent, led to disputes and litigation afterward ; but 
 it enabled him to preserve the attachment of his followers, 
 by actual donations or by promises, which he seemed to 
 have the means of fulfilling. He now, as the representative 
 of royalty, took on himself corresponding state, and ap 
 pointed his officers and household. The new town was 
 named Villa Rica de la Vera Cruz. The partisans of Ve 
 lasquez, who had witnessed these proceedings, without 
 being able to stop their progress, declared that they would 
 no longer remain under the command of Cortes, but would 
 return to Cuba. The general replied, that it was not his 
 wish to detain them against their inclinations. Some of 
 them, however, being turbulent, and not pacified with this 
 declaration, he caused five to be arrested, and put in irons ; 
 a measure of severity justified by the exigency of the case, 
 whether he was sincere or not in his profession. He de 
 tached a hundred men, principally of the faction of Velas 
 quez (whom it was politic thus to find employment for, and 
 to prevent from breeding sedition), into the adjacent coun 
 try, to procure provisions. Of these they obtained an 
 abundance, doing no other injury, by command of the gen 
 eral, to the inhabitants. They paid, however, no equiva 
 lent for them, and brought some prisoners back with them, 
 for detaining whom they had no pretence. Gold secretly 
 distributed, fair promises, and flattering advances won over 
 those who had clamoured about returning, to silence, if not 
 to allegiance. The five prisoners were released, and Cortes 
 determined to proceed to Cempoalla, in compliance with the 
 

 HERNAN CORTES. 77 
 
 chief's invitation. Quiabislan lay in the same route where 
 he contemplated establishing a settlement. The vessels 
 proceeded along the coast for that port,. while the army 
 marched in good order, and with every precaution, towards 
 Cempoalla. They had reason to doubt the faith of the To- 
 tonaques, and they were entering provinces tributary to the 
 Mexican emperor, contrary to his will. At three miles' 
 distance from Cempoalla they were met by an embassy, 
 consisting of twenty principal men, who brought a present 
 of the fruits of the country, and a greeting from the cacique, 
 who excused himself for not attending in person, on account 
 of his being exceedingly fat and unwieldy. The town was 
 large, and contained many handsome buildings. The Span 
 iards were hospitably received and entertained. A present 
 of gold was made to them, amounting in value to a thousand 
 dollars. The fat cacique enumerated to Cortes the wrongs 
 and grievances his people sustained under the tyranny of 
 Motenczoma ; the excessive tribute he exacted ; and his 
 requiring their daughters for his lust, and their sons to sac 
 rifice to his lust. Cortes extolled to him the power and 
 grandeur of his own monarch, and the valour of his fol 
 lowers, who, he said, did not fear this great emperor. He 
 professed himself willing to assist the cacique, and insinuated 
 that one of the objects of his mission was to redress griev 
 ances and put down oppression. 
 
 He proceeded the next day to Quiahuitztla, to meet his 
 vessels ; four hundred Indians carrying the baggage and pro 
 visions of the army. On entering the town, which was for 
 tified, and situated on a rock of difficult ascent, none of the 
 inhabitants appeared, until the Spaniards approached the 
 central part, in which the temples had been erected. Fifteen 
 persons, in rich mantles, then advanced to meet Cortes, 
 fumigated him with incense, and accounted for the absence 
 of the townspeople, from their timidity. The fat cacique 
 followed Cortes at a slower pace, and in several interviews 
 with him and the chiefs of the town, the complaints against 
 
78 HISTORICAL NOTICE OF 
 
 Motenczoma's cruelty were renewed. Cortes was much 
 pleased with the situation of the place, and determined to 
 establish there a fortified settlement, which purpose he acted 
 upon immediately. Huts were commenced, with such cir- 
 cumvallations as were sufficient to protect the occupants 
 from assault by an Indian army. The people of Cempoalla 
 and Quiahuitztla cheerfully lent their aid in constructing 
 them; and Cortes set an example of diligence by working 
 in person. 
 
 Just after the arrival of the Spaniards in this place, and 
 while conferences were going on relative to the Mexican 
 territory, news was brought, which threw the natives into 
 consternation, of the arrival of five collectors of tribute for 
 Motenczoma. These dignitaries were received with great 
 pomp, and escorted to their lodgings by the principal per 
 sons. In passing the quarters of Cortes, they did not deign 
 to cast a look on the Spaniards ; but, having commanded 
 the caciques to attend them, reprimanded them for receiving 
 and entertaining the strangers, contrary to the will of the 
 emperor. To expiate the offence, they demanded twenty 
 men and women, to be sacrificed to the gods. Cortes, on 
 being informed of these circumstances, through Dona Ma 
 rina, advised the caciques instantly to seize and incarcerate 
 the collectors, and hold them in durance until it could be 
 ascertained whether Motenczoma sanctioned their exac 
 tions, promising to protect them in adopting the measure. 
 The proposal was received with trepidation. Like the Mo 
 hawks of North America, these Mexican envoys (confident 
 from the terror which the remembrance of former chastise 
 ments and the name of their nation inspired) appeared 
 among the tributary nations unaccompanied by any armed 
 force ; and their advent occasioned such fearful submission 
 as might attend that of an avenging or malignant divinity. 
 But the presence of the Spaniards, or perhaps the awe felt 
 for them, fortified the wavering caciques. The five messen^ 
 gers were seized, and fastened in a sort of pillory, made 
 
IIERNAN CORTES. 79 
 
 of transverse staves and collars, in which they could not 
 change their position : and one of them, who made strenu 
 ous resistance, was compelled by blows to submit. 
 
 The Totonaques had thus passed the Rubicon ; and with 
 a spirit congenial to their savage habits and suddenly ac 
 quired audacity, proposed to sacrifice the prisoners. < To 
 prevent them from so doing, Cortes took them into his own 
 custody, and placed them under the guard of his own 
 soldiers. He had not yet committed himself so far with 
 these people as to pledge himself to support them against 
 the Mexicans, if they would shake off their yoke. His 
 policy was more far-sighted ; and the measures he adopted 
 in this crisis proved the extent of his sagacity. Consist 
 ency alone, however, forbade his countenancing this sacri 
 fice > for the main ground he had taken in urging the chiefs 
 to resist the demand of the collectors was, that the sacri 
 fice of human beings to idols was an abomination, in the 
 code of that true faith which he came, among other objects, 
 to invite them to accept. 
 
 He now played a double game with the prisoners and the 
 caciques. He caused two of the former to be liberated in 
 the middle of the night, and brought to his quarters. He 
 asked them, as if ignorant of the matter, whence they came, 
 and why they had been imprisoned. On their replying, he 
 told them he had not been apprized of the meaning of the 
 proceedings ; ordered food to be brought to them, and re 
 quested them to assure their sovereign that he wished 
 ardently to cultivate his friendship. He then sent them off 
 clandestinely in a boat, in which they were transported to a 
 point on the shore, beyond the district of Cempoalla. In the 
 morning, when the chiefs discovered their escape, Cortes 
 pretended to be much incensed at the negligence of his 
 guards, whom he reprimanded ; and directed that, for 
 better security, the other three collectors should be confined 
 on board of his vessels. There, however, they were imme 
 diately set at large, with a promise to send them on their 
 
80 HISTORICAL NOTICE OF 
 
 way home as soon as it could be done with safety. The 
 caciques, now finding that Motenczoma would speedily 
 be informed of the bold steps they had taken, expressed 
 their apprehensions of the result to Cortes. He assured 
 them that he had the power to support them, and enforced 
 his assertions by a display of the military skill of his troops, 
 and the novel exhibitions of their cavalry, artillery, and 
 arms. The caciques entered into a stipulation to support 
 him with all their powers, and declared allegiance to the 
 crown of Spain, with the solemnities used on such occasions, 
 before Diego de Godey, a royal notary. Proclamation to 
 this effect was made through the province, and the chiefs 
 from the neighbouring mountains came to Quiahuitztla in 
 rapid succession, to accede to the measure, and consult as 
 to those which it might be expedient to adopt in conse 
 quence. The erection of the town to which the name of 
 Vera Cruz was transferred went on with rapidity. It was 
 determined upon to commence the march towards Mexico 
 with the allied forces, as soon as the post should be estab 
 lished, and the preparations completed. The site of the 
 town was at the foot of the mountain Quiahuitztla, two miles 
 north of Cempoalla, and half a league from the former place, 
 lying between it and the sea. In the mean time Motenc 
 zoma had been duly informed by his active couriers of the 
 advance of the Spaniards to Cempoalla, and is said to have 
 formed a determination to set out against them in person, at 
 the head of a large army, when the arrival of his two col 
 lectors, released by Cortes, gave him another opportunity to 
 attempt to procrastinate, by his infatuated system of diplo 
 macy, the dangers which he so obviously apprehended. 
 Two of his nephews, accompanied by four old noblemen as 
 their counsellors, were despatched to the Spanish camp on 
 a peaceful mission, with a present worth some two thousand 
 dollars. While they were directed to thank Cortes for 
 having liberated the two tax-gatherers, and to state that, in 
 consequence of this act of civility, hostile measures had 
 
HERN AN CORTES. 81 
 
 been suspended, they were also instructed to complain of 
 his presence among the rebellious tributaries of Motenczoma, 
 which encouraged them to disobedience ; and to repeat the 
 old story, about the difficulties of the journey to Mexico, 
 and the unwillingness of the emperor to encourage any 
 further advance into his territories^ Cortes replied in the 
 evasive manner he had employed before ; complained of the 
 departure of Teuhtile and his coadjutor Cuitlalpitoc, as a 
 violation of the rites of hospitality ; professed his friendship 
 for the emperor, as an evidence of which he delivered to the 
 ambassadors the three collectors who had been taken care 
 of on board his ships, and sent a present of some worthless 
 and glittering baubles ; and renewed the assertion of his in 
 tention to proceed to the capital, to confer in person with 
 Motenczoma. With such consolation as the ambassadors 
 received from this response, they returned to their master ; 
 while the Totonaques, who had been anxiously observant 
 of the conferences, became confirmed in entertaining more 
 exalted ideas of the intelligence and power of their new 
 allies, who treated so familiarly the immediate representa 
 tives of the dreaded Mexican executive. They gave to the 
 Spaniards, in common parlance, the name of Teules, or 
 divinities. This reverential admiration was confirmed by 
 what seems to have been a sort of experiment of the Span 
 ish faith or puissance, by the caciques. They waited on 
 Cortes, and informed him that he had now a fair opportu 
 nity to prove his sincere friendship for them, by reducing a 
 Mexican garrison in Zimpacingo, a place distant two days' 
 journey, who were daily committing hostilities, and making 
 incursions into their territory. Cortes complied with the 
 request without hesitation, and marched with four hundred 
 of his own men and two thousand of his allies to the town of 
 Cimpacingo. On arriving there he found that the Mexican 
 garrison had retired on the arrest of Motenczoma's envoys ; 
 and that there was a feud between the people of this dis 
 trict and his allies, arising from an old dispute about bound- 
 
 VOL. I. L 
 
82 HISTORICAL NOTICE OF 
 
 aries, which had induced the caciques to make a misrepre 
 sentation to him. He had an opportunity, which he did not 
 fail to embrace, of reconciling the parties, preserving both 
 as his friends, and bringing the people of Cimpacingo under 
 allegiance. By way of atonement for the duplicity to which 
 he had been accessary, the fat cacique brought seven young 
 women to Cortes for the captains of his army, and his niece, 
 who was very ugly, but was proprietor of several towns, as 
 a present for Cortes himself. The general determined to 
 avail himself of his present advantage to effect a change in 
 the religious worship of the people. He told the chief that 
 the Spaniards could not accept these women in their unbap- 
 tized and heathen estate ; and explained to him at length the 
 leading tenets of the Catholic faith. The cacique, with the 
 principal chiefs and priests, protested that they could not 
 and dared not abandon the worship of their gods after their 
 own manner. Cortes became enraged, and getting his men 
 under arms, proceeded to the great temple, which was 
 smeared with the blood of human sacrifices. The priests 
 called out upon the people to defend their altars, and a body 
 of warriors were advancing to attack the Spaniards, when 
 Cortes directed the fat cacique and six other chiefs and 
 priests to be seized, and announced that if a single missile 
 was discharged they should be put to instant death. The 
 soldiers then, after some expostulation on the part of the 
 priests, mounted the steps of the temple, and hurled the 
 idols down them, by which they were broken to pieces. 
 As the thunder did not fall at this desecration, and their gods 
 were destroyed, the tumult was soon appeased ; and the 
 priests themselves assisted in throwing the fragments into 
 the flames. The temple was cleansed and the walls new 
 plastered. An altar was erected ih it, and mass performed. 
 An old soldier, named Juan de .Torres de Cordova, wha 
 was lame, volunteered to remain as its guardian ; and did 
 so, after -the- departure of the Spaniards. The' eight women 
 were baptized, and Cortes took the cacique's ugly niece by 
 
HERN AN CORTES, 83 
 
 the hand. The others were also taken by the different 
 captains, Puertocarrero being again fortunate enough to get 
 the handsomest. As these were all daughters of men of 
 distinction, the alliance with the Totonaques was more 
 effectually cemented by this ceremony. On returning to 
 Villa Rica, Cortes found a vessel from Cuba arrived in the 
 harbour, on board of which came Luis Marin, an able 
 officer, with ten soldiers and two horses, who joined the 
 army. From them information was received that Velas 
 quez had obtained from old Spain authority to trade and 
 colonize in the New World, with the rank of adelantado of 
 Cuba ; on learning which his partisans were much elated. 
 Cortes was also informed that the governor threatened ven 
 geance more loudly than ever against him. He found it 
 necessary therefore to state his own case to his sovereign ; 
 for which purpose a vessel was prepared immediately, and 
 Alonzo Puertocarrero and Francisco de Montejo were 
 named agents to carry the despatches to Castile. But being 
 aware that a mere pompous description of the wealth of 
 the country, and of the merit of himself and his followers, 
 would meet with little consideration if unaccompanied with 
 visible evidence of a substantial nature, he determined to 
 transmit to Spain all the gold which had been obtained in his 
 expedition. He exercised his wonderful address so effect 
 ually, with the co-operation of Diego de Ordaz and Fran 
 cisco de Montejo, who had great influence with the army, 
 that the soldiers consented without murmuring to relinquish 
 their shares in the treasure which they had won with so 
 much toil and danger. It was the richest present yet sent 
 from the New World. The contents of this first despatch 
 of Cortes are not known, except so far as he recapitulated 
 them in the beginning of the second Relacion. Robertson 
 mentions that he made diligent search for it, in Spain and 
 Germany, without success. The council of Vera Cruz, to 
 gether with some of the soldiers who were most anxious for 
 the colonization of New-Spain under Cortes as captain-gen- 
 
84 HISTORICAL NOTICE OF 
 
 eral, also wrote to the Spanish monarch, detailing the par 
 ticulars of their conquests, professing their devotion to his 
 service and that of the church, and soliciting the emperor 
 not to yield to the suggestions of the bishop of Burgos, the 
 patron of Velasquez. In order to invalidate the claims of 
 the latter, they represented the armaments under Cordova 
 and Grijalva as having been fitted out by the adventurers 
 who engaged in the expeditions, and not by the governor ; 
 and laboured to depreciate the services of those command 
 ers. They contended that the sole object of Velasquez was 
 barter, and not conquest ; and pretended that Cortes had 
 defrayed the greatest part of the expense of fitting out the 
 armament. They gave some account of what they had 
 seen and heard of the Mexican customs and institutions ; 
 and described particularly the horrible human sacrifices 
 which they had witnessed. They subjoined a catalogue and 
 description of the presents sent to the emperor. Such is 
 the substance of this letter, from an authenticated copy 
 which Robertson obtained from Vienna. Bernal Diaz says, 
 that Cortes requested permission to read this document, and 
 that, having done so, he expressed himself satisfied with ail 
 but two articles ; in which his own share of the treasure, 
 and the names of the preceding discoverers, were men 
 tioned. He adds, that when Cortes desired these parts 
 might be suppressed, there were not wanting persons to tell 
 him that the emperor ought to know the whole truth. But 
 as the main object of that part relating to the former dis 
 coverers was to sophisticate the truth, it is evident that 
 Bernal Diaz misunderstood the matter at the time, or that 
 his recollections were imperfect. 
 
 The vessel which bore these despatches sailed on the 
 26th day of July, 1519, with express instructions to proceed 
 directly to Seville. But these were directly violated. 
 Puertocarrero being sick, Montejo compelled the pilot, Ala- 
 minos, to touch at the Havana, on pretext of getting pro 
 visions from his estate ; and, as soon as the ship cast anchor, 
 
HERNAN CORTES. 85 
 
 he sent a sailor on shore with letters for Velasquez. The 
 messenger, as he went through the island, proclaimed every 
 where what had happened. The governor, in great rage, 
 sent two armed vessels in search of that which bore the des 
 patches of Cortes ; but they returned to St. Jago, with the 
 unwelcome tidings that she was far advanced in her voyage 
 to Europe. 
 
 Cortes now becomes his own historian ; and it is not our 
 province to pursue the narrative further. As a statement 
 of facts, all historians agree that his letters to the emperor 
 are entitled to the fullest credit. There were too many 
 jealous eyewitnesses of every transaction which he records, 
 for him to venture any material misrepresentations. He no 
 doubt frequently exaggerated the numbers of the Indian 
 armies which he encountered. There is, however, no rea- 
 
 ~ 
 
 son to suppose that this was done wilfully. The difficulty 
 of making any correct estimate in such cases is too obvious 
 to need dwelling upon ; and the discrepancy between all 
 the writers is so great, that little positive faith can be given 
 to any one statement. As to the motives assigned by Cortes 
 for his actions, they seem, in general, to be fairly stated. 
 The severity of his discipline was required from his perilous 
 position ; and if he had not treated the rebellious or treach 
 erous chiefs who had become subjects of Spain with the 
 same rigour, his own soldiers would not have submitted to 
 the sternness of his rule. There are some particular in 
 stances of cruelty which stained his reputation ; to which 
 we shall advert. 
 
 The second Relacion is dated from Villa Segura, Octo 
 ber 30th, 1520. It relates the history of the conquest from 
 the 15th August, 1519, when Cortes began his march from 
 Cempoalla, to his retreat to Tlascala, accomplished with dis 
 aster and loss. This period comprehends more vicissitudes, 
 and is more full of interesting events, than any other in the 
 life of Cortes; and, it may be added, than any of equal 
 length in the life of any man. The second Relacion, as 
 
86 HISTORICAL NOTICE OE 
 
 Cortes mentions in the commencement of the third, was not, 
 in fact, despatched from New-Spain until the 5th of March, 
 1521 ; owing to contrary winds, the loss of his vessels, and 
 inopportune occurrences. 
 
 In his third Relacion, which is dated May 15th, 1522, 
 from the city of Guyoacan, he recapitulates some of the 
 events narrated in the conclusion of the second ; and com 
 mencing with his departure from Tepeaea (or Villa Se- 
 gura, a name which it retained but for a short time), he 
 relates what transpired between that date and the rebuild 
 ing of Mexico, and arrival of Christoval de Tapia, which 
 took place a few weeks subsequently. The final conquest 
 of the great city of Mexico was effected on the 13th of 
 August, 1521. Between this date and that of the letter, 
 there occurred a circumstance, omitted by Cortes, which 
 ought to be referred to. This was the torturing of Quauh- 
 temotzin. The fact that this is not mentioned by Cortes 
 shows either that he was ashamed of not having been able 
 to prevent it, or had no plausible excuse to assign for per 
 mitting it. The former and more charitable conclusion will 
 be formed, if we take the testimony of Bernal Diaz as good ; 
 and he is at least an unprejudiced witness ; for in his ac 
 count of the subsequent fate of this unfortunate monarch, 
 he is not sparing of epithets expressive of his indignation. 
 The cruelty of the application of torture by fire, to extort 
 an important confession, which it was supposed the subject 
 had the power to make, cannot be urged against Cortes in 
 particular ; such being the common practice in the criminal 
 jurisprudence of the age. But if he had wantonly, or even 
 willingly, inflicted it on so illustrious a prisoner, whom he 
 had just received, according to his own account (which is 
 confirmed by all others), with so much kindness and re 
 spect, it would have left a blot on his memory through all 
 succeeding ages. And such has been, in effect, the impres 
 sion generally produced wherever the story of the conquest 
 has been read. The young and the old, shuddering with 
 
HERNAN CORTES. 87 
 
 detestation at this base, and horrible, and cowardly piece of 
 cruelty, have cursed Cortes in their hearts, with a generous 
 but undeliberated indignation. It is by no means evident 
 that he could have prevented this enormity. His authority 
 was submitted to in seasons of peril, because the rigour of 
 his measures was felt to be essential to the general welfare. 
 But an army, flushed with triumph, after so terrible and 
 procrastinated a siege as that of Mexico, expecting to be 
 rewarded with the discovery of treasures which would 
 make every private man rich ; and disappointed by real 
 izing only a pittance, which would not, according to the 
 rates of prices at the time, and on the spot, pay for a mus 
 ket ; such an army might naturally ascribe the refusal of 
 their leader to extort, in a mode not strange to them, inform 
 ation relative to immense sums of gold supposed to be se 
 creted, either to an affectation of humanity or to a design 
 to defraud them. Without more comment, however, we 
 proceed to the facts, not as stated by the apologists of Cortes, 
 but as they may be gleaned from the concurrent narratives. 
 From what the Spaniards had seen of the treasures of 
 Motenczoma on their former occupation of the capital, it 
 was supposed that a quantity of gold of great value must 
 still remain. Being disappointed in their expectations, as 
 has been mentioned, many accused Cortes, without hesita 
 tion, of having secreted part of the spoil for his own use* 
 Others alleged that the officers of the crown were con 
 cerned in the transaction, and had a good understanding 
 with the general. They threatened openly to forward their 
 complaints to the king. The royal officers harassed Cortes 
 with entreaties that he would adopt measures to exculpate 
 them from suspicion. The general demand was, that Quauh- 
 temotzin should be made to reveal where he had deposited 
 what remained of the treasures accumulated by the Mexi 
 can monarchs. A report was current that he had thrown? 
 the most valuable portion of them into the lake, four days 
 before his capture. Cortes resisted the proposition with 
 
88 HISTORICAL NOTICE OP 
 
 decided marks of disapprobation. The king's officers pro 
 tested that they had seen no more gold than what had been 
 produced, amounting, when melted and run into bars, to 
 only 380,000 crowns in value. The malecontents, and those 
 in particular who were inimical to Cortes, represented to 
 the treasurer Alderete, that Cortes wished to cheat both the 
 crown and the soldiers. Under these circumstances Cortes 
 left the degraded monarch to be dealt with by the ferocious 
 conquerors. Quauhtemotzin and one of his favourite 
 friends (or, according to Bernal Diaz, the king of Tacuba 
 or Tlacopan) were subjected to the torture* by anointing 
 their feet with oil, and exposing them to fire, according to 
 the practice of the Inquisition. Under this treatment the 
 companion of the monarch expired, casting in his last and 
 extreme agony an imploring look at his lord ; who is said 
 to have asked him reproachfully, " Am I reposing on 
 a bed of roses ?" or to have observed, as Herrera with 
 more probability records it, that " Tampoco el estaba en 
 deleite." Cortes then insisted upon the release of Quauh 
 temotzin, to whom he caused every attention to be paid ; 
 declaring that he would never have permitted such an in 
 dignity had it not been for the importunity and threats of 
 the treasurer Juan de Alderete, a creature of the bishop of 
 Burgos. It is but reasonable to suppose that some feeling of 
 respect for one who had been monarch of so great an em 
 pire, and much more, the obvious policy of keeping him 
 alive and in their power, restrained the tormentors of Quauh 
 temotzin in applying the question. He was, however, 
 made incurably lame. Bernal Diaz speaks of confessions 
 extorted from him and the prince of Tlacopan ; but he is 
 unsupported by other writers ; at any rate, no additional 
 gold was found in consequence of the proceeding. Such 
 seems to be an impartial representation of this affair. 
 
 In the third Rolacion Cortes states the manner in which 
 the object of the mission of Tapia was evaded. Through 
 the intrigues of the bishop of Burgos, this gentleman had 
 
HERNAN CORTES. 89 
 
 received a commission, empowering him to arrest Cortes* 
 Confiscate his effects, institute a strict scrutiny into his con 
 duct, and transmit to the Council of the Indies, of which 
 Fonseca was president, the result of his inquiries. But he 
 had neither talents, health, nor fortitude to execute the task, 
 if it had been possible so to do, as he soon found out him 
 self. Intimidation and bribery were so successfully em 
 ployed that he sailed, after a short time, for St. Domingo* 
 His coming rendered the transmission of the third Rela- 
 cion necessary. The arrival of the messengers which 
 carried -it to Spain, with the specimens of Mexican wealth 
 and ingenuity which they had in charge, created a great 
 sensation. The internal commotions of Spain were quieted* 
 Its cabinet had leisure to consider the importance of their 
 foreign acquisitions ; and though, from the discovery by Co 
 lumbus to the present day, when Spain is the most con* 
 temptible power in Europe, which preserves the shadow of 
 a legitimate king, the management of these possessions has 
 been only a series of blunders, there seems to have been 
 some sense in the measures adopted at this time. Over 
 looking whatever was irregular in the assumption of author 
 ity by Cortes, and disregarding the representations of the 
 bishop of Burgos, Charles V. appointed Cortes captain** 
 general and governor of New-Spain. 
 
 The fourth Carta de Relacion is dated Mexico, October 
 15th, 1524. It contains a narrative of the manner in 
 which the provinces of New-Spain submitted, voluntarily 
 or by compulsion, to the Spaniards, with the results of the 
 expeditions to the Pacific Ocean. Cortes, like the great 
 admiral, looked towards the discoveries in that direction 
 with better information, but not less sanguine hopes. One 
 event in this period requires notice, as it has given rise to 
 one of the heaviest charges against Cortes, as a monster of 
 cruelty. This is, the burning alive of many unfortunate 
 prisoners at Panuco, narrated in the twelfth section of the 
 letter. It has been asserted by some historians, that sixty 
 
 VOL. I. M 
 
90 HISTORICAL NOTICE OP 
 
 chiefs and- four hundred nobles were burnt to death by San-* 
 doval, with the approbation of Cortes, on this occasion, and 
 that their relations and countrymen were compelled to 
 witness the cruelty. From a consideration of the sentence 
 in which Cortes himself speaks of this matter, we should be 
 induced to believe that some oversight had occurred, either 
 in his own manuscript, or in the first print from it. He 
 says, " Senores y personal principales se prendieron hasta 
 cuatro cientos, sin otra gente baja, a los cuales todos, digo 
 a los principales, quemaron por justicia," &c. We are left 
 at a loss, from this statement, to know how many principal 
 men were burnt. It is a little singular that Robertson, who 
 professes to follow Cortes himself, as to matters of fact, in 
 his note to that part of his history relating to this transac 
 tion, should have made the statement mentioned above. It 
 is evident that he did not read, or did not understand, the 
 passage we have quoted. He admits that the statement of 
 B. de las Casas is a manifest exaggeration. Bernal Diaz 
 says nothing about the burning. Gomara seems to have 
 spoken of it as an act of faith ; and to have been desirous of 
 giving to it the pomp and ceremony of a religious exercise, 
 by lugging in the relatives of the parties who suffered, of 
 whom we hear nothing in other contemporary writers. We 
 can only, therefore, follow Herrera, who had the best 
 authorities before him, with no motives for sophisticating 
 tne truth, as to the number of individuals who were put to 
 death by burning. According to him, the lex talionis was 
 followed. According to him, the soldiers of Garay, scatter 
 ing from Santistevan, by the orders of Diego de Ocampo, 
 committed excesses which drew upon them the vengeance 
 of the Indians, who killed and ate four hundred Oastilians ; 
 and subsequently burnt in one night, in Tercetuco, fifty 
 infantry and fifteen horse, setting fire to the buildings in 
 which they were quartered, and giving them no opportunity 
 of escape. Sandoval arrived at Santistevan barely in time 
 to rescue the surviving Spaniards from death by hunger, or 
 
HERNAN CORTES. 
 
 inability to resist the enemy. Finding conciliatory mea 
 sures with the natives ineffectual, he divided his force into 
 three parts, and pursued them with fire and sword. Hav 
 ing captured a number of lords and inferior people, corres 
 ponding with that mentioned by Cortes, they were con 
 demned by regular process of law to be burnt. But on 
 communicating the sentence to Cortes, he directed that 
 thirty of the principal offenders only should suffer, in the 
 presence of the others, whose property should be given to 
 their heirs ; and that the rest should be pardoned, on taking 
 the oath of allegiance to the crown of Castile and Leon. 
 The alleged cruelty of this action, so far as Cortes is con 
 cerned, may be tested by taking a parallel case. What 
 general, in the present day, would have the hardihood to 
 pardon those who had been sentenced by a court-martial to 
 death, in a moment of extreme peril, when a terrible exam 
 ple was necessary, and a whole army was clamorous for 
 the infliction of the penalty ? There is one more action of 
 Cortes, subsequent in point of time to the date of his fourth 
 letter to the emperor, which demands notice. - It is that 
 which an apologist for his life would most desire to omit, or 
 pass over without commentary. During Lent, in 1525, the 
 unfortunate Quauhtemotzin, who had long followed Cortes, 
 like a captive in the train of a victor, though his former 
 subjects still retained for him the personal reverence felt by 
 the Mexicans for their monarchs, was ignominiously 
 hanged, together with the caciques of Tezcuco and Tlaco- 
 pan. In the course of the expedition of Cortes to Hondu 
 ras, in search of the armament under Francisco de las 
 Casas, whom he had sent to chastise Christoval de Olid, in 
 a region with which he was utterly unacquainted, with en 
 emies around him, and treachery in his camp, and with an 
 army who were actually in a starving - condition, Cortes 
 found himself, after all his conquests, on the brink of de 
 struction, and in jeopardy of losing ingloriously the fruits of 
 his perseverance and valour. He had left the city of Mexico 
 
02 HISTORICAL NOTICE OF 
 
 under the charge of those in whose fidelity hehad good 
 reason to believe he could not confide under adverse cir 
 cumstances. He had taken with him the dethroned mon 
 arch and the chiefs who shared his fate, to prevent an insur 
 rection in the capital during his absence, and to secure the 
 assistance of the Mexicans who accompanied his march. 
 At the crisis we have spoken of, Metztlhicahtlin, a confidant 
 of the princess, disclosed to Cortes a plot which seems to 
 have been concerted with some deliberation, and with a par 
 tial prospect of success. It was, to take advantage of the 
 Spaniards in their helplessness and necessity, to cut them 
 all off, to make a common cause with all the natives, and 
 having destroyed Gortes and his immediate force, to return 
 to Mexico and exterminate the Spaniards remaining there, 
 and restore Quauhtemotzin to the throne of his ancestors. 
 It would have been nobly resolved on the part of the con^ 
 spirators, if they had had the power and courage to effect, 
 and the wit to conceal it until the ripe moment. It could 
 not have prevented the subjection of Mexico and its depend* 
 encies, but it might have proved fatal to Cortes, and to his 
 title of Conquestador. The Mexicans devoted to their king 
 exceeded in number 3000 armed men, being as twenty to 
 one of the Spaniards. The plan of the conspirators was to 
 fall on the Spaniards at some difficult pass, or the passage 
 of some river. The ten persons who were first privately 
 arrested and separately examined agreed in the main facts, 
 charging the three princes with being the heads of the con-r 
 spiracy ; with a mean protestation that they themselves had 
 only been passive in its formation. A legal inquisition wag 
 instituted, according to the forms of the times, and after a 
 few days the princes were executed. Bernal Diaz men 
 tions only Quauhtemotzin and his cousin the prince of Tar 
 cuba or Tlacopan ; and he was an eyewitness, though his 
 memory may have failed him. Other authorities include 
 the prince of Tezcuco. The victims died professing their 
 belief in Christianity (so far as they could understand what 
 
IIERNAN CORTES. 
 
 its tenets were). Before he was executed, the king turned 
 to Cortes and said, "Malintzin! now I find what your 
 false words and promises have ended in rny * death ! I 
 might better have perished by my own dagger, than have 
 intrusted myself to you, in my city of Mexico. Why 
 do you thus unjustly take my life ? May God demand of 
 you this innocent blood !" Quauhtemotzin admitted on his 
 examination that he had been aware of the existence of the 
 conspiracy ; but denied that he had given it his sanction. 
 Thus perished the last of the Mexican monarchs. History 
 weeps over his fate. The plea of stern and rigid necessity, 
 coolly considered, will justify Cortes in permitting the sen 
 tence passed upon Quauhtemotzin to be carried into execu 
 tion. But it is a plea which does not appeal to the heart, 
 at the distance of three centuries ; and we should only waste 
 words in attempting to enforce it. The facts have been 
 fairly stated. Cortes and his victim have been long since 
 called to an account, before a tribunal which recognises no 
 human distinctions. The former considered the latter as 
 his inferior, because he did not understand how to make 
 gunpowder, navigate by the compass, and say his prayers 
 in Latin, according to the breviary. So did all the coun 
 trymen of Cortes. We live in a more enlightened age ; 
 but equal absurdities are extant. It is a matter of history 
 that the execution of Quauhtemotzin long preyed on the 
 mind of Cortes, and haunted it alike in scenes of peril and 
 difficulty, and in the repose after triumph. Alexander was 
 far less pardonable for the murder of Clytus ; and yet seems 
 to have entertained less remorse on account of it. All con 
 querors have committed excesses, the victims of which con 
 tinue to rise up before the imagination of the authors of 
 their calamity. Cortes, like the others, was followed by 
 his Eumenides. 
 
 The expedition to Honduras occupied Cortes two years. 
 In the course of it he marched three thousand miles, through 
 a rugged and thinly inhabited country, enduring every pri- 
 
94 HISTORICAL NOTICE OP 
 
 vation incident to such a service. It has been truly re 
 marked that the story of what he underwent and overcame 
 has no parallel in the history of the Old World ; and that 
 though no splendid victory or discovery illustrated this cam 
 paign, he exhibited more personal resolution, mental and 
 physical endurance, and stern perseverance in his purpose, 
 than in any other period of his brilliant and blood-stained 
 history. 
 
 It was during this expedition, when passing through 
 Guazacualco, Cortes summoned the neighbouring chiefs to 
 meet him, that the mother of Dona Marina and her son by 
 her second husband came among the rest, obedient to the 
 summons, and expecting punishment for the treatment Ma 
 rina had met with in her infancy. - Bernal Diaz mentions 
 this interesting interview, for the truth of which he solemnly 
 vouches. He says that the likeness between the mother 
 and daughter was very striking. The latter assured both 
 her relations that she forgave them, as her mother had been 
 ignorant in what she did ; and she herself had benefited 
 greatly by being sold into bondage ; having been converted 
 to Christianity, borne a son to Cortes, and become the wife 
 of a cavalier named Juan Xaramillo, who had recently mar 
 ried her. Few well attested historical incidents have a 
 more romantic character than this possesses. Dona Ma 
 rina was unquestionably a very extraordinary woman. 
 The value of her services, her intelligence* and her personal 
 attractions seem at one time to have excited strongly the 
 regard of Cortes, who at all times treated her with respect. 
 Their connexion has been a subject for fiction ; and many 
 apocryphal and invented circumstances have been super 
 induced on the integrity of history, all tending to increase 
 the odium sought to be thrown on the memory of Cortes. 
 Such inventions are immoral. They sophisticate the 
 record of past events, at all times embarrassed by conflict 
 ing testimony ; and the great cause of truth suffers from 
 
HERNAN CORTES. 95 
 
 them material detriment.* Before he set out on this expe 
 dition, Dona Catalina, whom he had married in Cuba, ar 
 rived in New-Spain, and was escorted to Mexico, where, 
 after three months, she died of an asthma. B, Diaz inti-' 
 mates that her coming was unacceptable to Cortes, who, 
 however, received her with great ceremony and public tes 
 timonials of rejoicing. 
 
 On his return from Honduras, by the way of Truxillo, 
 he was broken down in health and spirits. The deputies 
 he had appointed in Mexico had circulated the rumour that 
 he was dead, and credit had been given to it both in New 
 and Old Spain. They found, however, that he was not 
 only alive, but able to assert his rights. A more formidable 
 obstacle to his pretensions presented itself in the arrival of 
 Ponce de Leon, who had arrived with a commission super 
 seding him in his authority, with power to examine into all 
 his transactions, and, .if expedient, to seize his person and 
 send him prisoner to Castile. Ponce de Leon, however, 
 died a few days after his arrival. But Cortes felt that he 
 enjoyed only the dangerous semblance of authority. He. 
 was surrounded by spies ; and every vessel that sailed for 
 Spain bore misrepresentations of his conduct and motives, 
 or exaggerations of his acts. In 1527 a new commission 
 of inquiry into his proceedings was issued, with plenary 
 powers vested in those to whom its execution was intrusted, 
 Cortes was strongly advised by the most daring or reckless 
 of his immediate counsellors to renounce his allegiance,- 
 and assume the absolute and independent command of New- 
 Spain. To this advice he had the prudence or loyalty not 
 to listen. But not choosing to submit to a trial by strangers, 
 in the land which had been the scene of his victories and 
 his dominion, he determined to repair to Castile, and to 
 plead his cause before the emperor in person. He had beer* 
 
 * Among this class may be enumerated Jicotencal, an historical romance, 
 written with considerable talent and spirit, and published in Philadelphia, 
 in 1826. 
 
96 HISTORICAL NOTICE OF 
 
 insulted by an order requiring his expulsion from Mexico ; 
 issued at the instigation of the veedor and factor, on their 
 release from prison, in which they had been detained since 
 his return from Honduras. He seems to have treated them 
 with deserved contempt. He carried with him to Spain 
 many of the curiosities and natural productions of the coun^ 
 try, and bullion and jewels to a large amount. It appears 
 that his private pecuniary resources were great ; as he after 
 ward agreed to give a portion with his daughter of a hun 
 dred thousand pesos. Whether the charges made against 
 him by his enemies, of defrauding the king and his followers 
 of their shares of the gold, had any foundation in truth, 
 cannot now be determined. There is no direct evidence of 
 the fact. But it was to the complaints made by the royal 
 treasurer in Mexico that the necessity of his voyage to 
 Spain was mainly owing. He was received in his native 
 land in a manner worthy of so great a conqueror. The 
 order of St. Jago, and the title of Marquis of the Valley 
 of Guaxaca, or Oajaca, were conferred on him, with the 
 grant of an extensive territory in New-Spain. The empe 
 ror not only treated him with respect in public, but paid 
 him private and highly honourable marks of attention. 
 After the departure of the emperor to Flanders, Cortes 
 married a noble lady, Juana Ramirez de Arellano and 
 Zufiiga, daughter of the Count de Aguilar, niece of the 
 Duke of Bejar, from whom descended the successors of his 
 title. During his absence, his enemies in Mexico were ex 
 ceedingly active in lodging complaints against him before 
 the court of royal audience, the members of which had 
 arrived there ; and his brother-in-law Juan de Xuares was 
 brought forward to demand justice for the murder of his 
 sister Dona Catalina, the first wife of Cortes. This charge 
 was believed by none but his enemies. She died from the 
 effects of the climate. Two of the oidores, attached to the 
 court of royal audience, died shortly after their arrival ; and 
 B. Diaz very justly remarks, that it was well for Cortes that 
 
HERNAN CORTES. 97 
 
 he was absent at the time, or he would have been addition 
 ally inculpated as the author of their deaths. 
 
 Cortes arrived in Old Spain in December, 1527, and 
 returned in 1530, with new titles, but with diminished 
 authority. His request to be reinstated in his former 
 power had been coldly, rather summarily, refused. He 
 was, indeed, named captain-general, and admiral of the 
 South Seas, which gave him the highest military rank, with 
 license to make further discoveries. Some difficulty and 
 litigation arose from the construction of his grant of lands. 
 He left the city of Mexico, as we may suppose, in some 
 disgust, and established his residence at a place on his 
 estate named Cuernavaca. He now turned his attention 
 to the project which had occupied his thoughts before, of 
 finding a passage between the North and South Seas, either 
 by an examination of the Isthmus of Darien, or by sailing 
 north along the coast of Florida. He sent out an expe 
 dition of two ships from Acapulco, in 1532. One df them 
 returned ; the commander reporting that he had been com* 
 pelled to xio so by a mutiny. The other was never heard 
 of. He sent two other vessels afterward to look for the 
 missing ship, and to 'search for pearl islands. This expe 
 dition, from the misconduct of one of the pilots, proved 
 still more calamitous. Cortes then determined to go in 
 person. He had three ships ready to launch in Tehuan tepee, 
 and when his intentions were known, numbers volunteered 
 to follow him. He sailed in May, 1 536. This expedition, 
 which resulted in the discovery of California, proved most 
 calamitous. Distress and famine carried off numbers of the 
 soldiers in the island then called Santa Cruz, and subse 
 quently La Paz. His vessels were driven into unknown 
 and dangerous parts of the sea, and he was again reported 
 as being dead in Mexico. In consequence of the rumour, 
 his wife sent out two vessels in quest of him, with 
 despatches, which induced him to return in the beginning 
 of the year 1 537. He soon after sent three ships out for 
 
 VOL. I. N 
 
1/8 HISTORICAL NOTICE OF 
 
 the lieutenant whom he had left in California, Francisco de 
 Ulloa, who returned to the port of Acapulco. The private 
 expense sustained by Cortes in this barren voyage of dis 
 covery is stated by Lorenzana to have been 200,000 ducats* 
 Another unprofitable attempt was made subsequently by 
 Cortes, to get news of the ship lost in his first venture ; and 
 Bernal Diaz says, he heard him declare that he had lost 
 altogether above three hundred thousand crowns by his 
 South Sea expeditions. In consequence of his losses, his 
 lawsuits, and difficulties with the authorities in New-Spain, 
 he sailed again for Castile in 1540. His reception was as 
 different from the former as the course of worldly events 
 would induce the most ordinary prophet to anticipate. He 
 returned from the failure of his recent projects a dis 
 appointed adventurer. Pizarro, in the mean time, had 
 made new and dazzling discoveries in Peru. Cortes was 
 received at court with cold kindness by the emperor, and 
 experienced in consequence from the ministers that vexa 
 tious and insulting treatment which is the lot of those who 
 are no longer fit for further services, and urge claims for 
 those they have rendered on the gratitude of governments. 
 He joined the armament which was conducted against 
 Algiers, in 1541, by Charles V., and which met with so 
 many disasters. His eldest son and his son by Dona Marina 
 accompanied him. They were in one of the vessels which 
 were stranded, and reached the shore with difficulty. 
 Among the other vexations and disappointments which 
 befell Cortes after his second return to Spain, it would 
 appear that the breaking off a treaty of marriage between 
 his daughter and the son of the Marquis of Astorga affected 
 him much. His health, which was infirm, declined rapidly 
 after this occurrence. He died on the 2d of December, 
 1547, and was buried with great funeral ceremony in the 
 chapel of the Dukes of Medina Sidonia. In pursuance of 
 directions given in his will, his remains were afterward 
 
- 
 
 HERNAN CORTES. 99 
 
 removed to New-Spain, and now rest in the city which he 
 destroyed and regenerated. 
 
 Besides the letters in Lorenzana's collection, the sixth 
 Relacion by him, written after his Honduras expedition, was 
 discovered about fifty years ago. It would be desirable 
 that this, with five other unpublished letters, arid his memo 
 rials to the emperor, should be published in connexion with 
 the three now republished. They exist, with many valu 
 able historical evidences relative to the conquest, in collec 
 tions made recently in Spain. 
 
 All conquerors are the " scourges of God," and Cortes 
 was one of the number. It has not been sought in this 
 Notice to justify his actions ; but simply to offer what may 
 be suggested in palliation of some of them. Heroes have 
 all had their foibles and their vices ; and so essential does 
 a certain portion of them seem in the composition of their 
 character, that they are gratuitously given to them by all 
 the great epic poets. Try Cortes by a comparison with 
 other great conquerors, and it will appear that while few of 
 them have rivalled his exploits, many have left darker 
 stains on their reputation, admitting of no palliation. The 
 charge of cruelty is the heaviest which has been made 
 against him.. Bernal Diaz mentions, that on one occasion, 
 when he was called on to sign a severe sentence, he gave 
 a deep sigh, and exclaimed, " How happy is he who is not 
 able to write, and is thereby prevented from signing the 
 death-warrants of men !" This may have been affected ; 
 but it may also have been natural. The charge of pecula 
 tion, as we have remarked, is not proved. In indomitable 
 perseverance in the accomplishment of whatever he under 
 took, Cortes is unequalled in history. No difficulty diverted 
 him from pursuing his steadfast purpose ; and, like Scipio, 
 in stumbling he took possession of the soil. He was fond 
 of humming an old ditty, 
 
 Aclelante mi sobrino, 
 Y no creais en agueros. 
 
 
 
100 HISTORICAL NOTICE OF HERN AN CORTES. 
 
 He assumed great splendour, as the king's representa 
 tive ; but his magnificence was regulated by good taste, 
 which rejected every thing gaudy or fantastic. He was 
 proud of the single name, which he had made known over 
 all Europe, and was better pleased with hearing himself 
 spoken of as Cortes than as captain-general. As Cortes, 
 he is known in the farthest regions by those who never 
 heard of the Marquis of the Valley, 
 
 Jime 29///, 1838, 
 
DOMESTIC LITERATURE. 
 
 
DOMESTIC LITERATURE. 
 
 Materiam dat locus ipse. -Ovi 
 
 To the Editor of the Atlantic Magazine. 
 
 A WRITER in the first number of the Atlantic Magazine, 
 whom, though coinciding with him in the main, I shall take 
 the liberty of flatly contradicting in some of his positions, 
 has asserted that the history, superstitions, and natural and 
 moral features of our country are inadequate for the pur 
 poses of poetry and fiction. 
 
 That, as he says, * our national associations are few/* I 
 am willing to concede ; but I insist that the local associa 
 tions are many, and of deep interest. Some of them, too, 
 are beginning to assume the rust of antiquity. They have 
 arrived at a respectable old age, being quite beyond the 
 memory of living men, and therefore affording scope for im 
 agination ; while they are not, on the other hand, so hidden 
 in the shadows of past days as to lose the charm of per 
 sonal interest. 
 
 The writer goes on to say, ' Of the mummery of abo 
 riginal superstition little can be learned, and of that little it 
 seems that nothing can be made ; of traditionary history we 
 have hardly any that is of a romantic character/ Both of 
 these propositions I beg leave most cordially to deny. I 
 
 * Vide page 21 of the Magazine, 
 
104 DOMESTIC LITERATURE. 
 
 admit that the * belief in witchcraft' will not afford materials 
 for romance equal to those with which the once far-spread 
 dominion of judicial astrology has supplied modern roman 
 cers. I deny that the grand and beautiful works of nature 
 absolutely require historical associations to render them fit 
 themes for the imagination ; an inference which the writer 
 referred to seems disposed to make in his essay. 
 
 On all these things, in their order, I propose to make a 
 few comments, which must necessarily be desultory, and, I 
 fear, trite ; premising, that I was led to them by two works 
 just published,* which, with several others that have re 
 cently appeared, and many, we hope, that are to follow, do 
 and will, of themselves, sufficiently refute any dogmas, pre 
 dicated on abstract reasoning, that assert the impossibility of 
 creating a literature purely domestic. The pamphlet enti 
 tled * Letters from Fort Braddock' is full of excellent hints 
 for an historical and descriptive novel. Little more can be 
 said of it, as it is merely a sketch, a skeleton of a story ; 
 although some of the parts are very finely sustained. The 
 * Sketch of Connecticut' will, I presume, be reviewed at 
 some length, in this magazine. I shall therefore only re 
 mark here, that it seems written in a very chaste style, and 
 bears internal evidence of being the production of a lady. 
 I may, however, be mistaken. 
 
 The ideals of the Indian character have been drawn in the 
 sweetest of modern poems, Gertrude of Wyoming ; in which 
 its attributes of the cool and calculating courage of man, 
 united to the passive bravery of the nobler animals ; the 
 knowledge assimilated to instinct which the red men seem 
 to have borrowed from the irrational inhabitants of their for 
 ests ; their reserve ; their acquired suppression of passion, 
 which yet runs in quick and silent currents, beneath the ex- 
 
 * Letters found in the Ruins of Fort Braddock, including an interesting 
 American Tale. O. Wilder & Jas. M. Campbell, 1824. 
 
 Sketch of Connecticut, forty years since. Hartford. Oliver Cooke & 
 Sons, 1824. pp. 278. 
 
DOMESTIC LITERATURE. 105 
 
 ternal ice ; their adherence to a promise made ; their faith 
 in ancestral superstitions ; their predominant and inextin 
 guishable lust of revenge, are all imbodied in the charac 
 ter of Outalissi, and exhibited in poetry as chaste as it is 
 noble, as mellifluous as it is graphic. 
 
 As monumental brass unchanged his look, 
 A stoic of the woods, a man without a tear. 
 
 The character of the Oneida chief is a pure poetical ab 
 straction. That of Mohegan, in the Pioneers, is drawn by 
 one who observes accurately, and describes what he sees 
 faithfully. He chose to introduce his Indian into a picture 
 of still life ; for which posterity will name him with grati 
 tude, long after all the puffing, quack reviewing, and tea- 
 table criticism of the day has vanished and evaporated. 
 
 In the Letters from Fort Braddock, before referred to, 
 Weshop, an Indian, is introduced, with very good effect, by 
 the author. In his rapid narrative, he has thrown out this 
 character in fine relief. Weshop is despatched with letters, 
 from the friend of an unfortunate person, confined under a 
 charge of murder, to the governor and council of New- 
 York. Fleet and silent as one of his own arrows, the mes 
 senger leaves his employer, and appears in his forest garb 
 among the abodes of civilized and mercenary men. He 
 delivers neither credentials nor letter, but appears before 
 the council in the character of an ambassador, for whom he 
 is mistaken. He is lodged under the same roof with him 
 whom he came to rescue ; and, at the dead of night, opens 
 his prison doors, points out the path to liberty, and through 
 rivers, rapids, forests, morasses, and the apparently track 
 less wilderness, conducts him in safety to the bosom of his 
 friend, by means which, though apparently incredible, well 
 authenticated accounts compel us to recognise as natural. 
 
 " For then 
 
 The bow-string of my spirit was not slack ; 
 When, spite of woods, and floods, and ambush'd men r 
 I bore thee like the quiver on my back, 
 VOL. I. O 
 
106 DOMESTIC LITERATURE. 
 
 Fleet as the whirlwind hurries on the rack j 
 Nor foemen then, nor cougar's conch I fear'd, 
 For I was strong as mountain cataract : 
 .And dost thou not remember how we cheer'd 
 Upon the last hill-top, when white men's huts appeared ?" 
 
 There is not, at present, spirit enough in the country to 
 publish a new edition of Brockden Brown's novels. We 
 prefer paying for English magazines, that inform us what 
 he wrote about, to possessing his works ; of which, it seems, 
 we can only find out the merit when some transatlantic 
 critic, having exhausted all other topics, thinks fit to wan 
 der even to our literature for a subject to eke out his col 
 umns. From my recollections, however, I think he makes 
 little use of the aborigines in his tales ; although he might 
 indubitably have found among them materials peculiarly 
 suited to the character of his genius ; which loved a tale of 
 wild and singular events, produced by extraordinary hallu 
 cinations of the mind, rather than by unusual combinations 
 of place and circumstance ; and preferred, for the creation 
 of its romance, thegothic and grotesque delineations of some 
 mental or moral obliquity, to all the machinery of inquisi 
 tions, castles, or dungeons. 
 
 The ceremonies and customs of the different Indian tribes 
 of this continent have been, in many instances, minutely 
 described : and as, though generally similar, they vary with 
 the differences of origin and climate, as materially as 
 those of civilized nations, they offer different resources to 
 the writer of fiction ; so, also, their fabulous legends and 
 religious superstitions have a great variety of character. 
 While, in the north, they point to hyperborean cold and the 
 regions of darkness, or to boundless plains and lakes, where 
 the spirit expatiates untired, in chasing the phantom elk, or 
 buffalo, or beaver ; in the south the imagination reposes on 
 sunny isles and sparkling waters, graceful women and rav 
 ishing music. * Of the mummery of aboriginal superstition,' 
 one may learn as much as he pleases, by reading the ac- 
 
DOMESTIC LITERATURE. 107 
 
 counts of those who have examined the subject ; and he 
 may make as much use of it as he is able. The creative 
 faculty is wanting ; not the materials to be wrought upon. 
 If scenes of unparalleled torture and indefatigable endur 
 ance, persevering vengeance, and unfailing friendship, hair 
 breadth escapes, and sudden ambush, if the horrors of 
 gloomy forests and unexplored caverns, tenanted by the 
 most terrible of banditti, if faith in wild predictions, and 
 entire submission of the soul to the power of ancient legends 
 and visionary prophecies, are useful to the poet or romancer, 
 here they may be found in abundance and endless variety. 
 The former might even discover the hint of an epic, in 
 some of the traditions belonging to this continent. For 
 instance, when the fathers of the Lenape, according to their 
 own account, crossed the Mississippi, from the west, and after 
 great battles gradually exterminated from the soil the 
 gigantic race by whom it was occupied, and who had reared 
 the towers and forts and towns of which vestiges are still 
 remaining, full scope is given to the indulgence of an imagi 
 nation, capable of constructing an heroic poem. It would, 
 to be sure, want the charm of national association or inter 
 est; stiil it would point to the institutions and character of 
 the principal tribes, who were our immediate predecessors, 
 as occupants of the country we possess ; with whose more 
 recent history we are, or may be, in some degree, familiar. 
 That the facts are meager, and the tradition imperfect, is true ; 
 but there is therefore more room for invention; and there 
 are no records or vouchers to contradict what might be 
 invented. The appliances and means for illustration, de 
 scription, and machinery are ample and numerous. And 
 the difficulties of such an undertaking cannot be stated 
 as an objection ; for no epic, since Homer's, has been comr 
 posed without great labour ; though it may be an easy 
 matter to indite an entertaining poetical history in blank 
 verse, like Madoc. Had the Paradise Lost never been 
 
108 DOMESTIC UTE11ATURE. 
 
 written, who would have thought the fall of man a fit sub - 
 ject for an epic poem ? 
 
 But we are disposed to go much further, and to assert, 
 that the pure and abstract elements of poetry are to be 
 found in the conceptions and notions of some of our aborigines, 
 if we are to give credit to those who have related them. 
 Their mythology, so to speak, if less gorgeous and sublime, 
 is more refined and less ridiculous than that of the Hindoos. 
 The latter worship their million images, without associating 
 with their adoration of the uncouth idol the idea of the 
 original personification which it was intended to indicate ; 
 while the natives of this continent had a spirit or genius, as 
 the cause of every natural effect, and personified every 
 moral influence. And if we combine the various attributes 
 said to be ascribed by them to the Spirit of Dreams, we 
 might even be led to believe that they worshipped the crea 
 tive power of intellect, and invoked the faculty of pure im 
 agination. Poetry and prophecy are identified by all rude 
 nations, as they were by the American Indians. He who 
 would employ their machinery, in verse, needs not intro 
 duce barbarous names, insusceptible of being euphonised ; 
 but may employ, directly, the personification and its attri 
 butes ; and, in so doing, speak the universally intelligible 
 language of poetry. An exhaustless mine, too, of metaphor 
 and simile is open in the fancies and habits of these natives ; 
 the wonders, phenomena, curiosities, and productions of the 
 country, but yet as little employed. The perception of 
 these belongs only to the original mind ; and, it seems, some 
 sacred bard is yet to arise among us, in whose hand shall 
 be the hazel wand, at whose bidding the fountains of domes 
 tic poetry are to flow, freshly and purely, from our own 
 native soil. The altar and the sacrifice are prepared for 
 the rite, which is to propitiate Nature, to inspire her votary 
 with the divine afflatus ; the priest alone is wanting. 
 
 Southey's * Songs of the North American Indians' pos 
 sess very few beauties. He manufactures his prose and 
 
DOMESTIC LITERATURE. 109 
 
 poetry too much on the same principles. Moore has been 
 much happier in employing a few traditions and local asso 
 ciations, which he met with in this country ; and a few of 
 his beautiful songs might be mentioned, as evidence in 
 favour of their fitness for the purposes of modern poetry. 
 
 The next position of the writer on whom I have been 
 commenting is, " that of traditionary history we have hardly 
 any that is of a romantic character." To prove the con 
 trary, we should be obliged to enter a field entirely too 
 wide to be surveyed in our present limits. We can only 
 refer to an article in the third volume of the North Ameri 
 can Review, page 480, enumerating many of the materials 
 for romance writing, in the History of the Settlers of New- 
 England. Let the writer read the few pages there devoted 
 to this topic, and recant this obiter dictum, at his leisure. 
 The reviewer hazards, however, one prediction, which has 
 been, perhaps, already contradicted. " Whoever," says 
 he (page 484), " in this country first attains the rank of a 
 first-rate writer of fiction, we venture to predict will lay his 
 scene here." The author of the Spy (which is another 
 instance in point, as being partly founded upon tradition), 
 commenced his career in our own state. It remains to be 
 seen whether he will find the eastern soil as congenial to 
 his powers as our own. Unquestionably, the history of 
 New-England is more prolific in romantic incident, and pic 
 turesque variety of characters and conflicting principles, than 
 that of any other part of the United States. The accounts 
 of them, too, are numerous, and were written at the time of 
 their occurrence, by those who were part of what they saw, 
 and described it graphically and minutely. Their narra 
 tives, in the language of their times, in every size, from the 
 ponderous folios of Cotton Mather, to the modest pamphlet 
 of his relation Increase, are precisely the auxiliaries desid 
 erated by the compiler of romance, who would borrow their 
 power from the Muses, of giving to his inventions a resem 
 blance to reality, and exhibiting ' truth severe, by fairy fic 
 tion dress'd.' 
 
110 DOMESTIC LITERATURE. 
 
 u \(ynv ir^noiaiv o'fwla 
 
 We seek, almost hopelessly, for such materials, elsewhere 
 throughout the country ; but must resort to oral tradition, 
 or the pages of some general history, which presents no 
 living pictures of men or their manners. 
 
 As adminicles of testimony, on this point, I again refer 
 to the works noticed at the commencement of this article. 
 Captain Mason and Captain Kyd, the murder of Miss 
 M'Rae and the abortive attempt to seize Arnold in his quar 
 ters, with several other names and incidents of peculiar 
 interest, are happily introduced by these authors ; suffi 
 ciently so, at least, to show what might be made of them, in 
 a more elaborate effort. 
 
 Themes for the ludicrous, as a part of the province of 
 fiction, are also abundant in the records and remembrances 
 of our past history, and in the former and present state of 
 society in different parts of our country. It is hardly ne 
 cessary to mention as illustrations, M'Fingal and Knicker 
 bocker, Rip Van Winkle, the Legend of Sleepy Hollow, 
 &c. I ought, perhaps, to adduce the Long Finne, also, as 
 an example. But I candidly confess, that having asked 
 many times * what it was meant to demonstrate,* and hav 
 ing never received a satisfactory answer, I have not yet 
 spent my judgment upon its perusal. These instances 
 show what may be done ; but it is obvious that much more 
 remains unattempted. Nothing like the different kinds of 
 humour, applied to the description of character, in the nov 
 els of Fielding, Smollet, or the author of Waverley, has yet 
 been elicited here ; where the variety of character and cir 
 cumstances is so great, and in some respects so novel. The 
 ground is scarcely broken. If some enterprising Yankee, 
 who has fought his way through the world, would only 
 communicate all his adventures, from the time he left the in 
 terior of Connecticut, * with a light heart and a thin pair of 
 breeches/ until he became a substantial man and at ease in 
 
DOMESTIC LITERATURE. Ill 
 
 his possessions, and would intrust his manuscript to some 
 ingenious and accomplished writer, who might recast and 
 embellish it, to such a one, for instance, as dramatized 
 Captain Riley's Narrative, we have no doubt he might 
 draw tears, both of laughter and sentiment, from all who 
 could read English. 
 
 The history of witchcraft, to which the writer in this 
 magazine alludes, might be employed for the purposes of 
 either comic or tragic romance, though more adapted to the 
 latter. A great deal was written on the subject at the time 
 it was in vogue, which would abundantly supply the wants 
 of the novelist. The persecutions also of the Quakers and 
 Baptists, and, indeed, of all who differed from themselves, 
 by the sturdy Calvinists, who came over the water to en 
 joy that liberty of conscience which they would allow to 
 no one else, are minutely detailed, and might be used with 
 effect in fiction. 
 
 The writer next inquires, " without the traditionary asso 
 ciations connected with the strong features of nature in the 
 Old World, what could be made of them ?" Seeming to im 
 ply, that the sublime and picturesque, grand and beautiful 
 scenery of our own country, which is unconnected with 
 legendary lore, affords no subjects on which the imagina 
 tion may dwell with delight. In the first place, as we have 
 before stated, associations are not wanting ; and in the next, 
 we would ask, after the classical remembrances, which are 
 common to all the enlightened nations of Christendom, 
 what associations have we with most of the mountains, riv 
 ers, and lakes which have been sung in modern verse. We 
 have surely a better acquaintance here with our own High 
 lands, than with Skiddaw, Schehralion, or any other hill in 
 Scotland. But we read and relish the descriptive poetry 
 of Scott, solely for its own excellence. Can we not admire 
 a beautiful landscape, without knowing from what country 
 it is copied? Wherein, indeed, would we be wiser for the 
 information, if we had never seen, and never heard of the 
 
112 DOMESTIC LITERATURE. 
 
 original? And need we name Thomson, Beattie, Cowper, 
 Wordsworth, and many other examples, to show that de 
 scriptive poetry can be created, without the scene deriving 
 additional interest from history or tradition, or without, in 
 truth, having any names, capable of being introduced into 
 poetry ? What associations have we with the Cumberland 
 lakes ? What kind of a name for a romantic river is Dud- 
 don, which has, nevertheless, been taught to meander 
 through many very pleasing sonnets ? Or how many per 
 sons, except in those sonnets, ever heard of such a stream ? 
 For sound, it cannot compare with Hudson ; and the latter, 
 by-the-way, through all its majestic course, is connected with 
 many associations for those who know how to feel and 
 employ them. 
 
 I do not, however, in denying these positions of this cor 
 respondent, intend, in any manner, to controvert the general 
 doctrine for which he contends, that the extensive range of 
 modern literature demands, in a writer who would acquire 
 any permanent celebrity, a liberal acquaintance with the 
 past history and present state of the literary world. I have 
 no manner of respect for some stump philosophers of our 
 own, who have seriously proposed that the importation of 
 foreign books should be prohibited. The opposite system, 
 however, may be carried too far. To go over all the 
 ground that is behind would be the labour of a life : to keep 
 even pace with all the different authors who are now 
 shedding their lights of different lustre over Europe would 
 be impossible. Every fair in Germany, every annual cata 
 logue published in England, presents us with almost a new 
 library. But the scholar here, who would dedicate his time 
 and talents to contributing to the establishment of a national 
 literature, which should be characterized by simplicity and 
 strength, must begin by making himself familiar with the 
 manner of the ancient models, and of the founders of 
 modern literature. The ornate, overloaded, obviously arti 
 ficial, and often dissolute style of the lighter literature of 
 
DOMESTIC LITERATURE. 113 
 
 the day, with its endless redundance, useless verbiage, and 
 unmeaning allusions, affords no precedent for our primitial 
 classics. It ought not to, and it is pleasant to observe that 
 it does not, suit the genius of our nation ; for those writers 
 who have been most successful among ourselves have been 
 most distinguished for cultivated simplicity. The affected 
 parade of superficial acquirements, and the actual posses 
 sion of sound and general knowledge, are not easily con 
 founded. It may be feared, however, that the foppish and 
 ambitiously quaint style of some English Magazines, which 
 circulate freely among us, may have a pernicious effect, in 
 corrupting the taste of many, particularly the young. 
 
 Let it be also observed, in passing, that though we have 
 nothing yet which we can call, without hyperbole, national 
 literature, much is to be learned respecting our country 
 with which a national writer, without wishing to become 
 an antiquarian, ought to be acquainted, if he would not 
 be thought shamefully ignorant. Surely, any thing relating 
 to our continent, from Greenland to Cape Horn, is -more 
 interesting to an American than the family history of some 
 obscure chieftain, accounts of the crude superstitions of 
 barbarians with whom we have no associations, or memoirs 
 on the obsolete customs of some tribe which has longest 
 remained out of the pale of civilization ; with all which the 
 presses of modern times have been groaning. 
 
 I contend, too, strenuously, for a point which it scarcely 
 seems necessary to urge, that a writer of talents among our 
 own people should devote his abilities and apply his 
 acquirements to subjects of domestic interest ; exclusively 
 so, so far forth as his opportunities admit. Why should we 
 do what others have done well before, and be content, at 
 best, but with the praise of successful imitation ? If an 
 accomplished American travels, and records his adven 
 tures, and the feelings to which they gave birth, what can 
 he say of the vestiges of antiquity which he visits, which 
 has not been suggested before ? He can, however, com- 
 
 VOL. I. P 
 
114 DOMESTIC LITERATURE. 
 
 pare what he sees abroad with what he left at home, and 
 communicate for the benefit of his countrymen the result 
 of such comparison, whether in their favour or against 
 them. Is the historian to repeat the thrice-told tale of 
 another people, when our own annals are imperfectly 
 recorded ? Is the political philosopher to be for ever per 
 plexed with the concerns of Europe, her rotten dynasties, 
 conflicting interests, and complicated finance, without turn 
 ing to our own unparalleled institutions, on which no feudal 
 system or fungous hierarchy ever operated with their un 
 natural influences ; which have no ancient evils to remedy, 
 but need only beware of the introduction of errors ? It 
 should be his task to detect the appearance, and warn 
 against the result, of such admissions ; to point out the 
 proper modes of applying the powerful energies and 
 resources of our young empire for the good of present and 
 future generations. Is the poet to take up the burthen of a 
 strain, with which the hills and groves of Europe have been 
 vocal for ages, when nature, in her unpolluted simplicity and 
 grandeur, invites him to the festival of imaginative feeling, 
 in the bosom of her ancient solitudes ? Is the novelist to 
 describe manners which he can glean only from books, 
 when our own are before him, undepicted, though rich in 
 all the materials of satire, description, and romance ? Can 
 the painter or sculptor (if any such we should have) find 
 no symmetry in the vanishing forms of our aborigines ? no 
 historical incident which might live on the canvass ; no 
 worthy whose reverend image should be perpetuated in 
 enduring marble ? 
 
 The literature of a nation is its common property, and 
 one of the strongest bonds of common feeling. More par 
 ticularly does it become so when the subject is domestic. 
 The fame of an author who is universally admired is part 
 of the inheritance of every individual citizen of his country. 
 He adds another ligament to the ties which bind a people 
 together ; and in so doing, although the immediate object 
 

 DOMESTIC LITERATURE. 115 
 
 of his efforts may have only been to amuse his readers, he 
 becomes the benefactor of his country. 
 
 With such reservations and comments, I willingly con 
 cede to the writer on " modern literature" the necessity 
 of studying foreign examples ; and devoutly wish that the 
 prosecution of native literature may be conducted on prin 
 ciples as liberal as those he espouses. I hope, too, that he 
 will comply with a promise, which he is so well able to per 
 form, of lending his hand to the good work himself. Illus 
 tration on such a subject is better than theory. 
 
 I cannot conclude an article on domestic literature, with 
 out expressing the joy with which every intelligent observer 
 of the signs of the times must mark the present indications 
 of rapid advancement. As has been recently well observed 
 by an elegant writer, we have no cause to blush, if our 
 national pride rests as much on just anticipations as on our 
 recollections of what has been. With the promise held 
 forth by the spirit of domestic improvement, which seems 
 now spreading wide through our country in every depart 
 ment, we may soon expect an era when the taunts of foreign 
 criticism will be hushed ; when apology will not be neces 
 sary, and recrimination will be idle ; when we may point 
 as proudly to the imperishable labours of genius in the 
 fields of literature, as we now do to the discoveries of our 
 philosophers, the inventions of our mechanists, or the 
 triumphs of our arms. 
 
I . 
 
 
 
 
 'it\,, sn-t'.i:-'-y*m : 
 
ISAAC; 
 
 A TYPE OF THE REDEEMER, 
 
 
[Tms version of one of the Sacred Operas of Metastasio was 
 published in the Talisman for the year 1828, with the following 
 note by Mr. Sands : 
 
 " In the following translation I have endeavoured to adhere as 
 closely as possible to the text of the original, and of the English 
 version of the Scriptures, where the author has quoted or alluded 
 to them. Some passages, which seemed least essential in pre 
 serving the unity of the design, have been omitted."] 
 
ISAAC; 
 
 ;l-'>n .V jj/<i ,"'V ?* * < '<?.. -j '< i 'iv ';'">: ~i Vi'j V/On^I 1 
 
 A TYPE OF THE REDEEMER. 
 
 wiT 
 
 PART FIRST. 
 
 ABRAHAM. ISAAC. 
 
 Ab. No more, my son ; now more than half the night 
 O'er us, forgetful of the hours, and held 
 In sweet discourse, hath pass'd. Thee the desire 
 Of knowledge, me the love to see thee thus 
 Hang on my lips attentive, hath so long 
 Beguiled from sleep. Dear Isaac, to thy couch. 
 Now ask not further. To their wonted rest 
 Give we our weary limbs. Some other time, 
 What yet remains I will in full recount. 
 
 Is. Whene'er, O father, thou resum'st the tale, 
 In its miraculous order, of thy life, 
 Such pleasing wonder wraps my spirit round, 
 I feel no sense of weariness, nor wish 
 For rest. My being I forget : with thee 
 Borne on through each event, beside thee ever 
 I could assert myself to be. When first, 
 Obedient to the call of the Most High, 
 Thy native soil forsaking, I with thee 
 
120 ISAAC. 
 
 Leave the Chaldean plains : in woods and hills 
 
 Of Charran and of Palestine, with thee 
 
 A stranger I sojourn. And when there comes 
 
 A famine in that land, and thou dost rove 
 
 Far, seeking food, I journey on with thee 
 
 To Gerar and to Egypt, shuddering still 
 
 At thine and at my mother's perilous way. 
 
 When on the kings overthrown thou sett'st thy foot, 
 
 Conqueror, near Jordan's double-founted source, 
 
 I follow thy victorious steps. But when 
 
 Thou dost disclose the promises of GOD, 
 
 The Covenant stablished 'twixt Him and thee, 
 
 With the dread presence overwhelmed, I hear 
 
 The Deep Voice of Jehovah ; and my heart 
 
 Is filled with sacred awe. 
 
 Ab. Those promises 
 Of the Eternal now unfold in thee, 
 And in thy seed shall be fulfilled. This land 
 Wherein thou wanderest as a stranger now, 
 From Nilus to Euphrates, shall to them 
 Be subject. 
 
 /*. Then my issue 
 
 Ab. Than the stars, 
 
 And than the sands, shall be more numerous. Them 
 Will the Most High declare his chosen race, 
 Will make them kings and princes of the earth ; 
 And all that dwell therein, that yet shall come, 
 Through the long future, shall be blest in us. 
 
 Is. What glory, fortune, happiness ! 
 
 Ab. Ah ! my son, 
 
 Let not such glory dazzle thee ! Our joy 
 Is often sinful, when beneath it hid, 
 Pride, like a serpent, creeps into the heart, 
 And turns to poison the best gifts of Heaven. 
 
 Is. I feel my soul from such contagion free. 
 I feel but I may be deceived ; for who 
 
ISAAC. 121 
 
 Knows thoroughly his own heart ? Thou didst not speak 
 Thus undesignedly. Thou makest me tremble. 
 
 Ab. (O holy fear of God, the true beginning 
 Of wisdom !) Be thou quieted, my son, 
 Thy father warns thee, but accuses not. 
 Go such as now thou art, God keep thee stilL 
 
 ABRAHAM, alone. 
 
 Oh ! how, and in what language, bounteous God* 
 For all thy mercies shall I render thanks ? 
 Great was thy goodness which vouchsafed to me 
 A son when old, and stricken far in age> 
 But such a son, depository meet 
 Of my overflowing tenderness, my hope, - 
 The dear prop of my many years, Oh ! this, 
 This is a gift But whence this sudden light 
 That pours its blaze around ? Does the sun bring 
 The flood of day so soon ? Ah no ! the sun 
 Hath not such living splendour in his beams. 
 I know the glorious rays I feel who comes ! 
 
 The Angel appears. 
 
 Angel. Abraham ! Abraham ! 
 
 Ab. Behold I am here. 
 
 Angel. Hearken to the commandment which I bring 
 From the Everlasting GOD. Take now thy son, 
 Thine only son, Isaac, whom thou so lovest, 
 And get thee with him to Moriah. There, 
 His blood being shed, offer thou up the lad 
 For a burnt-offering, on that mountain's top 
 Which HE shall show thee, by a certain sign. 
 
 Thine innocent child, in thy late years, 
 Vouchsafed by heaven to thy desires, 
 
 Whom love so just, so strong endears, 
 GOD at thy hand requires ; 
 
 VOI*. I. Q 
 
122 ISAAC. 
 
 Requires thine offspring's blood to flow, 
 Beneath thy sacrificing knife, 
 
 Requires the priest to strike the blow, 
 Who gave the victim life. 
 
 ABRAHAM, alone. 
 
 Eternal GOD ! how sudden thy command ! 
 How terrible its purport. 'Tis thy will 
 That I should slay my son ; and thou art pleased 
 Even in thine awful message to rehearse 
 The exceeding value of the gift recalled ; 
 Repeating all the names that can awake 
 The tenderest yearnings towards the thing I lose. 
 But Thou commandest it : It is enough. 
 I bow my forehead to the dust. I adore 
 Thine awful mandate. I will shed his blood 
 But Isaac dead my hopes where then are they ? 
 Runs not the promise counter to the command ? 
 No ! for THOU canst not lie, and I am bound 
 To hearken and obey. To doubt is sin ; 
 'Tis sin to search thy ways, past finding out. 
 My GOD ! I do obey, believe, and hope. 
 But in this terrible strait, be Thou my help, 
 Oh Lord ! behold me ready for the work 
 I must perform and will. 
 
 But who can tell ? 
 
 When I must strike the blow his pleading looks 
 My heart may agitate my hand may tremble, 
 Unless Thou giv'st me strength. I am a man, 
 I am a father. Thou, Lord, knowest all. 
 What ho ! within ! 
 
 ABRAHAM. Servants. 
 Ab. Wake Isaac from his sleep. 
 Saddle an ass ; call two of the young men 
 To follow me. But let not Sarah hear, 
 
ISAAC. 123 
 
 Nor break her slumbers. Yet unknown to her 
 Be the dread secret. Let me spare her yet 
 A mother's agony. Too soon Oh God ! 
 She comes. How shall I speak ? 
 
 ABRAHAM. SARAH. 
 
 Sar. So long before 
 The dawn, is Abraham forth ? What care anew 
 
 Ab. Sarah, I am bound to offer up to GOD 
 The blood of a pure victim. I go forth 
 To cut dry branches from the neighbouring wood, 
 To kindle on the altar. Stay me not 
 Farewell ! 
 
 Sar. May I not bear thee company ? 
 
 Ab. Not this time. Let it please thee to remain. 
 
 Sar. And have I walked with thee so many years, 
 Partner in all thy joys, and all thy griefs, 
 And must I in thy pious offices 
 Partake no longer ? 
 
 Ab. (Just is the reproof. 
 She should not be defrauded of her part 
 In this great sacrifice. She must know all.) 
 
 Sar. (What hath he to unfold ?) 
 
 Ab. Beloved wife, 
 
 Tell me, in present memory dost thou bear 
 The unnumbered mercies GOD hath showered upon us ? 
 
 Sar. Ah ! how can I forget them ? 
 
 Ab. Art thou grateful ? 
 
 Sar. He knows my heart. 
 
 Ab. But should he ask from thee 
 To give some difficult proof of gratitude, 
 Most trying to the heart ? 
 
 Sar. Content I were 
 To meet all dangers, to lay down my life. 
 
 Ab. And if he should demand thy son ? 
 
 Sar. Isaac ! 
 
124 ISAAC. 
 
 Ab. Even Isaac. 
 
 Sar. Alas ! though it might cost the pangs of 
 Unto the hand which gave, I would restore 
 The precious gift. 
 
 Ab. Then, Sarah, be it so. 
 Restore him. God requires it. 
 
 Sar. Ha! 
 
 Ab. Even so. 
 
 I must offer up the lad a sacrifice 
 To HIM. Such his behest; and absolute 
 Was the commandment. 
 
 Sar. Abraham ! sayest thou ? 
 Thy words amaze me. Can it be His will 
 Our son should die, so dear to Him, His own 
 Peculiar gift who was to be the sire 
 Of many and mighty nations? How? and why? 
 
 Ab. It hath not pleased the Almighty to reveal 
 His purposes. A mandate from His lips 
 Issued, 'tis ours in silence to obey, 
 Not reason of its cause. 
 
 Sar. And Isaac then 
 Full soon 
 
 Ab. Must on the altar yield his life. 
 
 Sar. The father too himself 
 
 Ab. The father too 
 
 With his own hand must offer him. Oh wife ! 
 If in the merit of this sacrifice 
 Thou wouldst partake, let thy free will attend 
 In this great action. But no further now 
 A yearning mother's presence I invite, 
 Nor can permit. Farewell ! From Isaac hide 
 The secret 'tis from me that he must learn 
 Alas ! thou weepest. Be firm ! if thou art willing, 
 And in thy will art strongly resolute, 
 GOD ever merciful will with his grace 
 fjelp thee, and afterward for righteousness 
 
ISAAC. 125 
 
 It shall be accounted to thee. Ponder this, 
 That better than ourselves can know, He knows 
 Whatever is good for us, whate'er is ill. 
 Wealth, honour, length of days, and progeny, 
 Are all His gifts ; nor, rendering unto Him 
 That which Himself bestowed, is man bereaved. 
 
 Let peace o'er thy sad bosom move, 
 
 And teach thy spirit to obey ; 
 Dearer to God the task shall prove, 
 
 Than any victim thou couldst slay. 
 
 Another's blood we only pay, 
 For tribute when the victim dies ; 
 
 We render up, when we obey, 
 The Will, a nobler sacrifice. 
 
 SARAH, alone. 
 Yet then, a little while 
 Miserable, afflicted, sorrow-stricken mother, 
 Mother no longer shall I be 1 That bosom, 
 That seat of truth upon the altar-stone 
 Transpierced, must all its innocent blood be shed ? 
 Already in my soul I feel the edge 
 Of that dividing knife. Eternal Father, 
 Accept with favour all my anguish ! Here 
 In this sad heart the sacrifice begins. 
 Nor less the sacrifice of grief, perchance, 
 Than of the blood thou biddest to be shed. 
 
 SARAH. ISAAC. GAMARI. Servants. 
 
 Is. Mother. 
 
 Sar. (That name ! that image !) 
 
 Is. I am summoned 
 
 By Abraham. Is he not with thee ? Swift 
 I must speed to find him. 
 
126 ISAAC. 
 
 Sar. Hearken (Strengthen me, 
 
 God !) 
 
 Is. Thou dost not know that they prepare 
 A sacrifice, whereat I must attend. 
 
 Sar. I know my son, I know. Yet hold ! (I feel 
 The pangs of death.) Do not forsake me thus ! 
 
 Is. My mother, why art thou disquieted, 
 And wherefore dost thou weep ? 
 
 Sar. Alas ! I am left 
 Childless. 
 
 Is. But I will soon return to thee. 
 Surely for the first time I do not quit 
 Thy much-loved presence. 
 
 Sar. But this time (Oh God ! 
 What agony hath ever equalled mine !) 
 
 Is. Gamari, thou whom I have ever loved, 
 Who on my bosom hath so often leaned, 
 Do thou watch over her when I am gone. 
 Mother, till I return, behold thy son ! 
 Thou weepest still. What shall what must I do ? 
 Thou knowest my father's will. 
 
 Sar. Yes, go my son ; 
 His will be done. My will it shall be too, 
 Though in a thousand parts my heart be rent. 
 Go list one last embrace, and then farewell ! 
 
 Isaac. 
 
 Let not your hearts be troubled, neither let them be afraid, 
 Though absent I am with you still, to cheer you and to aid ; 
 
 1 will not leave you comfortless, to sorrow here in vain, 
 I go unto my father now, and I will come again. 
 
 As I am in the Father, and in me the Father is, 
 
 Believe the words I speak to you ; not mine they are, but 
 
 His. 
 
 Believe, though for a little while, my face ye may not see, 
 My promise, that where'er I am, there you shall also be. 
 
ISAAC. 127 
 
 CHORUS OF SHEPHERDS, ETC, 
 
 Oh ! daughter of humility ! 
 
 Friend of each virtue that adorns the heart, 
 Obedience ! who like thee 
 
 Can to the faithful soul rich grace impart ! 
 A wild and savage plant, the human will 
 In its gross soil springs up, and puts forth still 
 Rank shoots, till each excrescence thou dost prune, 
 
 And graft the scions of the Maker's pleasure : 
 Then the old trunk acquires fresh vigour soon, 
 
 GOD nourishes it in abundant measures ; 
 And free and fair its branches round are thrown, 
 When thus His will becomes our own. 
 
 PART SECOND. 
 
 SARAH, alone. 
 
 Who will have pity on me ? Who will tell me 
 How my son fares ? Servants and shepherds forth 
 I have sent on every side, and none returns. 
 Alas 1 belike for pity each avoids me ; 
 Belike, already in his father's hands 
 He hath breathed out his innocent soul. Ah me I 
 Of all I love, there is none to comfort me. 
 Mine eyes do fill with tears, my strength dries up, 
 My heart is turned within me, while I look, 
 And there is none to help. Whither shall I turn ? 
 How doth the house sit solitary ; once 
 So full of people, busy and rejoicing ; 
 The ways do mourn ; the gates are desolate ; 
 The flocks in vain for their lost keeper seek ; 
 Wandering they go, without their wonted guide. 
 The shepherd smitten, scattered are the sheep ! 
 But one at least of such a multitude, 
 One only Ha ! behold one. I will seek him, 
 
128 ISAAC. 
 
 I will demand, but my heart fails. I dread 
 
 To hear his answer. Wherefore do they come 
 
 Thus in disorder ? Where is Abraham ? 
 
 What have ye witnessed ? God support me ! speak I 
 
 SARAH. GAMARI. Shepherds. 
 San Oh speak ! your silence is to me 
 More cruel than your words can be ! 
 Forbear your tidings I have read; 
 Say not to me " thy son is dead !" 
 
 Yes on the altar-stone I know 
 Ere this his precious blood must flow : 
 'Tis in my heart, and in my brain, 
 The knife with which my son was slain ! 
 
 Gam. 'Tis not through my own fault, that I return 
 So tardily from doing thy commands. 
 Know 
 
 Sar. Ah ! I know it all ^-already ; all, 
 I know, Gamari. I have no more a son. 
 Isaac is dead. 
 
 Gam. How ? When myself beheld him 
 Even now, at Mount Moriah's foot. 
 
 Sar. Ha! then- 
 Does he yet live ? Dost thou not mock me ? 
 
 Gam. Soon 
 Thou shalt embrace him. 
 
 Sar. Everlasting God ! 
 
 Has then my sorrow moved thee to compassion ! 
 Can thy command be altered or revoked ; 
 What victim, then, was offered to the Lord ? 
 
 Gam. By this time, or I err, the sacrifice 
 Must be complete ; but when I parted thence, 
 It was not. 
 
 Sar. Was not yet ? What then detained 
 Abraham at the mountain's foot so long ? 
 
ISAAC. 129 
 
 Gam. Me too this much amazed, nor did I dare 
 Nearer approach, the cause of their delay. 
 To ask. Perhaps he waited for a sign 
 From heaven. For suddenly, towards the mountain 
 I marked him going, with firm steps. He left us 
 All on the plain. He bore the sacred fire 
 In one hand ; in the other was the knife 
 
 Sar. And Isaac? 
 
 Gam. Isaac, meek and lowly went, 
 Bending beneath the burden of hewn boughs, 
 Bound up, a cumbrous load, with weary steps 
 Up the steep pathway following. 
 
 Sar. Ah, how often 
 Am I to die this day ! 
 
 Gam. When my dear lord, 
 Wearied and toiling like a bondsman thus 
 I saw, what love, what sorrow filled my heart ! 
 Beneath his heavy load, at every step, 
 I dreaded to behold him sink oppressed. 
 I felt that heavy load weigh down my soul, 
 And so much of his agony on that mount 
 I felt, that even yet upon my brow 
 Thick stands the sweat that anguish wrung from me. 
 
 Sar. In pity, from thy sad detail forbear, 
 Nor fret the deep wounds of my souj* 
 
 Gam. Behold 
 Abraham is returning. 
 
 Sar. Wo is me ! 
 The sacrifice is then complete. 
 
 Gam. Of a certainty 
 
 'Tis finished. And in Abraham's right hand 
 The knife yet drips with blood. 
 
 Sar. Oh ! let me fly 
 The cruel sight. 
 
 VOL. I. R 
 

 130 ISAAC. 
 
 SARAJJ. ABRAHAM. ISAAC. GAMARI. Sfiepherds, fyc. 
 
 Is. Mother ! 
 
 Ab. Wife! 
 
 Is. Whither goest thou ? 
 
 Ab. Whom dost thou fly? 
 
 Sar. Isaac ! Almighty God ! 
 Do I dream. Is it thyself? 
 
 Is. Mother, 'tis I. 
 
 I came to bring thee peace. To thine embrace 
 Again I come. God has unlocked for us 
 The treasures of his grace. 
 
 Sar. My son ! 
 
 Is. Thou art faint. 
 
 Sar. My son ! alas, I die ! 
 
 Ab. Support her, Isaac. 
 
 Is. Alas ! that deadly paleness these cold drops 
 
 Ab. Be not cast down nor troubled, oh, my son ! 
 Of great and sudden joy the effect thou seest 
 Is no unwonted issue. Brief repose 
 Her o'erfraught soul requires, that to herself 
 And certainty of peace she may return. 
 
 Is. How is it that a soul, which could bear up 
 Unyielding against evils numberless, 
 One happy moment thus can quite o'erpower ? 
 
 Ab. Grief wears, my son, a known familiar face, 
 While joy is ever but a transient guest. 
 
 Cast on a sea of care and pain, 
 
 Where storms for ever rage, 
 Man learns from childhood to sustain 
 
 Sorrow, his heritage. 
 
 So rarely Good his portion is, 
 
 The smile of Joy so rare, 
 The glad surprise of sudden bliss 
 
 He never learns to bear ! 
 
ISAAC. 131 
 
 Gam. Lo! Sarah breathes again ; and on the light 
 Her eyelids are reopened. 
 
 Sar. Abraham ! 
 Isaac ! Can it be true. 
 
 Is. Yes. Oh my mother ! 
 Thou art in Isaac's arms. 
 
 Sar. Thy name be blessed 
 Oh Lord most merciful ! now and for ever I 
 But Abraham, how 
 
 Ab. Hearken thou, and adore 
 Infinite goodness. On the instant when 
 I lifted up mine eyes, and afar off 
 Beheld the place the Lord revealed to me, 
 Straightway I arose ; and to the appointed hill, 
 With my son only, following near at hand, 
 And with a heart whose throbbings thou may'st guess, 
 Went forward. On the journey Isaac spake, 
 Saying, father, behold here the fire and wood, 
 But where the lamb for a burnt-offering ? 
 Sadly I answered, meeting not his eye, 
 My son, GOD will provide himself a lamb 
 For a burnt-offering. And we went on both 
 Together, climbing the ascent. And when 
 We came to the place which God had told me of, 
 I built an altar there ; and laid the wood 
 In order. I bound Isaac. 
 
 Sar. Ah ! 'twas then 
 
 He knew the whole. And how, then, unto GOD 
 Did he present himself a sacrifice ? 
 
 Ab. Even as a lamb that to the slaughter goes, 
 Innocent, meek, and opening not his mouth. 
 
 Sar. Alas ! I can imagine all the pangs 
 Of that most bitter moment. 
 
 Ab. Sarah, no : 
 
 I felt an unknown strength support me then, 
 His own mysterious gift. No more the father, ; ir.v 
 
132 ISAAC. 
 
 No more the man possessed me. For the power 
 Of faith had conquered nature. A clear light, 
 Unseen by mortal wisdom, to my thought 
 Showed marvellously linked with my son's death 
 The promises of GOD. With love and faith 
 And hope, my heart was glowing in one blaze 
 Of wondrous ecstasy, wherein I seemed 
 To hold communion with the Eternal Mind. 
 And now already on the upturned brow 
 Of kneeling Isaac was my left hand laid ; 
 My eyes were bent on heaven ; and I stretched forth 
 My hand, and took the knife to slay my son, 
 When a bright radiance, with a sudden burst 
 Of glory kindled all the air. A voice 
 Called to me out of heaven, saying, Abraham, 
 Lay not thy hand upon the lad, nor do thou 
 Any thing unto him ; for now I know 
 How much thou fearest God, seeing thou has not 
 Withheld thy son, thine only son from me, 
 Sar. I breathe once more, 
 Ab. At these awakening words, 
 My heart was moved within me. I became 
 Again the man, the father. That kind voice 
 With angel tones disarmed my steeled breast, 
 The barriers that encircled it were broken, 
 And the full flood of human sympathies 
 Gushed in with overflowing waves. Amazement, 
 Joy, gratitude, love, fear, yearnings profound, 
 Tenderness, pity, almost in one tide 
 Overwhelmed my soul. Fain would I have poured out 
 My thanks unto the Lord ; but not a sound 
 My lips could frame. Then to unbind the lad 
 With hasty hands I strove ; but those same knots 
 Which they unshaking formed, trembling they had not 
 The cunning to undo. Half-murmured words, 
 Broken with sobs of rapture, fond embraces, 
 
ISAAC. 
 
 133 
 
 Mingled with many tears even while I speak, 
 Again the strong convulsion overcomes 
 My senses. Isaac, finish thou the tale. 
 
 Is. The victim yet was wanting for the rite, 
 But God provided one, as Abraham 
 Foretold. At noise of branches rustling near, 
 We .lifted up our eyes and looked, and lo ! 
 Behind us a white ram, caught by his horns, 
 In an entangled thicket's thorny brake, 
 Strove vainly to set free his armed front. 
 On him my bonds were fastened. He being slain, 
 With guiltless blood supplied the sacred fire. 
 
 Gam. Thrice happy Abraham ! who hath to God 
 Given such clear proof of faith. 
 
 Sar. No, not therein 
 The blessing lies. Already known to God 
 
 Without such proof was Abraham. Himself 
 
 
 
 Did Abraham not know, nor the full power 
 
 Of his own confidence in GOD, who willed 
 
 To instruct him in its strength ; willed that in him 
 
 Of faith and constancy the world should have i 
 
 A glorious example, memorable 
 
 Through all succeeding ages. Oh henceforth 
 
 Pregnant be all the examples of his faith 
 
 With generous fruits ; and often, in ourselves, 
 
 May we repeat this solemn sacrifice ! 
 
 ;-./iO.'j-;i oiij lu t>C-vl ,..l-j iii 
 
 May every heart an altar prove, 
 
 Where burns the flame of sacred lovejuo^l 
 
 And be the victims of its fires 
 
 Our earth-born longings and desires : 
 
 These let us slay, and offer whole 
 
 The cherished offspring of the soul. 
 
 V fnc9rf uom jgaH ,-u& 
 A son devoted, in his eyes 
 Is not a worthier sacrifice, 
 
134 ISAAC. 
 
 Than to subdue the hosts of sin, 
 That ever press the soul to win, 
 And give the heart, in follies lost, 
 To him entire, a holocaust ! 
 
 Ab. Be silent. Heaven is opening. 
 
 The angel appears. 
 Angel. Abraham, 
 I come to thee again, a messenger 
 From GOD. With thine obedience, and thy proof 
 Of perfect faith, he is well pleased. Because 
 Thou hast done this thing, and not withheld thy son, 
 Thine only son, he doth renew to thee 
 His promises. In blessing he will bless thee, 
 In multiplying he will multiply 
 Thy seed even as the stars of heaven, or sands 
 On the sea shore ; and in them, in due time, 
 Shall all the nations of the earth be bless'd. 
 
 In the fulness of ages 
 
 Thy progeny glorious, 
 Shall come o'er his enemies 
 
 Trampling victorious : 
 
 Their gates shall fly open, 
 Their hosts shrink before him, 
 
 In the face of the nations 
 
 Who shall kneel and adore him ! 
 
 From GOD is the promise, 
 His foes long shall mourn it ; 
 
 He can swear by no greater, 
 By HIMSELF he hath sworn it. 
 
 Sar. Hast thou heard, Abraham ? 
 
 Is. He hears not. Father ! 
 
 Sar. What glory lightens o'er his features ! 
 
ISAAC. 135 
 
 Ab. God 
 
 Omnipotent ! with what mysterious types 
 
 This day thou makest known thy will. The father 
 
 Offers his only son. The son accepts 
 
 Of his free will the dreadful penalty, 
 
 Which he had never merited. Oh why 
 
 Bears he the fatal instrument of death, 
 
 On his own bending shoulder ? For what end, 
 
 Among so many, chosen is that mount ? 
 
 Why is the victim's head plucked from the thorns 1 
 
 In visions of the future I am rapt : 
 
 With other blood I see that mountain stained ; 
 
 Another Son I see, bowing his head 
 
 Meekly, unto his Father's hand commend 
 
 His spirit. The hills shake ! The graves are opened ! 
 
 And the thick blackness of profoundest night 
 
 Covers all heaven ! I read the mystery ! 
 
 Thanks, thanks, redeeming God ! This is that day, 
 
 I have desired to see ! This is that blood, 
 
 An infinite recompense for infinite guilt ! 
 
 This is that sacrifice which must be made, 
 
 That satisfies and reconciles at once 
 
 Eternal Justice and Eternal Love ! 
 
 This is that death which unto man redeemed 
 
 Unfolds the gates of everlasting life ! 
 
 CHORUS OF SHEPHERDS, ETC. 
 
 So long does the Most High, 
 Ere rolling ages in their order staid 
 Shall bring forth the ripe time of prophecy, 
 
 Prepare to break the bonds that sin has wrought. 
 Is such the costly ransom to be paid, 
 
 Ere man's immortal freedom can be bought, 
 His guilty race from thraldom to deliver ? 
 
 Thus in its counsels wills the Eternal Mind. 
 Oh let us lose the purchased blessings never, 
 
 Of his dear care, who hath so loved mankind I 
 

 
 ni a wo 2u{ ftO 
 
 ojfljj //hfoo 
 
 

 THE CAIO GRACCO OF MONTI. 
 
 VOL. I. SJ 
 
[THE article which follows is a remarkable example of the 
 facility of Mr. Sands in composition. It was written, including 
 the translations, in the course of a single evening. It appeared 
 in 1824 in the Atlantic Magazine, of which he was then the 
 editor.] 
 
 
THE CAIO GRACCO OF MONTI. 
 
 THE three tragedies of Vincenzo Monti stand in the 
 highest rank of modern dramatic compositions ; and are not 
 unworthy of a comparison with the noblest productions of 
 the ancient writers. Though he sometimes imitates their 
 excellences, it is in a manner not unworthy of the great 
 originals, from whom he is not afraid to borrow. It is not 
 our intention, however, at present, to enter into any exami 
 nation of the merits of his dramas ; but merely to give a 
 succinct account of their several plots, for the purpose of 
 introducing such specimens of his manner as a translation 
 nearly literal will allow. In future numbers, we shall 
 probably notice his Aristodemo and Galeotto Manfredi, 
 with his other poetical productions. At present, we pro 
 pose to give a brief sketch of his Caio Gracco, which, as an 
 heroic tragedy, we prefer to the Aristodemo, though there 
 are different opinions as to their relative merits. 
 
 The tragedy opens with a soliloquy of Gracchus, as he 
 enters Rome at night, having just arrived from Egypt, 
 where he had razed Carthage to the ground. His return, 
 as he afterward mentions, had been expedited by the mes 
 sages of Marcus Fulvius, who had hitherto enjoyed his 
 confidence, and had warned him that the patrician power 
 was increasing, and that the popular laws he had introduced 
 were in danger. 
 
140 THE CAIO GRACCO OP MONTI. 
 
 ACT I. SCENE I. 
 
 Caius solus. 
 
 La ! Caius, thou'rt in Rome. Here have I entered, 
 Unseen, protected by the friendly night. 
 Gracchus is with thee, Rome ! have courage yet ! 
 Silence reigns all around ; in soundest sleep 
 Rest, from the cares of the laborious day, 
 The toiling people. O ye good and true 
 And only Romans ! Sweet your slumbers are, 
 By labour seasoned ; undisturbed, because 
 Remorse comes not to trouble them. 
 
 Meantime, 
 
 'Mid the rank steam of their inebriate feasts, 
 The nobles revel the assassins base 
 Of my loved Brother ; or in conclave dark 
 Perchance enclosed, my death the miscreants plot, 
 And forge their chains for Roman liberty ; 
 Nor know how dread an enemy is nigh. 
 But now enough of this. From dangers past 
 Safe, here I press my fathers' threshold. Yes, 
 This is my own loved threshold. Oh my mother ! 
 Oh my Licinia ! Oh my son ! I come 
 At length to end your woes, and with me bring 
 Three powerful furies Rage, for my wronged country, 
 Love for my friends, and Vengeance, as the third- 
 Yea, Vengeance, for a brother's massacre ! 
 
 As Gracchus is about to enter his own porch, Fulvius 
 appears, followed by a slave, whom he despatches with 
 hasty words of encouragement, and injunctions of silence, 
 to execute a dangerous and dreadful murder. The poor 
 slave, however, has no sooner left him, than he pronounces 
 his certain doom, as the only sure seal of secrecy. Though 
 it is anticipating the development of the plot, it may be men 
 tioned here, that Fulvius was the lover of the sister of 
 Gracchus, who was the wife of JErailianus ; and that, by 
 an agreement between the guilty pair, the slave was now 
 commissioned to assassinate the most illustrious Roman of 
 that age. Gracchus was himself the avowed and deter- 
 

 THE CAIO GRACCO OF MONTI. 141 
 
 mined enemy of ^Emilianus ; from the part he had taken 
 with the patricians in the civil commotions, when Tiberius 
 Gracchus was slain by Scipio Nasica. He was yet, how 
 ever, entirely ignorant of the guilt of Fulvius ; and of the 
 ultimate ends which he proposed to himself, by espousing 
 so warmly the popular side. He meets him with joy, and 
 a dialogue ensues on the past and present state of affairs, 
 too long for translation. Fulvius alludes darkly to the 
 assassination of ^Emilianus, in language then unintelligible 
 to Gracchus ; but as he is insisting on a clear explanation, 
 he is interrupted by the approach of his mother Cornelia 
 and his wife Licinia, leading his son by the hand, who are 
 leaving their home, accompanied by a freedman. They 
 were going to the house of ^Emilianus, who had warned 
 them of the approaching troubles, and offered them the 
 protection of his roof. Gracchus is incensed on hearing 
 this ; and Fulvius ventures to expostulate with the lofty 
 Cornelia ; who, on learning his name, reproaches Gracchus 
 with having such a companion ; and informs him that Ful 
 vius is plotting against the virtue of his sister, and had that 
 day been expelled from his house by her husband. She 
 retires within her house, and Gracchus follows, after bid 
 ding Fulvius prepare to exculpate himself. 
 
 In the second act, the consul Opimius and Drusus (one 
 of the tribunes) meet at daybreak in the Forum. 
 
 Drusus. The earliest ray of morning scarce has lit 
 The summits of the Palatine ; and yet, 
 Already, without lictors, and alone, 
 Goes forth the Roman consul 1 On this day, 
 With honour big to thee, disgrace to Gracchus, 
 And triumph to the senate, every eye 
 Turns on Opimius. Humbly to his charge 
 The people trust their destiny, the great 
 Their fortunes, Rome her quiet long disturbed, 
 Weary of broils. And stands he idly here 
 And, shall I say, forgetful of his friends, 
 And of himself] 
 
142 THE CAIO GRACCO OP MONTI. 
 
 In the dialogue which ensues, Opimius informs Drusus 
 that Gracchus is in Rome ; which he had learned by means 
 of his spies ; and that it is his intention to have an inter 
 view with him, in order, under pretence of reasoning him 
 into forbearance, to drive him to some sudden act which 
 might lead to his destruction. Gracchus enters, with the 
 people, shouting his name, and denouncing the patricians. 
 He persuades them to retire ; and an admirable scene 
 follows between Opimius and Gracchus, which we cannot 
 give entire, and which does not admit of selections. 
 Drusus enters, and announces the sudden death of ^Emili- 
 anus, and that it was whispered that he perished by vio 
 lence. Cornelia also enters with the tidings ; and a dread 
 ful suspicion crosses the mind of Gracchus, as the hints of 
 Fulvius on the preceding night recur to his recollection. 
 His confusion is remarked by Opimius and Drusus, who 
 retire to consult their measures on the hint thus obtained. 
 As Caius is meditating on his suspicions, Fulvius enters, 
 who does not deny his guilt, but justifies it as an act of 
 patriotism. He descants on the tyranny, pride, and cruelty 
 of the Scipios, both at home and abroad ; and vindicates 
 himself still further on the ground, that Gracchus had him 
 self said that ^Emilianus deserved death as a tyrant ; and 
 that he had therefore only acted the part of a friend in 
 obeying the suggestion. We give the remainder of the 
 dialogue, which concludes the second act. 
 
 Caius. Thou my friend, villain ! I have never been 
 The friend of profligates. Oh ! that the bolt 
 Of justice would descend with heaviest crash, 
 Scattering the miscreants, who, through paths of blood, 
 Find out not liberty, but chains for man, 
 Making more horrible than servitude 
 Even liberty itself. Say not, blasphemer, 
 Say not such sentiment was ever mine. 
 I wished him dead but by the awful axe 
 Of public justice, which shall one day fall 
 On thy base neck. Thou hast brought upon my name 
 Fearful disgrace and tremble ! 
 
THE CAIO GRACCO OF MONTI. 143 
 
 Ful. Gracchus, cease 
 These outrages. I counsel thee desist. 
 And be this act unjust or just, do thou 
 Reap of my deed the harvest and be silent. 
 Force me not to say more. 
 
 Cam*. What more"? 
 
 Ful. That which 
 I may not utter. ,,, 
 
 Cams. What 1 of further crimes 7 
 Ful. I know not. 
 
 Cam*. Knowest thou not 7 cold horror creeps 
 Upon me, and I dare not ask thee more. 
 Ful. Thou hast good reason for't. 
 
 Cam*. What say est thou 7 
 
 Ful. Nothing. 
 
 Cains. His words torment my heart. O ! what a thought 
 Flashes, with horrid light across my brain 7 
 Hast thou accomplices ? 
 
 Ful. Ay. 
 
 Cams. Who 7 
 
 Ful. Insensate, 
 Demand no more. 
 
 Cams. I will know. 
 
 Ful. Have a care, 
 Thou wilt repent of this. 
 
 Cams. No more. I will know. 
 Ful. Thou wilt 7 ask then thy sister. (Exit.). 
 Cams, (solus) Ask my sister 7 
 Has she been in her husband's murder part 7 
 Oh damning guilt ! the Gracchi's stainless name 
 Spotted with everlasting infamy ! 
 With infamy 7 How at the thought I feel 
 The damp hairs rise with horror o'er my brow ! 
 Where shall I hide my head 7 and in what wave 
 Wash the deep shame from this dishonoured front 7 
 What's to be done 7 I hear a dreadful voice 
 That murmurs in my soul, and shrieks out there 
 Go speed thee take the forfeit of her guilt ! 
 Terrible voice of honour thus betrayed, 
 Voice of my ancestry ! I will obey. 
 For blood thou criest blood thou shalt have. I swear it. 
 
 The third act opens with a scene between Cornelia, 
 Licinia, and Gracchus, in which the majesty of the Roman 
 
144 THE CAIO GRACCO OF MONTI. 
 
 matron, and the dignified tenderness and apprehensions of 
 the wife of Gracchus, are displayed with great power and 
 beauty. Cornelia endeavours to persuade her son to desist 
 from his purpose of investigating the circumstances of 
 Scipio's death ; well aware that the result would bring dis 
 grace upon her daughter and her family. We pass on to 
 the scene which follows. 
 
 (A crier advances, bearing a decree of the Senate, which he suspends on a 
 pillar, and the people collect in a hasty manner to read it. A citizen, having 
 observed it, approaches Gracchus, who stands absorbed in grief, and shakes him 
 by the mantle.) 
 
 Cit. Gracchus, behold ! observest thou the decree ? 
 Approach and read it. 
 
 Caius. (reading) LET THE CONSUL LOOK 
 THAT THE REPUBLIC DO SUSTAIN NO HARM. 
 
 Cit. Beware, unfortunate Roman ! this decree 
 Bodes danger to thy life. 
 
 Licinia. What do I hear ? 
 
 Caius. I see it ; and I thank thee courteous friend : 
 Thou art, or I mistake, thou art Quintilius 1 
 
 Cit. The same, and still thy friend. Coraggio ! (exit.) 
 Cornelia. Turn, Gracchus, and behold 'midst all the people, 
 This way advancing, proud Opimius comes. 
 Awake ! the hour has come to try thy soul. 
 Caius. Depart, and fear not. 
 
 Corn. Give me thine hand. 
 
 Caius. 'Tis there ; 
 Feel if it tremble. 
 
 Corn. No 'tis firm, and tells me, 
 That better know'st thou how to die, than how 
 To forfeit honour. I am well content. 
 
 Caius. Licinia, fare thee well ! if this embrace 
 Should be if fate support the unhappy woman, 
 Oh mother I consciousness hath left her quite. 
 Farewell ! I trust to thee my wife, my son. 
 
 (Cornelia retires supporting Licinia.) 
 Caius. (pausing before the statue of his father) 
 Oh thou, who from that silent marble speakest 
 To thy son's constant heart ! unconquered sire ! 
 I feel thy summons ; thou shall be content. 
 Or Rome this day is free, or soon I too, 
 A naked ghost, shall rush to thine embrace ! 
 
THE CAIO GRACCO OP MONTI. 145 
 
 Opimius now enters, preceded by the lictors, and fol 
 lowed by the senators, tribunes, and populace. He addresses 
 the people in an harangue of great art and eloquence, and 
 divides them in their opinions. Gracchus, after a short 
 tumult, obtains leave to speak. 
 
 Caius. (from the tribunal) This is the last time I shall speak to you, 
 
 My countrymen. My enemies and yours 
 
 Have on my death resolved. I owe ye thanks, 
 
 That to my lips allowing their free speech, 
 
 Ye will not suffer me to die infamous. 
 
 And greater infamy can a Roman know, 
 
 Than with the name of tyrant on his front 
 
 Branded, to pass among the silent dead 1 
 
 A murdered brother's ghost will meet me there, 
 
 See me all covered with inglorious wounds, 
 
 And cry, " What hand hath wrought this shame 1 from whence 
 
 These gory trenches ?" And what answer, then, 
 
 Shall I return, O Romans 1 Those same hands, 
 
 Will I reply, have me to slaughter dragged, 
 
 Which butchered thee, that day the people left 
 
 Ungrateful, their defender to his foes, 
 
 When thy sad corse lay in the open street, 
 
 Horribly mangled, and thy forehead rent 
 
 Wide with a grisly wound thine innocent blood 
 
 Ran in long streams as, like some worthless wreck, 
 
 They cast thy corse, yet warm, in Tyber's wave, 
 
 Which, for the first time stained with Roman blood 
 
 In civil conflict spilt, flowed to the sea. 
 
 Nor aught availed thee then the tribune's rank, 
 
 Which made thy person sacred. And I too, 
 
 My tale will run, was by patrician hate 
 
 Murdered. I too, for the same crimes condemned, 
 
 Was called a tyrant ; I, whose every thought 
 
 Was to my country only consecrated ; 
 
 I, who redeemed the people from the bonds 
 
 Of their insatiate lords ; I, who restored 
 
 Their ravished rights to their paternal fields ; 
 
 I who am poor, plebeian, I who have been 
 
 The eternal torment of all tyrants I 
 
 Too am a tyrant ! Oh my countrymen f 
 
 Is this the wages that your servants gain ? 
 
 3d Citizen. Gracchus, take heart. The people is not thus 
 VOL. I.- 
 
146 THE CAIO GRACCO OF MONTI. 
 
 Ungrateful, and none here thinks thee a tyrant. 
 Speak boldly in your argument, and fear not. 
 
 Caius. Here let the oppressor fear. Am I, forsooth, 
 Of the patrician temper 1 Did I fear 
 When at the imminent peril of my life, 
 I dared surround your prostrate liberties, 
 With solemn laws, as bulwarks ? I am he, 
 Oh Rome, acknowledge me ! I am he, who 
 Against the unjust, usurping senate stood, 
 And made the people free yea, made them kings; 
 All powerful. And in this have I offended ? 
 Answer me, countrymen, was this my crime 1 
 3d Cit. No ; here we all are kings. 
 
 2*Z Cit. And in the people 
 All power resides. 
 
 1st Cit. The senate of our will 
 Is executor, and no more. 
 
 Caius. Your foe 
 
 Is then declared, who charges as my sin 
 Your perfect liberty, and makes his moan, 
 Ever, o'er lost patrician tyranny. 
 Three hundred base and hireling senators 
 Sat in the judgment seat. The strong broke through, 
 Or bought exemption from the feeble bonds 
 Of law, and poverty became a vice. 
 I overthrew this venal, odious court, 
 And thrice a hundred judges, of stanch faith 
 And incorrupt, I added. So the people 
 Had their due share of the judicial power. 
 Now, Romans, who, for this most holy work, 
 Dares censure Caius Gracchus before you ? 
 Who ? an Opimius, and those same, same traitors, 
 To whom the market of your lives and fortunes 
 Was barred by me. Oh virtue, name how vain ! 
 Mocked by the wicked and the vile ! ah ! where 
 Now wilt thou rear thy throne, when even here, 
 Here, in the centre of all famous Rome, 
 And all her sacred gods, thou bearest the name 
 Of guilt, and so art punished ! 
 
 An old Man. True ; too true, 
 'Tis dangerous to be warm in virtue's cause. 
 Surely, some god is reasoning from his lips. 
 
 Caius. By the great goodness of the immortal gods, 
 Bom in the lap of this fair Italy, 
 
THE CAIO GRACCO OF MONTI. 147 
 
 The rights of Roman citizenship I deemed 
 Common to all her soil ; from slavery 
 Redeemed, and made her the world's greatest nation. 
 You, Romans, you, renowned, illustrious sons 
 Of this loved mother, will you, as a crime, 
 Impute to me her rescued liberty 1 
 
 1st Cit. No ; we are all Italians ; one sole people, 
 One single family. 
 
 People. Italians all, 
 Arid brethren. 
 
 Old Man. Oh delightful sound ! Oh words 
 Noble, divine ! these tears for joy o'erflow. 
 
 Coins. Oh ! now indeed I hear the shouts sublime, 
 Of Romans worthy ; and behold the tears 
 Worthy of men. But cease your griefs awhile ; 
 Hear my last damning crime ; and not of grief, 
 But the hot tears of madness and of wrath, 
 Will ye pour forth, oh people much abused ! 
 Grant me your patient audience. Of your lords 
 The insatiate avarice, that on your woes 
 Remorseless trampled, had by rapine seized 
 All your possessions and had only left 
 Your souls to tenant their debased abodes. 
 Your tyrants left ye life, but to enjoy 
 Your never ceasing sorrows but to tread 
 On your bowed necks draw tight your servile bonds, 
 And, as the climax of your wrongs, despise ye 
 Even for the sufferance themselves enforced. 
 Now hear my crime, my most unheard offence, 
 Whose total sum I in two words express 
 To give you back your own to give you back 
 So much of earth, as with a little dust, 
 Might hide your over-toiled and wearied bones. 
 Oh miserable brethren ! the wild beasts 
 Have 'mid the desert rocks and savage woods, 
 Some lair, where each may lay his limbs in peace, 
 And shun the assaults of the inclement skies. 
 You, Romans, you, who 'neath an iron load, 
 O'er the whole earth expose to painful death 
 Your lives in Rome's behalf you, the world's masters, 
 Nought in this world possess save what not even 
 All-grasping avarice can take away, 
 The common air and light. Along our plains, 
 Ye wander idly ; fainting by your sides, 
 With famine, sad and piteous company ! 
 
148 THE CAIO GRACCO OF MONTI. 
 
 Your squalid wives and naked babes attend, 
 Who cry for bread. 
 
 Meantime, their banquets high, 
 Drunk with rich wine and lustful surfeits, hold 
 The gown-robed harpies, with some wanton strain 
 Feeding their ears : and all this, which their gorge 
 Insatiable devours, is your own blood. 
 Your blood has bought their dazzling palaces, 
 Bright with barbaric pomp, and trapped with gold ; 
 Their perfumes from Arabia, and the die 
 Sidonian, and their sumptuous carpetings ; 
 Their wide domains and regal villas, reared 
 By Tiber, or in shady Tusculum ; 
 Their paintings and their statues ; in one word, 
 All that ministers to their pride, has cost 
 Rivers of blood, in hard fought battles drawn 
 From your own bosoms, by the hostile swords, 
 And nothing, save their vices, is their own. 
 
 Unjust, cruel patricians ! and they dare 
 To call yow, on the toilsome fields of war, 
 Laggards and rebels, they who have debauched, 
 With customs stolen from the lascivious East, 
 The ancient Latine strain severe, and changed 
 Our camps to brothels ; they, who battening free 
 On subject nations and the empire's wealth, 
 To die by famine leave our soldiery, 
 And drive them to complaint and to despair, 
 Until they make them robbers. They, forsooth, 
 Mourn for our ancient discipline destroyed ; 
 They, in the hour of joining battles, shout, 
 " Fight for your household gods, your fathers' tombs !" 
 But which of ye, oh wretched countrymen ! 
 Which of ye hath or altar, or hearth stone, 
 Or poor paternal sepulchre ? 
 
 People (with a loud shout). Not one ! 
 Not one ! 
 
 Caius. For whom then do ye rush to death 1 
 For whose sake have ye gained those scars, whose large 
 And crimsoned characters I see appear, 
 Through each worn tunic's rents ? Oh ! let me kiss 
 Those honourable wounds ! their sight o'erpowers 
 My heart too much with pity ; and at once 
 I thrill with anger, and dissolve in tears. 
 
 Zd Cit. Poor Caius ! see, he weeps for us he weeps, 
 Magnanimous heart ! 
 
THE CAIO GRACCO OP MONTI. 149 
 
 A tumult soon ensues ; and the lictor Antilius, in endea 
 vouring to drive back the people, is stabbed by Fulvius and 
 his followers. Gracchus throws himself from the tribunal, 
 to save the life of Opimius, and prevent the effusion of more 
 blood. He cites Opimius to appear before the people, on 
 the expiration of his consulship ; and persuades the multi 
 tude to disperse quietly. Fulvius departs, full of vexation 
 at this unexpected clemency. Opimius, determined on 
 revenge, after giving private orders to one of his creatures, 
 retires followed by the senators. 
 
 In the fourth act, as Cornelia is discoursing with Grac 
 chus on the dangerous magnanimity he had just displayed, 
 the forum is surrounded by armed mercenaries, and he finds 
 himself in the power of his enemies. One of the finest scenes 
 in the drama ensues between Cornelia, Gracchus, and Li- 
 cinia, whose prophetic appenls to his conjugal and paternal 
 tenderness at length overpower her husband's resolution to 
 go forth and confront his enemies, at the certain peril of his 
 life. At this juncture, a citizen enters, and informs Grac 
 chus that a rumour is abroad, implicating him with his sister 
 and Fulvius, in the murder of JSmilianus. On hearing 
 this he rushes from the portico. While his wife breaks out 
 into uncontrolled anguish, Cornelia here preserves the 
 firmness and dignity of her character, and her devotion to 
 the glory of her son, though preserved only by a violent 
 death. 
 
 SCENE v. 
 
 Cornelia, sola. 
 
 Is 'there on earth a family more wretched, 
 A heart with more distracting tortures torn, 
 Than mine ? The daughter of great Africanus 
 And mother of the Gracchi, once was I 
 For 8ch fair names renowned I, who was wooed 
 Once to a monarch's nuptials, quite deserted, 
 Of all this pageantry, have only left 
 The melancholy splendour of my woes. 
 Two sons I bore for Rome ; two noble sons ; 
 
150 THE CAIO ORACCO OF MONTI. 
 
 Rome of her freedom weary, murdered them 
 
 And by what hands ! Alas ! it is a crime 
 
 To give life to great souls ; and those are praised 
 
 Only, who bring forth profligates. Such praise 
 
 Let mothers of Opimii win ; but me 
 
 It better pleases, that my sons should perish 
 
 Mangled and pierced, than live in infamy. 
 
 But I must follow his disastrous path 
 
 Ah me ! what crowd draws nigh ] a funeral bier 
 
 In solemn train, the mournful senators 
 
 Uprear it on their shoulders. How the sight 
 
 Freezes my veins. It is dead Scipio's hearse. 
 
 My heart fails, and my feet seem clogged to earth. 
 
 Oh, impious daughter ! what a deed was thine ! 
 
 Enter Opimius and the Senators, carrying the Her of JEmilianus. Lictors and 
 
 People. 
 
 Opimius. Here, for a while, set down your funeral load. 
 People, friends, senators, 'tis here we owe 
 The last sad tribute that the public grief 
 Can pay the best of men. There never was, 
 There never will be juster cause for tears. 
 Romans ! your father, and your empire's light, 
 Yea, the world's glory, lie in this sad hearse, 
 For ever quenched in darkness. Oh, what strength, 
 What grandeur from the power of Rome has pass'd ! 
 How at the tidings will the realms rejoice 
 Of Asia and of Afric ; for the arm 
 Invincible, that made their armies quake, 
 Is now for ever palsied ; and in vain 
 We, with our tears, demand him back to life. 
 Where art thou, Quintus Fabius? At my side 
 Heretofore have I seen thee art thou here 1 
 Oh Fabius ! ever in my mind resounds 
 Thy sentiment sublime " It was," thou saidst, 
 " It was the eternal will of destiny, 
 That there the empire of the world should be, 
 Where was a soul so great." I thank the gods, 
 Who here ordained his birth ; but I must weep, 
 That they so soon have rapt his spirit hence, 
 And deemed us too unworthy of the gift. 
 Lcelius, art thou too here, example proud 
 Of an immortal friendship 1 Agony 
 Restrains thy tears. Entranced in silent grief, 
 

 THE CAIO ORACCO OP MONTI. 151 
 
 Thou lookest upon this sable couch of death. 
 
 Whom seekest thou 1 thy Scipio and thy friend 1 
 
 Behold him shrouded in his feral robe, 
 
 For ever lost to life silent, for ever. 
 
 Nor ever more thine ear shall drink his words 
 
 Majestic, with sublimest reasoning fraught, 
 
 Breathing high love of country, and imbued 
 
 With heavenly wisdom. Nor shall thou behold him 
 
 Fulmine amid the foes, and from the clouds 
 
 Of battle breaking, with a front serene, 
 
 Stretch the right hand of mercy to the fallen, 
 
 Mourn with them, and console them in defeat ; 
 
 Thus still, in war or peace, exhibiting 
 
 A godlike spirit in a human form. 
 
 Kind as a son, a brother, and a friend, 
 
 Generous, courteous, modest, and sedate, 
 
 A perfect citizen, his heart the shrine 
 
 Where every Roman virtue had a place ; 
 
 Such was the hero so untimely lost, 
 
 And by what means 7 
 
 Romans, I do not seek, 
 I do not wish to turn your pious grief 
 To sudden fury. I will not disclose 
 How black a crime has been committed. Never, 
 Oh ! never may ye know, that ye have lost 
 Your father by a vile assassin's blow. 
 People. Speak. We will know it all. 
 
 Our limits will not permit us to pursue this scene any 
 farther. The manner in which Opimius uncovers the corse 
 of Scipio, and excites the people by the spectacle, and 
 gradually works them into indignation and fury against their 
 late idol, reminds us frequently of the funeral oration of 
 Antony. The resemblance is however simply in the man 
 ner and the circumstances. In another drama Monti has 
 not scrupled to adopt the ideas and language of Shakspeare. 
 
 Just as the citizens have been led to the conviction that- 
 Gracchus was accessory to the strangling of his brother-in- 
 law, Drusus enters, and informs the consul, that a bloody 
 contest was taking place on the Aventine Hill, between the 
 soldiery and the people, who had been roused to acts of vio- 
 
152 THE CAIO GRACCO OF MONTI. 
 
 lence by the oratory of Gracchus. As he is describing the 
 scene of confusion which had taken place, Lentulus, a ven 
 erable patrician, is led wounded across the stage. The 
 senators unite in swearing vengeance over the bier of Mmi- 
 lianus ; and while a part of them escort the dead body to 
 the tomb of the Scipios, the rest, conducted by Opimius, 
 and followed by the inflamed citizens, rush to the scene^ of 
 civil conflict. 
 
 In the first scene of the fifth act, the forum is deserted, 
 and Licinia appears alone, uncertain of her husband's fate, 
 and distracted with apprehensions for his safety. 
 
 Licinia. What melancholy silence reigns ! Ah me ! 
 What mournful solitude ! The forum vacant * 
 The streets deserted I behold alone 
 The wo-begone and horror-stricken faces 
 Of aged men lamenting ; other sound 
 I hear not, save the cries of mothers lone, 
 The shrieks and sobs of desolate wives, who call 
 Wildly upon their husbands and their sons. 
 I too am here a mourner, and demand 
 From unrelenting heaven, the cruel one, 
 Who in my grief has thus abandoned me. 
 Yes, thou art cruel, Caius ! For thou couldst 
 Thou couldst desert me. Idle were my tears, 
 And vain my sorrows. Who can tell me now 
 Where danger meets thee ? Who, alas ! can tell me 
 If yet thou art alive 1 
 
 An old man passes, dragging his son from the sanguinary 
 tumult ; and from their conversation, Licinia believes that 
 her husband has fallen a victim to his own magnanimity. 
 Cornelia follows, agitated and silent, who presently brings 
 out the son of Caius, followed by the faithful freedman. 
 We pass over the pathetic colloquy which ensues, and the 
 varying rumours brought by flying citizens, as they hurry 
 across the forum from the scene of conflict. The struggle 
 has terminated in favour of the patricians, and their depend 
 ants and mercenaries. We hasten to the last scene, in 
 
THE CAIO GRACCO OF MONTI. 153 
 
 which Gracchus enters, flying from the weapons of the 
 hireling soldiery. 
 
 Gains. A sword, O mother ! 
 A sword, if thou hast pity. In my death 
 Let not this base man triumph. 
 
 Cor. Let the tyrant 
 Thus vaunt ? O never ! 
 
 Caius. Quick, then, oh my mother ! 
 A sword thou hast it give it me and save me 
 The shame of perishing by ignoble hands. 
 
 [ Opimius enter S) followed by the patricians and soldiers. 
 Opim. Behold him against him let down your arms. 
 
 Cornelia, [throwing herself between Caius and the soldiers] 
 Then through this bosom they must enter first, 
 Ere they pierce his. 
 
 Licinia. And through mine, ruffians, too. 
 Opim. Soldiers, by force withdraw these dames, and strike 
 The guilty. To the safety of the state 
 His head must be devoted. Strike ! 
 
 Cornelia, [veiling her head in her mantle with one hand, and with the 
 
 other extending the dagger to Gracchus] My son, 
 Take it, and die in honour. 
 
 Caius. By this gift, 
 
 I know thee, O my mother ! By this blow, 
 
 Know thou thy son ! (Stabs himself. Licinia falls senseless on his 
 body.) 
 
 We have not attempted to introduce any versions of the 
 powerful dialogues of this drama, as it would have pro 
 tracted our remarks too far. The author has wisely put 
 into the mouth of Opimius cogent arguments against the 
 levelling principles of Gracchus ; and though the whole in 
 terest of the drama centres in the latter, and his fate is 
 brought on by the machinations of personal enmity and ar 
 bitrary power, we cannot but regard him as a visionary, as 
 well as a martyr. The unities are observed as strictly as 
 they ever can be, without the violation of probability ; and 
 the principal characters are preserved throughout with the 
 greatest precision and propriety ; being, alike in their gran 
 deur or their weakness, * veri, soli Romani? 
 
 VOL. I. U 
 
THE GARDEN OF VENUS. 
 
[THE version from Politian which follows, appeared in the 
 New- York Review for May 1826, with the following introduction 
 by Mr. Sands : 
 
 " MESSRS. EDITORS I enclose you an attempt at translation, 
 which you may use at your pleasure. It is a version of part of 
 the fragment of Angelo Poliziano, composed for the tournament 
 of Julian de Medici, celebrated as one of the most classical poems 
 of the fifteenth century. As such, it has received the approbation 
 of all intelligent critics, from Paulus Jovius, the contemporary of 
 the author, to the elegant English biographer of Lorenzo de 
 Medici. The merit of the writer consists by no means in his 
 originality ; his production is a mere canto of the beauties of the 
 ancient poets ; and in particular of Ovid and Virgil. But the 
 felicity with which he has transplanted them is singular, and the 
 propriety of their combination is wonderful. He may be com* 
 pared, as a great modern Greek scholar has been, to a statuary, 
 who selects from the works of the old masters different minute 
 subjects of imitation, and produces from them all a perfect whole. 
 
 " From reading Politian's rhymes, I was led to translate them ; 
 and found it, I can assure you, no easy experiment. The struc 
 ture of his verse, and terseness of his style, require a translation 
 in almost every instance of line for line, preserving th metre of 
 the ottava rima. If you are disposed to criticise my verses, I 
 advise you to try your own hands at a translation of the original, 
 before you express any unqualified sentence of condemnation. 
 If the author was only in his fifteenth year when he composed 
 the fragment from which they are rendered (and such is the evi 
 dence afforded by his contemporaries), he ranks high among the 
 prodigies of premature intellect, which have occasionally appeared 
 in the world ; far beyond Pope, even in the power of imitation ; 
 and happier than most of those who are recorded for the precocity 
 of their talents, in securing to himself the efficient patronage of 
 an illustrious family of princes, under whose auspices he flour 
 ished, and after whose declension he is said, by some writers, to 
 have died, from melancholy and regret for their loss."] 
 
* 
 
 THE GARDEN OF VENUS. 
 
 
 From the First Book of the Stanzas of Angela Poliziano, 
 commenced on occasion of the Tournament of Julian de 
 Medici. 
 
 Now aid me of this realm of bliss to tell, 
 
 Fair Erato ! whose name and Love's are one ; 
 
 Thou, albeit chaste, alone secure mayest dwell 
 Within the realm of Venus and her son ; 
 
 Thou, sole art mistress of the amorous shell ; 
 Love often chants with thee in unison ; 
 
 And while his fatal quiver harmless lies, 
 
 Awakes thy lute's enchanting harmonies. 
 
 i 
 A pleasant mount overlooks the Cyprian isle, 
 
 Which, when the horizon glows with earliest day, 
 Beholds the seven horns of ancient Nile ; 
 
 Along its steeps no mortal foot may stray ; 
 Upon the summit of its towering pile, 
 
 A fair green hill o'ertops a meadow gay, 
 Where wanton airs with flowers are dallying still, 
 And the young herbage with soft tremors fill. 
 
158 THE GARDEN OF VENUS. 
 
 Walls of bright gold its farthest borders gird, 
 With a thick hedge of choice and graceful trees ; 
 
 'Mid the fresh foliage many an amorous bird 
 Chants all day long his tender melodies ; 
 
 S oft is the sound of murmuring waters heard, 
 Welling from fountains twain, whose properties 
 
 Are twofold ; sweet and bitter are their waves, 
 
 And therein Love his golden arrows laves. 
 
 Nor ever is that eternal garden's hue 
 
 Whitened with the young frost, or sheeted snow : 
 There icy winter never dares break through, 
 
 Nor surly winds on herb or blossom blow ; 
 Nor years their changing quarters ever knew ; 
 
 But laughing spring fails not her smile to show ; 
 Flings her wild golden tresses on the air, 
 And weaves with thousand flowers her chaplet fair. 
 
 Love's brethren on the banks, a wicked fry, 
 Whose arrows teach the vulgar herd to feel, 
 
 With clamours shrill and childhood's frolic cry, 
 Sharpen their bolt-heads with malicious zeal ; 
 
 While Pleasure and Deceit are ever nigh, 
 To turn the handle of the cruel wheel ; 
 
 False Hope and vain Desire attend thereon, 
 
 And with the sparkling fountain -wet the stone. 
 
 And pleasing Fear and timorous Delight 
 
 Together go ; sweet Quarrels, sweeter Peace ; 
 
 The Tears, their bosoms sad o'erflowing quite, 
 Therewith the bitter streamlet's tide increase ; 
 
 Uneasy Love, exanimate Affright, 
 
 To pine with Care and Sickness never cease ; 
 
 Sleepless Suspicion every corner spies, 
 
 And bounding Joy through the mid pathway flies. 
 
'f' 
 
 THE GARDEN OP VENUS. 159 
 
 Pleasure with Beauty revels in deep bliss ; 
 
 Content flits by, while Anguish sits to mourn ; 
 Blind Error strays now here, now there amiss ; 
 
 Mad Fury's cheeks by his own hands are torn ; 
 Sad Penitence, her crime too late who sees, 
 
 .Flings herself on the earth in mood forlorn ; 
 Cruelty wades in blood, with fell delight, 
 And fierce Despair the fatal noose makes tight. 
 
 Demurely silent Fraud, forced Merriment, 
 Sly Signals, couriers from the heart that fly ; 
 
 The Glances, gazing with fond looks intent, 
 Spreading their nets to snare the unwary try; 
 
 Weeping, her brow upon her palm low bent, 
 Stands with her company of Sorrows nigh ; 
 
 And here and there bounds reckless in her glee, 
 
 License, from every rule and measure free. 
 
 Such is the army which thy children lead, 
 All-beauteous Venus, mother of the Loves ! 
 
 Zephyr in softest dew bathes all the mead, 
 Shedding a thousand perfumes as he moves ; 
 
 Lily and rose and violet succeed 
 
 His kisses, blossoming where'er he roves ; 
 
 The field its rich attire with wonder views, 
 
 Its white, cerulean, and vermilion hues. 
 
 The virgin bud looks down with modest dread, 
 Her infant beauty trembling to disclose ; 
 
 Her bosom to the solar blaze to spread, 
 
 Brilliant and laughing seeks the full-blown rose ; 
 
 In emerald gems this hides her timid head ; 
 This at the lattice her fair promise shows ; 
 
 This languid in the overpowering ardour faints, 
 
 And with rich tints the beauteous herbage paints. 
 
160 THE GARDEN OP VENUS. 
 
 Dawn rears fresh violets still, with tender care, 
 Of white, of yellow, and of purple dies ; 
 
 Sad Hyacinthus shows his legend there ; 
 Narcissus in the lymph his image spies ; 
 
 In vestal robe, with purple border fair, 
 Pale Clytic to the sun still turns her eyes ; 
 
 Adonis of his woes the tale resumes ; 
 
 Crocus his three tongues shows ; Acanthus joyous blooms. 
 
 Such glories new the opening Spring hath shed 
 On earth's glad bosom since the world arose ; 
 
 Above the green hills lifts its lofty head, 
 
 And tangled locks against the sun that close ; 
 
 Shading beneath its warm boughs overspread 
 A living fount that ever freshly flows ; 
 
 With its cool wave, so tranquil and so clear, 
 
 That aye distinct its liquid depths appear. 
 
YAMOYDEN, 
 
 A TALE 
 OF THE WARS OF KING PHILIP. 
 
 IN SIX CANTOS. 
 
 " All kinds, all creatures stand or fall 
 By strength of prowess or of wit : 
 'Tis God's appointment, who shall sway, 
 And who is to submit. 
 Say then that he was wise as brave, 
 As wise in thought as bold in deed ; 
 For in the principles of things 
 He sought his moral creed. 
 And thou, altho' with some wild thoughts, 
 Wild chieftain of a savage clan ! 
 Hadst this to boast, that thou didst love 
 The liberty of man." WORDSWORTH. 
 
 
 VOL. I. X 
 
[THE following advertisement, prefixed to the original edition 
 of Yamoyden by Mr. Sands, explains the history of the poem, 
 and indicates, in part, the several shares of the respective 
 authors. The Proem is, of course, wholly from the pen of Mr. 
 Sands. The original edition of this poem was inscribed to the 
 Rev. Dr. Jarvis, then of Boston, in consequence (as expressed in 
 the dedication) of its " owing its publication in a great measure 
 to the favourable impression expressed by him of its merits."} 
 
ADVERTISEMENT. 
 
 BEFORE submitting this poem to the judgment of the 
 public, it is necessary that the editor should give a brief 
 account of the manner in which it was composed. He 
 hopes that this will prove, to the candid and intelligent, a 
 sufficient apology for the defects with which he is well 
 aware this juvenile production abounds. 
 
 It was written in separate portions, by the late Rev. 
 James Wallis Eastburn, and himself, during the winter of 
 1817-18, and the following spring. Mr. Eastburn, in 
 1816, went to Bristol, Rhode-Island, to pursue the study of 
 divinity under the direction of the Rt. Rev. A. V. Griswold, 
 Bishop of the Eastern diocess. He was constantly in the 
 habit of amusing his hours of relaxation with poetical com 
 position ; and the local traditions connected with the 
 scenery, in his immediate vicinity, suggested to him a fit 
 subject for his favourite employment. He often mentioned 
 in the course of his correspondence with .the editor, his in 
 tention of making some of the adventures of King Philip, 
 the well known Sachem of Pokanoket, the theme of a poet 
 ical romance. In the year following, when he visited New- 
 York, the plan of the proposed story was drawn up in con 
 junction. We had then read nothing on the subject ; and 
 our plot was formed from a hasty glance into a few pages 
 of Hubbard's Narrative. To quote a simile from that 
 crude historian, we began, like bad heralds, to meddle with 
 the charge before we had blazoned the field ; and, though 
 
164 ADVERTISEMENT. 
 
 the action of our fable only occupied the space of forty -eight 
 hours, we were led into several inconsistencies, in the gen 
 eral outline first proposed ; from which no departure was 
 afterward made. After Mr. Eastburn's return to Bristol, the 
 poem was written, according to the parts severally assigned ; 
 and transmitted, reciprocally, in the course of correspond 
 ence. It was commenced in November, 1817, and finished 
 before the summer of 1818 ; except the concluding stanzas 
 of the sixth canto, which were added after Mr. Eastburn 
 left Bristol. As the fable was defective, from our ignor 
 ance of the subject, the execution was also, from the same 
 cause, and the hasty mode of composition, in every respect 
 imperfect. Mr. Eastburn was then preparing to take 
 orders ; and his studies, with that view, engrossed his atten 
 tion. He was ordained in October, 1818. Between that 
 time and the period of his going to Accomack county, in 
 Virginia, whence he had received an invitation to take 
 charge of a congregation, he transcribed the first two cantos 
 of this poem, with but few material variations, from the first 
 collating copy. The labours of his ministry left him no 
 time, even for his most delightful amusement. He had 
 made no further progress in the correction of the work, 
 when he returned to this city, in July, 1819. His health 
 was then so much impaired, that writing of any kind was 
 too great a labour. He had packed up the manuscripts, in 
 tending to finish his second copy in Santa Cruz, whither it 
 was recommended to him to go, as the last resource, to re 
 cruit his exhausted constitution. He died on the fourth day 
 of his passage, December 2d, 1819. 
 
 He left among his papers a great quantity of poetry, of 
 which his part of " Yam oy den" forms but a small propor^ 
 tion. His friends may think proper, at some future period, 
 to make selections from his miscellaneous remains, and ar 
 range them for publication. It was their wish, however, 
 that this poem might be first published, and they were 
 determined in that wish by the approbation of a gentleman 
 
ADVERTISEMENT. 165 
 
 whose talents and learning are universally respected in this 
 community. The editor was therefore induced to comply 
 with their request, and undertake the correction of the manu 
 script. His labour, in so doing, has not been trifling. He 
 had no right to make any alterations in the original plot ; or to 
 destroy his deceased friend's poetical identity. He has endea 
 voured to remove as many errors, in point of matter or ex 
 pression, as was consistent with these necessary restraints. 
 From looking over several books, whose subjects were con* 
 nected with that of the poem, he has been led to make 
 some additions to the original matter. The principal of 
 these, in point of bulk, are, the verses in the commence 
 ment, relating to the previous history of the Indian wars ; 
 the Sermon introduced in the third canto ; the Ode to the 
 Manitto of Dreams, in the fourth ; and the introduction of 
 the Mohegan, in the fifth and sixth. The last alteration 
 was always contemplated by Mr. Eastburn, who had made 
 the heroine perform the journey alone. The editor mentions 
 these portions as his own, because they were hastily added 
 in the course of transcription, and printed as soon as writ 
 ten ; and if they are defective, the discredit should attach to 
 himself alone. The particular property in the rest of the 
 poem, belonging to each author, it would be endless to par 
 ticularize. Notice is taken in the notes of many errors, the 
 principal of which is the subject of the fourth canto. The 
 few notes marked E., were found among Mr. Eastburn's 
 papers. The rest have been added by the editor. 
 
 Plura, quidem, mandate tibi, si quaris habebam ; 
 
 Sed vereor tardse causa fuisse morse. 
 Quod si, quse subeunt, tecum, liber, omnia ferres, 
 
 Sarcina laturo magna futurus eras. 
 
 The poem, in the main, is still to be considered as having 
 been written three years ago ; when the age of Mr. East- 
 burn was twenty, and that of the editor eighteen years. 
 The latter had scarce attempted versification, of any kind, 
 
1(56 ADVERTISEMENT. 
 
 from the time when the draught of " Yamoyden" was fin 
 ished : and nothing but the circumstances he has stated, 
 could have induced him to resume the practice, or appear 
 as the author of a poem. As to his individual reputation, on 
 that score, he believes, he is sincerely and perfectly indiffer 
 ent : but it would be folly to deny, that he could not, with 
 out pain, see this joint production, now consecrated in his 
 memory i>y the death of his friend, meet with unfair criti 
 cism or sullen neglect. 
 November 20th, 1820. 
 
PROEM. 
 
 Go FORTH, sad fragments of a broken strain, 
 The last that either bard shall e'er essay ! 
 The hand can ne'er, attempt the chords again, 
 That first awoke them, in a happier day : 
 Where sweeps the ocean breeze its desert way, 
 His requiem murmurs o'er the moaning wave ; 
 And he who feebly now prolongs the lay, 
 Shall ne'er the minstrel's hallowed honours crave ; 
 His harp lies buried deep, in that untimely grave ! 
 
 Friend of my youth, with thee began the love 
 Of sacred song ; the wont, in golden dreams, 
 Mid classic realms of splendours past to rove, 
 O'er haunted steep, and by immortal streams ; 
 Where the blue wave, with sparkling bosom gleams 
 Round shores, the mind's eternal heritage, 
 For ever lit by memory's twilight beams ; 
 Where the proud dead, that live in storied page, 
 Beckon, with awful port, to glory's earlier age. 
 
 There would we linger oft, entranc'd, to hear, 
 O'er battle fields, the epic thunders roll ; 
 Or list, where tragic wail upon the ear, 
 Through Argive palaces shrill echoing, stole ; 
 There would we mark, uncurbed by all control, 
 In central heaven, the Theban eagle's flight ; 
 Or hold communion with the musing soul 
 Of sage or bard, who sought, mid pagan night, 
 In lov'd Athenian groves, for truth's eternal light. 
 
1 G8 PROEM. 
 
 Homeward we turned, to that fair land, but late 
 Redeemed from the strong spell that bound it fast, 
 Where mystery, brooding o'er the waters, sate 
 And kept the key, till three millenniums past ; 
 When, as creation's noblest work was last, 
 Latest, to man it was vouchsafed, to see 
 Nature's great wonder, long by clouds o'ercast, 
 And veiled in sacred awe, that it might be 
 An empire and a home, most worthy for the free. 
 
 And here, forerunners strange and meet were found,' 
 Of that bless'd freedom, only dreamed before ; 
 Dark were the morning mists, that lingered round 
 Their birth and story, as the hue they bore. 
 " Earth was their mother ;" or they knew no more, 
 Or would not that their secret should be told ; 
 For they were grave and silent ; and such lore, 
 To stranger ears, they loved not to unfold, 
 The long-transmitted tales their sires were taught of old. 
 
 Kind nature's commoners, from her they drew 
 Their needful wants, and learn'd not how to hoard ; 
 And him whom strength and wisdom crowned, they knew, 
 But with no servile reverence, as their lord. 
 And on their mountain summits they adored 
 One great, good Spirit, in his high abode, 
 And thence their incense and orisons poured 
 To his pervading presence, that abroad 
 They felt through all his works, their Father, King, and 
 God. 
 
 And in the mountain mist, the torrent's spray; 
 The quivering furest, or the glassy flood, 
 Soft falling showers, or hues of orient day, 
 They imaged spirits beautiful and good ; 
 
JPROEM. 169 
 
 But when the tempest roared, with voices rude, 
 Or fierce, red lightning fired the forest pine, 
 Or withering heats untimely seared the wood, 
 The angry forms they saw of powers malign ; 
 These they besought to spare, those blest for aid divine* 
 
 As the fresh sense of life, through every vein, 
 With the pure air they drank, inspiring came, 
 Comely they grew, patient of toil and pain, 
 And as the fleet deer's agile was their frame ; 
 Of meaner vices scarce they knew the name ; 
 These simple truths went down from sire to son, 
 To reverence age, the sluggish hunter's shame, 
 And craven warrior's infamy to shun, 
 And still avenge each wrong, to friends or kindred done. 
 
 From forest shades they peered, with awful dread, 
 When, uttering flame and thunder from its side, 
 The ocean-monster, with broad wings outspread, 
 Came ploughing gallantly the virgin tide. 
 Few years have pass'd, and all their forests' pride 
 From shores and hills has vanished, with the race, 
 Their tenants erst, from memory who have died, 
 Like airy shapes, which eld was wont to trace, 
 In each green thicket's depths, and lone, sequestered 
 place. 
 
 And many a gloomy tale, tradition yet 
 Saves from oblivion, of their struggles vain, 
 Their prowess and their wrongs, for rhymer meet, 
 To people scenes, where still their names remain ; 
 And so began our young, delighted strain, 
 That would evoke the plumed chieftains brave, 
 And bid their martial hosts arise again, 
 Where Narraganset's tides roll by their grave, 
 And Haup's romantic steeps are piled above the wave. 
 
 VOI*. I. Y 
 
1 70 PROEM. 
 
 Friend of my youth ! with thee began my song. 
 And o'er thy bier its latest accents die ; 
 Misled in phantom-peopled realms too long, 
 Though not to me the muse averse deny, 
 Sometimes, perhaps, her visions to descry, 
 Such thriftless pastime should with youth be o'er ; 
 And he who loved with thee his notes to try, 
 But for thy sake, such idlesse would deplore, 
 And swears to meditate the thankless muse no more* 
 
 But, no ! the freshness of the past shall still 
 Sacred to memory's holiest musings be ; 
 When through the ideal fields of song, at will, 
 He roved and gathered chaplets wild with thee ; 
 When, reckless -of the world, alone and free, 
 Like two proud barks, we kept our careless way, 
 That sail by moonlight o'er the tranquil sea ; 
 Their white apparel and their streamers gay, 
 Bright gleaming o'er the main, beneath the ghostly ray 
 
 And downward, far, reflected in the clear 
 Blue depths, the eye their fairy tackling sees - r 
 So buoyant, they do seem to float in air, 
 And silently obey the noiseless breeze ; 
 Till, all too soon, as the rude winds may please, 
 They part for distant ports : the gales benign 
 Swift wafting, bore, by Heaven's all-wise decrees, 
 To its own harbour sure, where each divine 
 And joyous vision, seen before in dreams, is thine. 
 
 Muses of Helicon ! melodious race 
 Of Jove and golden-haired Mnemosyne ; 
 Whose art from memory blots each sadder trace. 
 And drives each scowling form of grief away ! 
 
PROEM. 171 
 
 Who, round the violet fount, your measures gay 
 Once trod, and round the altar of great Jove ; 
 Whence, wrapt in silvery clouds, your nightly way 
 Ye held, and ravishing strains of music wove, 
 That soothed the Thunderer's soul, and filled his courts 
 above. 
 
 Bright choir ! with lips untempted, and with zone 
 Sparkling, and unapproached by touch profane ; 
 Ye, to whose gladsome bosoms ne'er was known 
 The blight of sorrow, or the throb of pain ; 
 Rightly invoked, if right the elected swain, 
 On your own mountain's side ye taught of yore, 
 Whose honoured hand took not your gift in vain, 
 Worthy the budding laurel-bough it bore, * 
 Farewell ! a long farewell ! I worship you no more, 
 
 * Hesiod. Theog. 1. 1. 60. 30. 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 Stat vetus et multos inccedua sylva per annos. 
 Credibile est illi numen inesse loco. 
 
 HARK to that shriek upon the summer blast ! 
 Wildly it swells the fitful gusts between, 
 And as its dying echoes faint have pass'd, 
 Sad moans the night-wind o'er the troubled scene. 
 Sunk is the day, obscured the valleys green ; 
 Nor moon nor stars are glimmering in the sky, 
 Thick veiled behind their tempest-gathered screen ; 
 Lost in deep shades the hills and waters lie ; 
 Whence rose that boding scream, that agonizing cry ? 
 
 Spirit of Eld ! who, on thy moss-clad throne, 
 Record'st the actions of the mighty dead ; 
 By whom the secrets of the past are known, 
 And all oblivion's spell-bound volume read ; 
 Sleep wo and crime beneath thine awful tread ? 
 Or is it but idle fancy's mockery vain, 
 Who loves the mists of wonder round to spread ? 
 No ! 'tis a sound of sadder, sterner strain, 
 Spirit of by-gone years, that haunts thine ancient reign ! 
 
174 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 'Tis the death wail of a departed race, 
 Long vanished hence, unhonoured in their grave ; 
 Their story lost to memory, like the trace 
 That to the greensward erst their sandals gave ; 
 Wail for the feather-cinctured warriors brave, 
 Who, battling for their fathers' empire well, 
 Perished, when valour could no longer save 
 From soulless bigotry, and avarice fell, 
 That tracked them to the death, with mad, infuriate yell. 
 
 Spirit of Eld ! inspire one generous verse, 
 The unpractised minstrel's tributary song ; 
 Mid these thine ancient groves he would rehearse 
 The closing story of their sachem's wrong. 
 On that rude column, shrined thy wrecks among, 
 Tradition ! names there are, which time hath worn, 
 Nor yet effaced ; proud names to which belong 
 A dismal tale of foul oppressions borne, 
 Which man can ne'er recall, but which the muse may 
 mourn. 
 
YAM Y DEN. 
 
 CANTO FIRST. 
 
 I. 
 
 THE morning air was freshly breathing, 
 
 The morning mists were wildly wreathing ; 
 
 Day's earliest beams were kindling o'er 
 
 The wood-crowned hills and murmuring shore. 
 
 'Twas summer ; and the forests threw 
 
 Their checkered shapes of varying hue, 
 
 In mingling, changeful shadows seen, 
 
 O'er hill and bank, and headland green. 
 
 Blithe birds were carolling on high 
 
 Their matin music to the sky, 
 
 As glanced their brilliant hues along, 
 
 Filling the groves with life and song ; 
 
 All innocent and wild and free 
 
 Their sweet, ethereal minstrelsy. 
 
 The dew-drop sparkled on the spray, 
 
 Danced on the wave the inconstant ray ; 
 
 And moody grief, with dark control, 
 
 There only swayed the human soul ! 
 
 II. 
 
 With equal swell, above the flood, 
 The forest-cinctured mountain stood ; 
 Its eastward cliffs, a rampart wild, 
 Rock above rock sublimely piled. 
 
176 YAMOYDEN. 
 
 What scenes of beauty met bis eye, 
 The watchful sentinel on high ! 
 With all its isles and inlets Jay 
 Beneath the calm, majestic bay ; 
 Like molten gold, all glittering spread, 
 Where the clear sun his influence shed ; 
 In wreathy, crisped brilliance borne, 
 While laughed the radiance of the morn. 
 Round rocks, that from the headlands far 
 Their barriers reared, with murmuring war, 
 The chafing stream, in eddying play, 
 Fretted and dashed its foamy spray ; 
 Along the shelving sands its swe.l 
 With hushed and equal cadence fell ; 
 And here, beneath the whispering grove, 
 Ran rippling in the shadowy cove. 
 Thy thickets with their liveliest hue, 
 Aquetnet green' '! were fair to view ; 
 Far curved the winding shore, where rose 
 Pocasset's hills in calm repose ; 
 Or where descending rivers gave 
 Their tribute to the ampler wave. 
 Emerging frequent from the tide, 
 Scarce noticed mid its waters wide, 
 Lay flushed with morning's roseate smile, 
 The gay bank of some little isle ; 
 Where the lone heron plumed his wing, 
 Or spread it as in act to spring, 
 Yet paused, as if delight it gave 
 To bend above the glorious wave. 
 
 III. 
 
 Where northward spread the unbounded scene, 
 Oft, in the valley's bosom green, 
 The hamlets' mouldering ruins showed, 
 Where war with daemon brand had strode. 
 
YAMOYDEN. 177 
 
 By prostrate hedge and fence overthrown, 
 
 And fields by blackening hillocks known, 
 
 And leafless tree, and scattered stone, 
 
 The midnight murderer's work was shown. 
 
 Oft melting in the distant view 
 
 The cot sent up its incense blue, 
 
 As yet unwrapp'd by hostile fire ; 
 
 And, mid its trees, some rustic spire, 
 
 A peaceful signal, told that there 
 
 Was sought the God of peace in prayer. 
 
 The WAMPANOAG from the height 
 
 Of Haup, who strained his anxious sight, 
 
 To mark if foes their covert trace, 
 
 Beheld, and curs'd the Christian race ! 
 
 
 
 IV. 
 
 Now two-score years of peace had pass'd 
 Since in the west the battle yell 
 Was borne on every echoing blast, 
 Until the Pequots' empire fell ; 
 And SASSACOXJS, now- no more, 
 Lord of a thousand bowmen, fled ; 
 And all the chiefs, his boast before, 
 Were mingled with the unhonoured dead. 
 Sannap and Sagamore were slain, 
 On Mystic's banks, in one red night ; 
 The once far-dreaded king in vain 
 Sought safety in inglorious flighty ~ 
 And reft of all his regal pride, 
 By the fierce Maqua's hand he died. 
 Long o'er the land, with cloudless hue, 
 Had peace outspread her skies of blue ; 
 The blood-stained axe was buried long ; 
 Till METACOM his war-dance held, 
 And round the flaming pyre the song 
 Of vengeance and of death was yelled. 
 
 VOL. I.- 
 
178 
 
 The steeps of Ha up reverbed afar 
 The WampanocLrs' shout for war ; 
 Fiercely they trim their crested hair, 
 The sanguine battle stains prepare, 
 And martial gear, while over all 
 Proud waves the feathery coronal. 
 Their peag belts are girt for fight, 
 Their loaded pouches slung aright, 
 The musket's tube is bright and true, 
 The tomahawk's edge is sharped anew, 
 And counsels stern and flas ,ing eyes, 
 Betoken dangerous enterprise. 
 
 V. 
 
 The red fire is blazing ; ring compassing ring, 
 They whirled in the war-dance, and circuiting sing ; 
 And the chieftans, in turn to the pile as they go, 
 In each brand saw a warrior, each gleed was a foe ; 
 Revenge on the whites and their allies they swear, 
 Mohegans, Niantics, and Pequots they dare, 
 
 And sla in he dream of their ire ; 
 The hills of Pocasset replied to their call, 
 And their QUEEN sejt her chiefs and her warriors all, 
 
 To the rites of the lurid fire. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Thro' Narraganset's countless clan 
 The secret wildfire circling ran ; 
 In northern wilds, the gathering word 
 The tributary Nipnets heard. 
 Busy and quick, to their errand true, 
 The messengers of mischief flew, 
 Noiseless as speeds the painted dart, 
 In the thicket's shade, to the quarry's heart, 
 That scares not in its passage fleet 
 The woodland hosts from their green retreat. 
 
YAMOYDEN. 179 
 
 VII. 
 
 But SAUSAMAN untimely slain, 
 Kindled too soon the fatal train. 
 From where with mild, majestic pride, 
 Their peaceful, and abounding tide 
 Quunihticut's broad waters pour 
 Even to the ocean's sounding shore 
 Began one universal strife, 
 One murderous hunt for human life. 
 The wexing moon oft waned anew, 
 Ere grass upon the war-path grew : 
 On every gale the war-whoop rung ; 
 From every grove the ambush sprung; 
 The hamlet's blaze, the midnight yell, 
 Ceased not the desperate strife to tell, 
 Till o'er the land, with blood defiled, 
 Went forth a voice of wailing wild ; 
 A voice of mourning and of pain, 
 Their youngest and their bravest slain. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Full high the savage pride was raised, 
 Till Narraganset's fortress blazed. 
 When bleak December sheeted o'er 
 The wilderness with mantle hoar, 
 Reckless within their hold assailed, 
 They saw the avenging army pour, 
 Beheld their boasted bulwarks scaled. 
 The white men made their entrance good, 
 All slippery with their comrades' blood ; 
 A thousand wigwams kindling sent 
 Their glare along the firmament ; 
 The sun declining from his noon, 
 Faded, a dim, wan circle soon ; 
 The heavens, around that lurid light 
 Frowned like the realms of central night ; 
 
180 YAMOYDEN. 
 
 Far, far around, the gleening snow 
 
 Was ruddy with the unnatural glow ; 
 
 Where the dun column wreathing rolled, 
 
 Red flowed the river's tides below. 
 
 Amid the slaughtered, in their hold, 
 
 Stifling, in vain their warriors bold 
 
 Each blazing sconce in fury sought, 
 
 Poured on the foe their deadly shot, 
 
 Or in mad leaps of torture broke 
 
 Thro' sulphurous fire and volumed smoke ; 
 
 While uproar, flame, and deafening yell 
 
 Made the scene seem the vault of hell, 
 
 Where, writhing wild in penance dire, 
 
 Fiends danced mid pyramids of fire ! 
 
 Nor ceased the musket roar, the shout, 
 
 The obstreperous clamours of the rout, 
 
 Till gathering night with shades profound 
 
 Of gloom and horror closed around. 
 
 Tracked by their blood along the snow, 
 
 Returned the victors, sad and slow ; 
 
 But, where the smoking ruins show 
 
 The prostrate citadel one heap 
 
 Of smouldering ashes, broad and deep, 
 
 Where friend or husband none may trace, 
 
 The pride of Narraganset's race, 
 
 The grisly trophy of the fray, 
 
 A holocaust for freedom lay ! 
 
 IX. 
 
 Stabbed in the heart of all their power, 
 The voice of triumph from that hour 
 Rose faintly, mid the heathen host, 
 Sunk was their pride, and quelled their boast. 
 Broken and scattering wide and far, 
 Feebly they yet maintained the war. 
 
YAMOYDEN. 181 
 
 Spring came ; on blood alone intent, 
 Men o'er her flowers regardless went ; 
 Thro' cedar grove and thicket green, 
 The serried steel was glistening sheen ; 
 Earth lay untilled ; the deadly chase 
 Ceased not of that devoted race, 
 Till of the tribes whose rage at first 
 In one o'erwhelming deluge burst, 
 No trace the inquiring eye could find, 
 Save in the ruins left behind. 
 Like wintry torrent they had poured, 
 O'er mounds and rocks it raved and roared, 
 Dashed in blind fury where it broke, 
 In showery spray and wavy smoke ; 
 And now, sad vestige of its wrath, 
 Alone was left its wasted path. 
 
 X. 
 
 Stark thro' the dismal fens they lie, 
 
 Or on the felon gibbet high 
 
 Their mangled members hung proclaim 
 
 Their constancy their conquerors' shame. 
 
 Ah ! happier they, who in the strife 
 
 For freedom fell, than o'er the main, 
 
 Those who in slavery's galling chain 
 
 Still bore the load of hated life, 
 
 Bowed to base tasks their generous pride, 
 
 And scourged and broken-hearted died ! 
 
 The remnant of the conquered band, 
 
 Submissive, at the victor's hand, 
 
 As for a boon of mercy, crave 
 
 A shred of all their father's land, 
 
 A transient shelter and a grave. 
 
 Or far where boundless lakes expand, 
 
 With weary feet the exiles roam, 
 
 Until their tawny brethren gave 
 
 The persecuted race a home. 
 
182 YAMOYDEN. 
 
 XI. 
 
 But METACOM, the cause of all, 
 Last of his host, was doomed to fall. 
 Unconquered yet, when at his side 
 His boldest and his wisest died ; 
 When all whom kin or friendship made 
 To his fallen fortunes dear were dead ; 
 Beggared in wealth and power ; pursued 
 A sentenced wretch, thro' swamp and wood ;- 
 Yet he escaped tho' he might hear 
 The hunters' uproar round him wake, 
 And bullets whispered death was near ; 
 O'er bank and stream, thro' grove and brake 
 He led them, fleet as mountain deer, 
 Nor yet his limbs had learned to quake, 
 Nor his heart caught the taint of fear. 
 
 XII. 
 
 His covert to his foes unknown, 
 With such worn train as war had spared, 
 Once more to Haup the chief repaired, 
 Of all his line the home and throne. 
 There, where the spirits of the dead 
 Seemed flitting through each moonlight glade,- 
 Where pageant hosts of glory fled 
 In mockery rose with vain parade, 
 In gloomy grandeur o'er his head, 
 Where forests cast congenial shade, 
 Brooding mid scenes of perished state, 
 He mused to madness on his fate. 
 South from the tarled swamp that spread 
 Below the mount, an upland rose ; 
 Where towering elms all gray with eld, 
 And birchen thickets close concealed 
 The hunted race from quest of foes. 
 
YAMOYDEN. 
 
 Beneath, their screen the elders threw, 
 
 And fern and bramble rankly grew ; 
 
 By simple nature wisely taught 
 
 Such covert still the savage sought : 
 
 So in her leafy form the hare 
 
 Sits couched and still, when down the gale, 
 
 Of hounds and horns the mingling blare 
 
 She hears in tones of terror swell* 
 
 So spreads, beneath the liquid surge, 
 
 To shun the approaching monster's gorge, 
 
 The wary fish its inky blood, 
 
 And dies with rayless hue the flood. 
 
 XfIL 
 
 Beside the mountain's rugged steeps, 
 The SACHEM now his council keeps ; 
 Though straitened in that hopeless stound, 
 Begirt with fear and famine round, 
 Resolved himself on daring deed, 
 He listened reckless of their rede. 
 Once more within their ancient hold, 
 How dwindled from their pomp of old ! 
 Toil worn and few and doubtful met 
 The PANIESE in their council state. 
 High rose the cliffs ; but proud above 
 The regal oaks their branches fling, 
 Arching aloft with verdant cove, 
 Where thick their leaves they interwove, 
 Fit canopy for woodland king. 
 Vines, with tenacious fibres, high 
 Clomb o'er those rocks luxuriantly ; 
 Oft o'er their rugged masses gray, 
 With rustling breeze the wild flowers play ; 
 While at the base their purple hues, 
 Impearled with morning's glittering dews, 
 Bloomed round the pile of rifted stone, 
 Which, as in semblance of a throne, 
 
 183 
 
184 YAMOYDEN. 
 
 The hand of Nature there had placed ; 
 And rambling wild, where lower still 
 Bubbled and welled a sparkling rill, 
 These simple flowers its margin graced. 
 Clear as the brightest steel to view, 
 Thro' mossy turf of greenest hue, 
 Its lymph that gushing fountain spread : 
 And still though ages since have sped, 
 
 That little spring is seen ; 
 It bears his name whose deeds of dread 
 
 Disturbed its margin green ; 
 As pure, as full, its waters rise, 
 While those who once its peace profaned, 
 Have pass'd, and to the stranger's eyes 
 Nor trace, nor memory hath remained. 
 Smooth lay the turf before the seat, 
 Sprinkled with flow'rets fair and sweet ; 
 The violet and the daisy gay, 
 And goldcups bright like spangles lay. 
 Thick round the glade the forest grew, 
 Whose quivering leaves and pillars through, 
 The eye might catch the sparkling ray, 
 Where sea-gulls wheeled in mazy play. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 There met the council, round the throne, 
 Where he, in power, in thought alone, 
 Not like the sentenced outlaw sate, 
 The abandoned child of wayward fate, 
 But as of those tall cliffs a part, 
 Cut by some bolder sculptor's art, 
 The imaged God, erect and proud, 
 To whom the simple savage bowed. 
 His was the strength the weak that sways ; 
 The glance the servile herd obeys ; 
 
YAMOYDEH. 185 
 
 The brow of majesty, where thought 
 And care their deepest lines had wrought, 
 And told, like furrows broad that mark 
 The giant ash-tree's fretted bark, 
 How stormy years, with forceful sway^ 
 Will wear youth's scarless gloss away. 
 Shorn were -his locks, whose ample flow 
 Had else revealed him to the foe ; 
 And travel-stained the beaver spoils, 
 That sheathed his martial limbs below k 
 But seemed it that he yet would show, 
 Even mid the hunter's closing toils, 
 Some splendours of his former state, 
 When in his royalties he sate. 
 For round his brow with symbols meet, 
 In wampum wrought with various die, 
 Entwined a studded coronet, 
 With circling plumage waving high. 
 Above his stalworth shoulders set 
 A feathery-woven mantle lay, 
 Where many-tinctured, pinions gay 
 Sprinkled the raven's plumes of jet. 
 Collar beneath and gorget shone, 
 The peag armlets and the zone, 
 That round with fretted shell-work graced, 
 Clipped with broad ring his shapely waist* 
 And all war's dread caparison, 
 Horn, pouch, and tomahawk were slung ; 
 And wide, and far descending hung, 
 Quaintly embossed with bird and flower, 
 The belt that marked-the SACHEM'S power. 
 
 XV. 
 
 Know ye the Indian warrior race ? 
 
 How their light form springs in strength and grace. 
 
 VOL. I. A A 
 
 
186 YAMOYDEN. 
 
 Like the pine on their native mountain side, 
 That will not bow in its deathless pride ; 
 Whose rugged limbs of stubborn stone 
 No flexuous power of art will own, 
 But bend to heaven's red bolt alone ! 
 How their hue is deep as the western die 
 That fades in Autumn's evening sky ; 
 That lives for ever upon their brow, 
 In the summer's heat, and the winter's snow \ 
 How their raven locks of tameless strain, 
 Stream like the desert courser's mane : 
 How their glance is far as the eagle's flight, 
 And fierce and true as the panther's sight : 
 How their souls are like the crystal wave, 
 Where the spirit dwells in his northern cave 
 Unruffled in its caverned bed, 
 Calm lies its glimmering surface spread ; 
 Its springs, its outlet unconfess'd, 
 The pebble's weight upon its breast , 
 Shall wake its echoing thunders deep, vij .".' 
 And when their muttering accents sleep, 
 Its dark recesses hear "them yet, 
 And tell of deathless love or hate ! 
 
 XVI. 
 
 The council met ; each bosom- there 
 Pregnant with doubt or with despair \ 
 And each wan eye and hollow cheek 
 The waste of toil and famine speak ; 
 Yet o'er the dew-webbed turf reclined, 
 Silent they sate ; and stranger's eye 
 Had deemed, in idle mood resigned 
 To nature's sweet tranquillity, 
 They lay to catch the mingling sound 
 Of woods and waters murmuring round; 
 
YAMOYDEN. 187 
 
 That the robin carolling blithe they heard, 
 Or the breeze the shivering leaves that stirred. 
 Among their eagle plumes it played, 
 And with their cinctures dalliance made ; 
 But customed were they to control 
 The cradled whirlwinds of the soul ; 
 And calm was every warrior's mien, 
 As if there a feast of love had been. 
 
 XVIL 
 
 111 could the fiery SACHEM brook 
 That gloomy, never- changing look. 
 Though long inured to mazy wile, 
 Through all the thousand lakes of guile, 
 His secret skiff had held its course, 
 And shunned each torrent's eddying force, 
 Yet ever would the fiery soul 
 
 Through all the circles dart, 
 Which, like the ice around the pole, 
 
 Begirt the Indian heart. 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 Up started METACOM ; the train 
 Of all his wrongs, his perished power, 
 His blasted hopes, his kindred slain, 
 His quenchless hate which blazed in vain, 
 So fierce in its triumphant hour, 
 But now to his own heart again 
 Withdrawn,^ but ran like liquid flame 
 Boiling through all his fevered frame, 
 All, all seemed rushing on his brain : 
 Each trembling fibre told the strife, 
 Which quelled that storm with madness rife, 
 Gathering in horrors o'er his brow, 
 And flashing wildly bright below. 
 While o'er his followers faint and few, 
 On inquest stern his glances flew, 
 
188 YAMOYDEN. 
 
 Across his quivering lips in haste 
 
 A smile of bitterness there pass'd ; f 
 
 As if a beam from the lamp had stole 
 
 That burnt within his inmost soul, 
 
 As in a deep, sepulchral cell y 
 
 It seemed with transient curl to tell, 
 
 How in his triumph or his fall, 
 
 He doubted, and he scorned them all ! 
 
 But silence straight the SACHEM broke, 
 
 And thus his taunt abrupt he spoke ? 
 
 XIX, 
 
 " Still do we live 1 to yonder skies 
 Yet does our warm breath buoyant rise, . 
 To that Great Spirit, who ne'er inhales 
 Incense from all the odorous gales, 
 In the world of warrior souls, more blest, 
 Than that respired from the freeman's breast ! 
 Yet do we live? or struck by fear, 
 As the wretch by subtle sorcerer near, 
 Palsied and pining, must we lie 
 In yon dark fen, and dimly spy 
 Our fathers' hills, our native sky i-r-. 
 Like the coward ghosts, whom the bark of stone 
 Leaves in the eternal wave to rnoan, 
 And wail for ever, as they descry 
 The blissful isle they can come not nigh ; 
 Where the souls of the brave from toil released, 
 Prolong the chase, the dance, the feast, 
 And fill the sparkling chalice high, 
 From the springs of immortality ! 
 Say, has oblivion kindly come, 
 To veil remembrance in its gloom ? 
 Have ye forgot, that whilome here, 
 Your fathers drove the bounding deer ; 
 When now, so works the Evil One, 
 Like heartless deer their children run ;^r- 
 

 YAMOYDEN. 
 
 Or trembling in their darksome lair, 
 While fear's cold dews gush full and fast, 
 One venturous glance no longer dare 
 Round on their native forests cast. 
 The hunters came, the charm they brought ; 
 The tempting lure the senseless sought, 
 And tamely to the spoiler gave 
 The ancient birthright of the brave ! 
 
 XX. 
 
 " Oblivion ? O I the films of age 
 Shall shroud yon sun's resplendent eye. 
 And waning in his pilgrimage, 
 His latest beam in heaven shall die, 
 Ere on the soil from whence we fled, 
 The story of our wrongs be dead ! 
 Could the tall trunk of peace once more 
 Lift its broad foliage on our shore ; 
 And on the beaver robe outspread 
 Our remnant rest beneath its shade j- 
 From stainless bowls and incense high 
 Amid the blue* and cloudless sky ; 
 Mark round us waves unrimpled flow, 
 And o'er green paths no bramble grow ; 
 Say where in earth profoundly deep, 
 Should all our wrongs in darkness sleep ? 
 What art the sod shall o'er them heap ; ' 
 And rear the tree whose verdant tower 
 Aloft shall build, beneath embower, 
 Till men shall pass and shall not know 
 The secrets foul that rest below ? 
 The memory ne'er can die, of all 
 For blood, for vengeance that can call, 
 While feels a red man in his breast 
 The might, the soul his sires possess'd, 
 Toil, death, and danger can defy, 
 Look up to heaven, and proudly cry, 
 
190 YAMOYDEN. 
 
 Eternal and Almighty ONE, 
 Father of all ! I am thy son ! 
 
 XXI. 
 
 " Poor, crouching children of the brave ! 
 Lo ! where the broad and sparkling wave 
 Anointed once the freeman's shore, 
 Your father's tents arise no more. 
 There lie your masters in their pride ; 
 And not so thick, o'er torpid tide, 
 The blessed light that beams on earth 
 Warms the coiled vipers into birth, 
 And not so loathsome do they spread 
 Their slime along its sedgy bed, 
 As glittering on my aching eyes, 
 The white man's homes accursed rise ! 
 I rave ; and ye are cold and tame ; 
 Forget ye MASSASOIET'S shame ? 
 Forget ye him, who, snared and caught, 
 Soared on the chainless wings of thought, 
 A lowly captive might not be, 
 For his heart broke, and he was free ! 
 Last, poorest of a mighty race, 
 Proscribed, devoted to the chase, 
 I hold this cumbrous load of life, 
 
 Avenging powers ! from you ; 
 The remnant of its dreary strife 
 
 To hoarded vengeance due 1 
 But ye live on; and lowly kneel, 
 And crouching kiss the impending steel, 
 Which, in mere weariness of toil, 
 Full sated with your kinsmen's spoil, 
 May haply grant the boon to live ; 
 For this your cringing taubut give ; 
 And o'er your father's hallowed grave 
 Drag the foul members of the slave ! 
 
YAMOYDEN. 191 
 
 O slaves ! the children of the free ! 
 The hunted brute cries shame on ye ! 
 At bay each threatening horn he turns, 
 As fierce the enclosing circle burns ; 
 And ye are baited in your lair, 
 And will ye fight not for despair ?" 
 
 XXII. 
 
 Thus spoke the SACHEM in his ire, 
 Bright anger blazing in his eye ; 
 And, as the bolt of living fire 
 Streams through The horrors of the s-ky, 
 Kindling the "pine, whose flames aspire 
 In one red pyramid on high, 
 In all his warriors, as he spoke, 
 The rising fury fiercely woke ; 
 Each tomahawk, in madness swayed, 
 Gleamed mid the forest's quivering shade ; 
 Loud rose the war-whoop, wild and shrill ; 
 The frowning rock, the towering hill 
 
 Prolonged the indignant cry : 
 Far o'er the stilly aether borne, 
 By the light .pinions of the morn, 
 It fell on the lonely traveller's ear, 
 Round on the wilderness in fear 
 
 He gazed with anxious eye ; 
 On distant wave the wanderer well 
 Knew the loud larum terrible, 
 And trembled at the closing swell, 
 
 As slow its echoes die. 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 " 'Tis well no more," the SACHEM said, 
 " The Spirit hears your answer made. 
 But who art thou, whose arm alone 
 Hangs nerveless at thy side ? 
 
J*' 
 
 YAMOYDtftf. 
 
 Who mak'st thyself mid warriors one* 
 And, dog-like, hast no single tone, 
 
 To swell their shout of pride ? 
 Son of a base and recreant band ! 
 Who from the common tyrant's hand, 
 Took the war-hatchet, blood died pledge 
 Of peace between them and our foe, 
 And proved too well how keen its edge ; 
 Its temper well their brethren know, 
 MIANTONIMO'S honoured head 
 Our laggard vengeance will upbraid ; 
 CANONCHET and PANOQUIN, slain 
 By coward hands, look forth in vain, 
 From their eternal towers, to spy 
 Mohegan ghosts go wandering by ; 
 For blood a thousand heroes cry, 
 Whose bones, untombed, dishonoured lie : 
 No kindred hands, with reverent care, 
 Those relics from the waste shall bear ; 
 Ne'er from his path shall traveller turn, 
 Beside their grassy mound to mourn ; 
 Nor, prostrate stretched beside their grave, 
 Sighing shall say there sleep the brave ! 
 And shalt thou live, and mingle here 
 With those their memory who revere ?" 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 Young AGAMOUN, by many a snare 
 Of fame, revenge and promise fair, 
 Long since from the Mohegan shore 
 The Sachem and his warriors bore : 
 Then the young hero's heart beat high, 
 With all the patriot's sympathy ; 
 Fierce as the battle god, for fight 
 Collecting his unconquered might, 
 

 YAMOYDEN. 193 
 
 Along the war-path of the heaven, 
 
 Revealed in red and sulphurous levin, 
 
 Rolling his gloomy clouds afar, 
 
 Exulting at the scent of war ; 
 
 So he went forth, in strength and youth, 
 
 And hailed hope's paltering form as truth : 
 
 But years had passed since hope grew cold ; 
 
 False was the fraudful tale she told ; 
 
 Ambition's dream and promise high 
 
 Were but the song of birds flown by ! 
 
 He saw his marshalled tribe oppose 
 
 Their brethren, as their mortal foes ; 
 
 He saw their scanted numbers fail, 
 
 Like autumn's leaves on winter's gale ; 
 
 Until, his hopes, his followers gone, 
 
 The western chief remained alone. 
 
 Mistrust and jealousy had torn 
 
 A noble heart by fortune worn ; 
 
 From council and from power estranged, 
 
 He saw the SACHEM'S visage changed ; 
 
 The silver chain, in earthly dust, 
 
 Had caught the stains of human rust ; 
 
 Till in the hour of adverse fate, 
 
 Its links were snapp'd for e'er by hate. 
 
 . XXV. 
 
 So where at first, with gurgling rush, 
 The founts of mighty rivers gush, 
 So near the kindred streamlets flow, 
 Their pebbly channels murmuring through, 
 Their distance at a stride the child 
 May measure, as he gambols wild : 
 Each, mingling with its countless tides, 
 O'er earth's unequal bosom glides, 
 Through adverse climes and distant realms,- 
 And when their tribute ocean whelms, 
 von, i. B B 
 
 v -* ' 
 

 
 
 194 YAMOYDEN. 
 
 With stranger name each stream appears^ 
 Disgorged in different hemispheres. 
 Untainted yet by crime and wo/ 
 While nature's generous currents flow, 
 Thro' sympathy's luxuriant mould, 
 Hearts, side by side, their course may hold ^ 
 But parted on the wastes of tkne, 
 How soon forgot that earlier clime I 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 " Speak ! traitor, >speak T thy thoughts unfold I 
 Be thy cloaked treasons instant told ! 
 Whizzes in air the venomed dart, 
 Ere yet it rankles in the heart ; 
 Prepared to sting the lurking snake 
 His monitory hiss will wake * 
 Hiss, serpent, hiss I" 
 
 The SACHEM spoke : 
 Resentment rising seemed to choke 
 The words of wrath that forth had broke : 
 But conscience lent her bland relief, 
 And calmly spoke the injured chief. 
 << Whate'er of private feud nay heart 
 To my tongue's language might impart, 
 I learned to bury and to hide, 
 When battling on my country's side. 
 Who, when her sacred cause inspires, 
 Enkindles at polluted fires, 
 Where unclean spirits hold retreat, 
 Where none but the impure may meet r ; 
 His passions base, revenge or pride, 
 Curs'd be that guilty parricide ! 
 O noteless in the songs of fame, 
 A beacon blaze his recreant name 
 Hovering for ever may it be 
 O'er the dull fens of infamy ! 
 
 
 
 
 ? 
 
YAMOYDEN. 
 
 195 
 
 The stem must crack the cause must fail, 
 If such unholy warmth prevail ! jr^ft'i 
 But wherefore more ? ye've known me long, 
 Ye saw me when your cause was strong 
 Ye proved me when your hopes were weak, 
 If ye have found me wanting, speak !. 
 
 " Here if we linger, what remains ? 
 
 Inglorious death, accursed chains ! 
 
 Ah ! tho' the bleak and sheeted blast 
 
 Round Haup's bare cliffs its shroud shall cast, 
 
 And sweep in howling, wild affray 
 
 The sere and shivering leaves away, 
 
 Again its daemons far will fly, 
 
 When milder spirits rule the sky ; 
 
 The moon of birds her horns will show, 
 
 The bough will bud, the fountain flow ; 
 
 But METACOM, thy second spring 
 
 No Weko-lis shall ever singi 
 
 Once Pawkanawkut's warriors stood, 
 
 Thick as the columns of the wood ; 
 
 On shores and isles, unconquered men 
 
 Called MASSASOIET father, then : 
 
 The blasting wind with poisoned breath 
 
 Brought on its withered pinions death, 
 
 Ere bade the OWANNOX o^er the deep 
 
 Their castle-barks triumphant sweep : 
 
 Past is the Autumn of our pride, 
 
 When every leaf with blood was died : 
 
 And now dread Winter's troop alone 
 
 Shriek round our power and promise gone i 
 
 From earth when nations perish, ne'er 
 
 Again their leaflets shall appear. 
 
 The stranger, in the after time, 
 
 Weets not of glory's earlier clime I 
 
 
 
196 YAMOYDEN. 
 
 Perchance, like yon dwarf firs that grow 
 
 Rooted in rocky cleft on high, 
 
 As things above, or joy or wo, 
 
 That frown against the beauteous sky, 
 
 Of all our tribes, the heirs of want, 
 
 A feeble few our land may haunt ; 
 
 The gloomy ghosts of dead renown 
 
 Awhile from sire to son go down ; 
 
 And as with spectral visit say 
 
 That here the red men once had sway ! 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 " Veiling in gloom his awful face, 
 The Spirit smiles not on our race, 
 As once he smiled with beams of bliss, 
 Ere discord's snakes were heard to hiss. 
 One council fire the nations knew ; 
 One ample roof o'er all was spread ; 
 The stately tree beside it grew, 
 ' The skies of blue rose overhead. 
 Once on our wampum-belts how fair 
 The stainless lines of peace were wrought , 
 And all the sacred symbols there 
 With wise and friendly meaning fraught I 
 Once circling far the glittering chain . 
 Begirt the sea, the isles, the main ; 
 The belt is broke ; the chain is riven, ftj> 
 
 And we are left by angry heaven ! 
 Fraught with our weal and with our wo, 
 The tide of fate runs deep and slow ; 
 On to eternity it rides, 
 
 Mysterious as the wave, 
 Where Huron disembogues its tides, 
 That slowly rises, slow subsides, 
 
 As cycles find their grave. 
 
YAMOYDEN. 197 
 
 Full low our country's best blood runs, 
 And few and feeble are her sons ; 
 Will ye the desperate venture try, 
 And leave the dreary channel dry ? 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 " Wild are the wolds and deep the woods 
 
 That girdle far our western floods. 
 
 There merrily the red deer roam, 
 
 There may we fight ourselves a home ! 
 
 Yet may submission purchase peace" 
 
 " Cease," cried the furious SACHEM, " cease !" 
 
 For long had died the war-whoop's strain, 
 
 The warrior's fire was quenched again. 
 
 As the last meanings of the gale 
 
 Sigh out the tempest's sad farewell, 
 
 The whirlwind wakened by their lord 
 
 In mournful murmurs died; 
 And thro' that melancholy horde. ?** 
 
 Sunk all their wakened pride. 
 
 XXX. 
 
 " Traitor, enough ! thy wish is given ! 
 Go howl around the .walls of heaven ! 
 There's ample room, apostate ! there ; 
 Go thou that company to share 
 Of spectres vile, whom doom decreed 
 Proclaims the dastard traitor's meed. 
 For aye those guilty shadows speed 
 
 Swift thro' that misty land, 
 On feverish chase, which end hath none, 
 Whose phantom game shall ne'er be won, ;/.*/ t 
 Till retribution shall be done ; 
 
 Go, then, to join the band ! 
 
198 YAMOYDEN. 
 
 Seal with thy blood the covenant made, 
 When UNCAS first our rights betrayed. 
 The white man's arms are best employed, 
 Their recreant proselyte destroyed." 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 He said, and from beside him caught 
 The tube with deadly vengeance fraught ; 
 Then instant forth AHAUTON stood 
 (He too of the Mohegan blood), 
 But short the raving SACHEM broke 
 The words the intercessor spoke. 
 "By Sassacous' honoured bones, 
 Where'er, untombed in sacred stones, 
 In the fierce Maquas clime they lie 
 No more, or with him shalt thou die !" 
 Then on his friend the sentenced chief 
 Cast a last look intent and brief; 
 It bade AHAUTON not to dare 
 The wolf's wild fangs within his lair, 
 But life for nobler vengeance bear. 
 Stern lowered the Wampanoags round, 
 \. k Subdued beneath their chieftain's frown ; 
 
 Breathed to the doom of death no sound, 
 While AGAMOUN knelt calmly down, 
 Unblenched and firm ; awhile his gaze 
 The horde, the earth, the heaven surveys, 
 As giving them -his last good-bye : 
 " Brothers ! behold a warrior die ! 
 For kindred let the white men grieve ; 
 To those who love me, all I leave . 
 Is the large legacy of hate ! 
 True as the ball that drinks my blood, 
 Mohegan warriors shall make good 
 To METACOM and his the debt. 
 
YAMOYDEPC. 
 
 199 
 
 Escape be yours.; but O ! if won, 
 
 Beware !" he spoke no more, 
 For closely now the levelled gun 
 
 Was placed his heart before. 
 
 f __ 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 A moment's pause intensely still, 
 A quick, cold, deep and silent thrill, 
 The steel gives fire, the chieftain fell, 
 The death-shot's sound his only knell, *&r 
 And a low murmur's smothered tone 
 His parting requiem alone I 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 " Take, ARESKOUI ! take thine 6wn !" 
 With voice subdued the SACHEM said, 
 " A braver offering never bled, 
 To thee in battle's gory bed ! 
 And I could mourn the recreant thought 
 By which so dear a life was bought, 
 But that I may not waste a sigh, 
 On foul, infectious treachery. 
 Brothers, away ! notyet the foe 
 These our last haunts of safety know ; 
 Till better days, our watch- word be 
 Hope, vigilance, and secrecy." 
 
 XXXIV. 
 
 jj? .;' L ;\ r>' '-. ' V's'f '* '>< i - ffi" '' 
 
 They raise the bleeding corse, and back 
 Hold to their dark retreat the track ; 
 With METAcoMTemains alone 
 The brave, the generous ANNAWON. 
 " Brother and friend," the SACHEM cried, . 
 " The only friend my fortunes know, 
 When all by.kin, by love allied, 
 Are captive to the unpitying foe, 
 

 200 YAMOYDEN, 
 
 Or unavenged, are journeying slow 
 To that far world where spirits go : 
 
 friend ! my trust is firm in thee, 
 As in his dream the initiate's faith; 
 Calm is thy soul: in victory, 
 
 And bold when comes the hour of scaith. 
 Yon trembling herd it is not meet 
 Should read our final purpose yet ; 
 Their courage is an old year's flame, 
 Polluted and unworth the name ; 
 Terror alone their hearts must sway 
 For this the brave has bled to-day. 
 But I must fly my native earth, 
 My father's throne and council-hearth ; 
 I, of the peerless eagle race, 
 Must fly the hawk's unwonted chase, 
 The insatiate hawk who all will have, 
 Nor yields his victim e'en a grave ! 
 Since childhood's earlier moons were dead, 
 When I forgot what things had been, 
 And claimed to rank with warrior men 
 Of mortal foe I knew no dread. 
 Had nature made these limbs to quail 
 At danger's front, the white men ne'er 
 Had chilled them with the spells of fear ; 
 For, in those hours when dreams prevail, 
 When on the boy's bewildered eyes 
 The future's shadowy visions rise, 
 
 1 learn'd to' fear nor wound nor fate 
 From those pale offspring of the east : . 
 This too oft sung the illumined priest, 
 When heaven he might interrogate, 
 Ere the Manittos' voices ceased. 
 
 This have I felt, when slaughter fell 
 Shrieked in my ear its murderous yell ; 
 
#** . * 
 
 ',* 
 
 YAMOYDEN. 201 
 
 'This in the kindling battle's mell, <x o. 
 In deathful stour was proven well ; 
 This have my widowed fortunes found, 
 When all I love lie cold around ; 
 When like a blasted trunk, alone, 
 Leaf, blossom, bud, and scion gone, 
 I stand, the fire, the axedefy, 
 And swift-consuming bolts on high* 
 It is not fear ! but o'er my heart 
 The shade of sorrow oft will fly ; 
 And though from these fair scenes to part 
 Might ask the tribute of a sigh, 
 That sigh, the last, the only one, 
 Becomes not MASSASOIET'S son ! 
 
 XXXV. \ 
 
 " But let this pass ; by fraud or force, 
 Through Nipnet tribes we hold our course ; 
 YAMOYDEN to their broken bands 
 Yet dear, must through their northern lands 
 Make smooth our path. Thou say'st that he 
 Lists in Aquetnet's woods to hear 
 A bird, whose music is more dear 
 Than vengeance or than liberty* 
 A turtle-dove he nurses there, 
 And shelters with a parent's care. 
 That nest must be despoiled ! the chief 
 Must share our common bond of grief! 
 And hear me, chieftain ere our flight, 
 The last, the long-neglected rite, 
 Again must blaze in midnight gloom, 
 Prove if the spirits yet be dumb ! 
 Since ARESKOUI sees no more, 
 Supine in heaven, his children's wo, 
 Evoking powers, our friends of yore, 
 
 VOL. I. C C 
 
202 YAMOYDES. 
 
 The sacrifice of blood must pour, 
 And o'er their awful altars flow !" 
 
 XXXVI. 
 
 Here pause we for a while the song, 
 While they their counsels wild prolong, 
 Where many a troubled accent came, 
 Oft mingling with YAMOYDEN'S name. 
 
YAMOYDEN. 
 
 CANTO SECOND. 
 
 HAIL ! sober evening ! thee the harassed brain 
 And aching heart with fond orisons greet : 
 The respite thou of toil ; the balm of pain ; 
 To thoughtful mind the hour for musing meet : 
 'Tis then the sage, from forth his lone retreat, 
 The rolling universe around espies ; 
 'Tis then the bard may hold communion sweet 
 With lovely shapes, unkenned by grosser eyes, 
 And quick perception comes of finer mysteries. 
 
 The silent hour of bliss ! when in the west 
 Her argent cresset lights the star of love : 
 The spiritual hour ! when creatures blest 
 Unseen return o'er former haunts to rove ; 
 While sleep his shadowy mantle spreads above, 
 Sleep, brother of forgetfulness and death,. 
 Round well-known couch, with noiseless tread they rove, 
 In tones of heavenly music comfort b eathe, 
 And tell what weal ^r bale shall chance the moon beneath. 
 
 Hour of devotion ! like a distant sea, 
 
 The world's loud voices faintly murmuring die ; 
 
 Responsive to the spheral harmony, 
 
 While grateful hymns are borne from earth on high. 
 
204 YAMOYDEN. 
 
 O ! who can gaze on yon unsullied sky, 
 And not grow purer from the heavenward view ! 
 As those, the Virgin Mother's meek, full eye, 
 Who met, if uninspired lore be true, 
 Felt a new birth within, and sin no longer knew. 
 
 Let others hail the oriflamme of morn, 
 O'er kindling hills unfurled with gorgeous dies ! 
 O mild, blue Evening ! still to thee I turn, 
 With holier thought, and with undazzled eyes ; ? 
 Where wealth and power with gla,re and splendour rise, 
 Let fools and slaves disgustful incense burn ! 
 Still Memory's moonlight lustre let me prize ; 
 The great, the good, whose course is o'er, discern, 
 And, from their glories past, time's mighty lessons learn, ! 
 
 L 
 
 The sun is sinking from the sky 
 In calm and cloudless majesty ; 
 And cooler hours, with gentle sway, 
 Succeed the fiery heat of day. 
 Forest and shore and rippling tide 
 Confess the evening's influence wide, 
 Seen lovelier in that fading light, 
 That heralds the approaching night ; 
 That magic colouring nature throws, 
 To deck her beautiful repose ; 
 When floating on the breeze of even, 
 Long clouds of purple streak the heaven, 
 With brighter tints of glory blending, 
 Apd darker hues of night descending. 
 While hastening to its shady rest 
 Each weary songster seeks its nest, 
 Chanting a last, a farewell lay, 
 As gloomier falls the parting day, 
 
YAMOYDEN. 205 
 
 II. 
 
 Broad Narraganset's bosom blue 
 Has shone with every varying hue ; 
 The mystic alchymy of even 
 Its rich delusions all has given. 
 The silvery sheet unbounded spread, 
 First melting from the waters fled ; 
 Next the wide path of beaten gold 
 Flashing with fiery sparkles rolled ; 
 As all its gorgeous glories died, 
 An amber tinge blushed o'er the tide ; 
 Faint and more faint, as more remote, 
 The lessening ripples peaceful float ; 
 And now, one ruby line alone 
 Trembles, is paler, and is gone, - 
 And from the blue wave fades away 
 The last life- tint of dying day ! 
 In darkness veiled, was seen no more 
 Connanicut's extended shore ; 
 Each little isle with bosom green, 
 Descending mists impervious screen ; 
 One gloomy shade o'er all the woods 
 Of forest-fringed Aquetnet broods ; 
 Where solemn oak was seen before 
 Beside the rival sycamore, 
 Or pine and cedar lined the height, 
 AH in one livery brown were dight. 
 
 Ill, 
 
 But lo ! with orb serene on high, 
 
 The round moon climbs the eastern sky 5 
 
 The stars all quench their feebler rays 
 
 Before her universal blaze. 
 
 Round moon ! how sweetly dost thou smile, 
 
 Above that green reposing isle, 
 
206 VA.MOYDEN. 
 
 Soft cradled in the illumined bay, 
 Where from its banks the shadows seem 
 Melting in filmy light scway. 
 Far does thy tempered lustre stream. 
 Checkering the tufted groves on high, 
 While glens in gloom beneath them lie. 
 Oft sheeted with the ghostly beam, 
 Mid the thick forest's mass of shade, 
 The shingled roof is gleaming white, 
 Where labour, in the cultured glade, 
 Has all the wild a garden made. 
 And there with silvery tassels bright 
 The serried maize is waving slow, 
 While fitful shadows come and go, 
 Swift o'er its undulating seas, 
 As gently breathes the evening breeze. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Solemn it is, in greenwoods deep, 
 That magic light o'er nature's sleep ; 
 Where in long ranks the pillars gray 
 Aloft their mingling structures bear, 
 Mingling, in gloom or tracery fair, 
 Where find the unbroken beams their way, 
 Or through close trellis flickering stray, 
 While sheeny leaflets here and there 
 Flutter, with momentary glow. 
 'Tis wayward life revealed below, 
 With checkered gleams of joy and wo ! 
 And those pure realms above that shine, 
 So chaste, so vivid, so divine, 
 Are the sole type that heaven has shown 
 Of those more lovely realms, its own ! 
 
 V. 
 
 There is no sound amid the trees, 
 Save the faint brush of rustling breeze ; 
 
YAMOYDEN. 
 
 Save insect sentinels, that still 
 Prolong their constant larum shrill, 
 And answer all, from tree to tree, 
 With one monotonous revelry. 
 And at this hushed and solemn hour, 
 As gradual through the tangled woods, 
 Mystery usurps her wonted power, 
 The spirit of the solitudes, 
 Musing upon her lonely state, 
 As plains the dove her absent mate, 
 Sad NORA sits, and mournfully 
 Sings her dear infant's lullaby. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Sorrow had been her lot. She loved, 
 As few have loved of earthly frame ; 
 And misery but too well had proved 
 Her anguished heart was still the same. 
 Ere Areskoui's wild alarms 
 Called all the red men forth to arms, 
 A Nipnet chieftain wooed and won 
 Her virgin love ; and when begun 
 The desolating strife, his care 
 Long screened her from the quest of war. 
 Night closed on PHILIP'S victor day, 
 And hurrying in the desperate fray, 
 The Nipnet chieftain with his bride 
 Were borne near Haup's beleaguered side. 
 A home he found, that none could know, 
 So deemed the chief, or friend, or foe ; 
 He placed her in that island grove, 
 With one dear pledge of mutual love. 
 Deep in the forest's bosom green, 
 
 Their cot embowered arose ; 
 Enveloped in its woven screen, 
 
 And wrapt in calm repose. 
 
 207 
 
208 YAMOYPEN. 
 
 The fairy humming-bird could scarce 
 Amid the boughs its entrance pierce \ 
 And practised Indian's hunter eye 
 Would fail to trace its mystery.- 
 One eye alone its labyrinth knew* 
 One only heart to NORA true. 
 Here while her vigil sad she keeps, 
 And lists in vain YAMOYDEN'S steps, 
 Her weeping babe she hushed to rest, 
 And lulled upon her heaving breast, 
 Or wove a passing strain to cheat 
 The tedious hours with music sweet. 
 
 VII. 
 
 " Sleep, child of my love ! be thy slumber as light 
 As the red bird's that nestles secure on the spray \ 
 
 Be the visions that visit thee fairy and bright 
 As the dew drops that sparkle around with the ray ! 
 
 soft flows the breath from thine innocent breast ; 
 In the wild wood, sleep cradles in roses thy head ; 
 
 But her who protects thee, a wanderer unbless'd, 
 
 He forsakes, or surrounds with his phantoms of dread. 
 
 1 fear for thy father ! why stays he so long 
 
 On the shores where the wife of the giant was thrown, 
 And the sailor oft lingered to hearken her song, 
 
 So sad o'er the wave, e'er she hardened to stone. 
 He skims the blue tide in his birchen canoe, 
 
 Where the foe in the moon-beams his path may descry 
 The ball to its scope may speed rapid and true, 
 
 And lost in the wave be thy father's death cry ! 
 The POWER that is round us, whose presence is near, 
 
 In the gloom and the solitude felt by the soul, 
 Protect that frail bark in its lonely career, 
 
 And shield thee, when roughly life's billows shall roll." 
 
YAMOYDEN. 209 
 
 VIII. 
 
 The noise of parting boughs was heard, 
 
 Within the wood a footstep stirred : 
 
 The partner of her griefc appears, 
 
 To kiss away her falling tears. 
 
 " And oh !" YAMOYDEN said, " that thou 
 
 This sad reverse of life should'st know ! 
 
 Wretch that I was, with hand unbless'd, 
 
 To snatch this nursling from her nest, 
 
 And bear her with me darkly on, 
 
 Through horror's tide and misery's moan ! 
 
 Alone, though wild the tempest raved, 
 
 The roar, the flash, I might have braved ; 
 
 But thou, so young, so wondrous fair, 
 
 A wanderer's restless lot to share" 
 
 " Mpurn not for me," she calm replied, 
 
 " With thee, the worst I can abide ; 
 
 And hope and joy are present here 
 
 Mid tenfold gloom, if thou art near. 
 
 And in the hour of darkest ill, 
 
 There is a hope a refuge still 
 
 Lift we our thoughts, our prayers on high,* 
 
 There's comfort in eternity !" 
 
 IX. 
 
 In rapt delight the chieftain gazed, 
 Her pale, fair brow was upward raised ; 
 In her blue eye devotion shone, 
 With that mild radiance, all its own, 
 Such as might mark, with purer light, 
 O'er heaven a passing seraph's flight. 
 " NORA, thou cam'st, mid dreary strife, 
 To bless and cheer a wayward life ; 
 O ! thou wast borne upon my sight, 
 
 VOL. I. D D 
 
210 YAMOYDEK. 
 
 In blessedness and beauty given, 
 Of all good tidings omen fair ; 
 As floating through the azure air, 
 The Wakon bird descends from heaven, 
 Poised on his fleet and equal wings, 
 And from his glittering train far flings, 
 Marking his pathway from above, 
 The rainbow hues of peace and love I 
 Not vain hath been thy care to teaeh 
 The great, good Spirit's beloved speech : 
 And not in vain thy words have shown 
 The prophet who from high came down, 
 The Priest and Offering. I have sought 
 His ear, with prayers thy lips have taught, 
 When clouds above were deep and dread, 
 And brightness seemed around them shed, 
 Till, like yon snow-wreaths of the sky r 
 They passed in fading lustre by. 
 When lone I cross'd the silent wave, 
 While its soft light the moon-beam gave, 
 And all above, and all below, 
 Was kindling with the heavenly glow, 
 My heart was full of prayer ; and then, 
 Methought thy hopes would not be vain. 
 I felt the Comforter appear, 
 And every doubt and every fear 
 Depart ; the cheering presence stole 
 With sweeter influence on my soul, 
 Than the mild breeze around my frame, 
 That o'er the tranquil waters came. 
 Oh ! on the bare and wintry ground, 
 When utter darkness reigned around, 
 Oft have I .watched the morning star 
 Break through the eastern mists afar ;, 
 But never yet upon my view 
 It came in such immortal hue, 
 
YAMOYDEN. 211 
 
 As that glad beam of hope that stole 
 Above the darkness of my souL" 
 
 %- '.'& t\ 
 
 Entranced in sudden bliss they sate, 
 Forgetful of the storms of fate ; 
 With thoughts by favoured minstrels sung 
 
 Amid their happiest numbers, 
 While o'er her child the mother hung 
 
 And marked its innocent slumbers ; 
 Or met YAMOYDEN'S kindling gaze 
 Where mingling love and rapture blaze: 
 The hawk's wild scream the silence broke, 
 Again the sense of pain awoke. 
 
 XL 
 
 41 And I must go," the chieftain cried, 
 
 " To join the children of despair ; 
 
 The eagle may fly to his mountain side, 
 
 And the panther from toils and death may hide, 
 
 In his wood-circled lair ; 
 
 But they, the lords of earth and sea, 
 
 May to no home of refuge flee !" 
 
 " O why forsake thy child and me ? 
 
 Thou art not summoned there 
 
 Where thou, a Christian, may'st again 
 
 Thy hands with Christian slaughter stain !" 
 
 " NORA, if recreant thought were here, 
 
 For us what hope, what home is near ? 
 
 The base Mohegan's hand would sink 
 
 The treacherous axe within my brain ; 
 
 I have not learn'd from death to shrink, 
 
 Yet keener far than torture's pain, 
 
 Or the vile foe's exulting strain, 
 
 It were, upon thy woes to think ; 
 
 For thou, thy kinsmen's scorn, would'st live 
 
 Un pitied and alone to grieve. 
 
212 YAMOYDEN.* 
 
 And this my boy it cannot be ! 
 I would, when I am dead, that he 
 Should be the Indian's friend, should bear 
 Glad tidings to our tribes dispersed ; 
 Should plant the vine and olive there, 
 And deep beneath the foliage fair 
 Bury the tomahawk accursed. 
 But friend and foe alike would shun 
 The traitor's child, the coward's son ! 
 They shall not say that when the fire 
 Circled the hunted herd, his sire 
 Wept like the roebuck when he flies, 
 And died as warrior never dies. 
 
 XII. 
 
 " I sought Seaconet's queen to try 
 
 Her faith once plighted to the brave ; 
 
 Put she, in sore extremity, 
 
 Received the axe the white men gave ; 
 
 Her tribe has joined their battle cry ; 
 
 Alone, unaided, we must fly, 
 
 Break through our toils, the hunter bands, 
 
 To find a home in happier lands. 
 
 O haply yet, our dangers past, 
 
 Some bless'd retreat may rise at last. 
 
 Yet may we find some lovely plain, 
 
 A world within itself our own ; 
 
 Encircled by a mountain chain, 
 
 Whose crests eternal forests crown ; 
 
 While through the midst, serene and slow, 
 
 A gently winding stream shall flow, 
 
 Those woods, whose undisputed sway 
 
 The buskined hunter genii keep, 
 
 That stream, whose banks, in guileful play, 
 
 Behold the wily red fox leap, 
 
 To snare the sportive birds, whose fate 
 
 Those treacherous gambols proves too late, 
 
 
YAMOYDEN. 213 
 
 Those scenes no war-whoop shall assail : 
 The vines untrod shall clothe the vale, 
 Thick mantling with their cheerful hues 
 And clustering with their purple store ; 
 From the full bark the honeyed juice 
 Its gushing treasures round shall pour ; 
 There melons with their varying die 
 Shall bask beneath a milder, sky ; 
 The plumed maize, with shapely blade, 
 Shall stand like marshalled host arrayed. 
 Oh ! there the tranquil hours shall flow, 
 Calm as the glassy wave below ; 
 Remembrance of past griefs shall cease 
 In the sweet bosom of that peace, 
 Yielding sweet stream g of comfort blest, 
 Like balmy fountains of the west, 
 Which spirits gift by healing charm, 
 With unction meet for every harm !" 
 
 XIII. 
 
 " YAMOYDEN, 'tis a blissful dream, 
 A glimpse of heaven thro* thunder-clouds ; 
 Despair forbids such light to beam 
 O'er the deep gloom our fate that shrouds. 
 Dark is the lord whose desperate cause 
 Thou followest ; yet for reason pause ; 
 Pause, ere that heart of guilt and guile 
 Entrap thee in its latest wile !" 
 " Fear not ; his wasted power forbids 
 The secret hope of hostile deeds. 
 Yet if Revenge the spirit be 
 That holds the SACHEM company, 
 How shall his foes the outlaw blame, 
 Or marvel whence the daemon came ? 
 Can he forget, while heaves his breath, 
 An outraged brother's captive death ? 
 
214 YAMOYDEN. 
 
 Can he forget the lurid light 
 Of Narraganset's bloody night? 
 The forests broad his fathers swayed, 
 O'errun beneath the oppressor's tread ; 
 The bones that bleach in every fen, 
 The perished race of warrior men ; 
 The limbs once cast in freedom's mould, 
 Fettered in slavery's iron hold ; 
 The wanderer of the lonely place 
 Waylaid, and tortured to confess ; 
 His kindred slain, or captive led ; 
 A price upon his homeless head ; 
 
 ! his are wrongs that but with death 
 From burning memory can depart ; 
 All the pure waters of thy faith 
 
 Could wash them ne'er from human heart ! 
 
 XIV. 
 
 * Farewell ! the sound is as the wail 
 That rises o'er the closing grave ! 
 While yet the shades of night prevail, 
 My boat must cross once more the wave. 
 
 1 go to speed our brethren's flight, 
 And with the morrow's closing light, 
 Return to bear thee hence, and far 
 For ever fly from sounds of war." 
 
 " Farewell ! I will not weep ;" she said, 
 Tho' stealing from its liquid bed 
 There fell the unbidden tear ; 
 " I will not weep ; a warrior's wife 
 Must learn the moods of wayward life, 
 Nor know the form of fear. 
 There is a chill my bosom o'er, 
 Which sadly says, we meet no more. 
 But let it pass ; farewell ! and GOD 
 Preserve thee, on the path of blood !" 
 
YAMOYDEN. 215 
 
 XV. 
 
 Mlite was their last embrace, and sad, 
 
 Forth fared the chief thro' forest shade ; 
 
 And still, like statue of despair 
 
 His lonely bride stood fixed there, 
 
 Gazing entranced on vacant air ; 
 
 Sense, feeling, wrapt in this alone, 
 
 The cherished theme of love was gone. 
 
 One throb remained ; the spell it broke, 
 
 When her unconscious infant woke ; 
 
 Maternal cares recalled her thought, 
 
 And soothed her labouring breast o'erfraught, 
 
 While thus again her accents flow 
 
 In deep accordance with her wo. 
 
 XVI. 
 1. 
 
 " They say that afar in the land of the west, 
 Where the bright golden sun sinks in glory to rest, 
 Mid fens where the hunter ne'er ventured to tread, 
 A fair lake unruffled and sparkling is spread ; 
 Where, lost in his course, the rapt Indian discovers, 
 In distance seen dimly, the green isle of lovers. 
 
 2. 
 
 " There verdure fades never ; immortal in bloom, 
 Soft waves the magnolia its groves of perfume ; 
 And low bends the branch with rich fruitage depressed, 
 All glowing like gems in the crowns of the east ; 
 There the bright eye of nature, in mild glory hovers : 
 'Tis the land of the sunbeam, the green isle of lovers ! 
 
 3. 
 
 " Sweet strains wildly float on the breezes that kiss 
 
 The calm-flowing lake round that region of bliss ; ^ : 
 
 Where, wreathing their garlands of amaranth, fair choirs 
 
 Glad measures still weave to the sound that inspires 
 
216 YAMOYDEN. 
 
 The dance and the revel, mid forests that cover 
 On high with their shade the green isle of the lover* 
 
 4. 
 
 " But fierce as the snake with his eyeballs of fire, 
 When his scales are all brilliant and glowing with ire, 
 Are the warriors to all, save the maids of their isle, 
 Whose law is their will, and whose life is their smile ; 
 From beauty there valour and strength are not rovers, 
 And peace reigns supreme in the green isle of lovers* 
 
 5. 
 
 " And he who has sought to set foot on its shore, 
 
 In mazes perplex'd, has beheld it no more ; 
 
 It fleets on the vision, deluding the view, 
 
 Its banks still retire as the hunters pursue ; 
 
 O ! who in this vain world of wo shall discover, 
 
 The home undisturbed, the green isle of the lover !" 
 
 XVII. 
 
 What sound was that, so wildly sad, 
 As by prophetic spirit made ? 
 So sudden, mid the silence deep, 
 Breaking on nature's death-like sleep ? 
 'Twas but the lonely We-ko-lis, 
 Who oft, at such an hour as this, 
 Had from the woven boughs around 
 Prolonged her melancholy sound. 
 But now she perched upon the roof, 
 And from her wonted spray aloof, 
 In interrupted notes of wo 
 Poured forth her solemn music slow, 
 With tremulous and mournful note, 
 Now nearer heard, and now remote. 
 And she had heard an Indian tell, 
 Such sound foreboded sudden bale. 
 It was the soul of a lovelorn maid, 
 Who mourned her warrior slain, he said. 
 
YAMOYDEN. 217 
 
 But little faith, I ween, had she, oll*^ 
 
 A Christian bred, in augury ; 
 Yet strove, alternate fear and shame, 
 Till all the woman's terrors came. 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 There is a trampling in the wood ; 
 The mat, the cabin's entrance rude, 
 Shakes ; it was no dream of fear, = 
 Behold an Indian's face appear ; 
 He stands within the cot, and three 
 Come scowling in his company. 
 Ask not what terrors o'er her pass'd, 
 As fixed as stood the patriarch's wife* 
 When the forbidden glance she cast, 
 And lightning rooted her aghast, 
 Leaving a mock of life, 
 Gazing she sate, in silent dread, 
 Till sight was gone, and thought was dead : 
 Yet close, and closer still she press'd 
 The sleeping infant on her breast ; 
 A mother's instinct quick was left, 
 Of other sign of life bereft. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 But when she felt an iron grasp 
 Tearing that infant from her clasp, 
 Her piercing scream the forest rent, 
 And all despair's high strength was sent 
 Gathering around her heart ; 
 " O mercy, Jesus ! save my child !" 
 She cried in tones so sadly wild, 
 The WAMPANOAG, fierce and bold, 
 Shrunk from his purpose, and his hold 
 Relaxed with sudden start. 
 
 VOL. I. E E 
 
218 YAMOYDEIV- 
 
 Her spoiler's dusky brow she scanned, 
 Yet struggling from his ruthless hand 
 Her wailing child to tear, 
 As one would mark the madman's eye, 
 When a fearful precipice was nigh, 
 And he had grasped him there. 
 She met his glances, stern and keen, 
 Such might the hungry wolfs have been, 
 Whose spoils now swathed him round ; 
 And in his front all bare and bleak, 
 And in his high, scar-riven cheek, 
 No line of mercy found. 
 A rapid look surveyed the rest ; 
 In vain to them despair may cling ! 
 Ah ! sooner mantling verdure blest 
 On the bald thundercliff shall spring ! 
 
 XX. 
 
 The mother from her child is torn, 
 A cry that rent her heart forlorn, 
 Their murderous triumph told ; 
 Then kind oblivion came to save 
 From madness ; dark, as is the grave, 
 Dreamless, and void, and cold. 
 One bears her senseless in his arms, 
 Another stills the babe's alarms ; 
 Then through the forest's tangled way, 
 Swift and straight, towards the bay 
 Their path the Indians hold. 
 Each stepping where the first had gone, 
 'Twas but as the mark of one. 
 So noiseless was their cautious tread, 
 The wakeful squirrel overhead 
 Knew not that aught beneath him sped. 
 No bough recoiled as on they broke, 
 Scarce rustling leaf their impress spoke. 
 
YAMOYDEN. 219 
 
 XXI. 
 
 From the first blush who judges man. 
 Must ill his Maker's image scan : 
 The traveller in the boundless lands, 
 Where the fair west its stores expands, 
 Oft marks with cheerful green unblent, 
 High piled to heaven the bleak ascent, 
 As scathed and blasted by the fire, 
 That fell from the Almighty's ire. 
 But as along the vale he sweeps, 
 More gently swell the fir-clad steeps, 
 Till all the sunny mountain rise, 
 With golden crown amid the skies. 
 Not the swarth skin, nor rude address 
 Bespeak the bosom's dreariness ; 
 Happy, if thus the evil brain 
 Bore stamp'd the outward curse of Cain. 
 
 XXII. 
 
 Slowly from NORA'S wandering soul, 
 Oblivion's mists of midnight roll, 
 And, as she woke, to view again 
 Uncertain horror's spectral train, 
 Dashing waves were murmuring near, 
 Rode the bright moon high and clear : 
 The plunderers cross'd a shelving glade ; 
 Around the forest's mass of shade 
 Rose darkling ; and before, the bay 
 Was quivering with the silver ray. 
 Dim memory rose ; an Indian eye 
 Watched its first dawning earnestly. 
 Strange was the face that, frank and bold, 
 Spoke a heart cast in gentler mould. 
 He bore the waking lady up, 
 And lingered last of all the group ; 
 
220 YAMOYDEN. 
 
 Nor e'er at superstition's shrine, 
 Did votary mark the fire divine, 
 When wavering in its golden vase, 
 With feelings more intense, 
 Than o'er her wan and death-like face, 
 Like morning blushing o'er the snow, 
 The warrior watched the beaming glpw 
 Qf lost intelligence. 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 He pointed, where his comrade bore 
 Her infant in his arms, before. 
 His gaze with melting ruth was fraught, 
 And that uncertain peril taught 
 A language to his look : 
 Of needful silence in that hour, 
 Of rescue near from saviour power 
 And faithful aid it spoke. 
 But still they sped towards the wave, 
 And he whose glance had sworn to save, 
 Yet often eyed the circling wood 
 Where only gloom and mystery brood. 
 The rippling tides, the insects shrill, 
 At times the plaining whip-poor-will, 
 In melancholy concord wake ; 
 But other sound was none, to break 
 The wild suspense of hope and fear ; 
 There was no sign of rescue near. 
 Fair shone the moon ; but there gleamed no ray 
 Of hope in her calm and pearly way ; 
 Bright rolled the expanding floods below, 
 But there shone no promise in their flow } 
 The hues serene of nature's rest 
 But agonized her anxious breast. 
 
YAMOYDEN. 221 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 Nearer and nearer to the shore, 
 Their prize the hurrying party bore ; 
 The bank is gained ; its brake amid, 
 Their light canoe was closely hid. 
 While cautious its descent they guide, 
 To the calm bosom of the tide, 
 Their comrade, lingering yet above, 
 Gazed anxiously around to prove 
 His silent promise true ; 
 But not a sound is heard, nor sign 
 Is there of aid ; the giant pine 
 Its gloomy limbs unmoving bears, 
 And still the silent forest wears 
 Its sad and solemn hue. 
 
 XXV. 
 
 'Tis launched, they beckon him to haste ; 
 One glance he threw, and hope has pass'd, 
 No more could NORA brook to wait, 
 In passiveness, uncertain fate. 
 She shrieked, -far rung the loud alarm,- 
 And as she struggled from his arm 
 To break, whose faint resistance made 
 A moment's brief delay, 
 An Indian leaped to lend his aid ; 
 But, ere he touched the trembling maid, 
 Even in his middle way, 
 Loud from the wood a gunshot rung, 
 Straight from earth the NIPNET sprung, 
 Then, with but one mortal pain, 
 Dead he sunk upon the plain. 
 Again, again the volleys pour, 
 And NORA saw and heard no more. 
 

 222 YAMOYDEN. 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 She woke ; the ground was wet with blood, 
 
 Her Indian saviour o'er her stood ; 
 
 Around her she discovered then, 
 
 The faces of her countrymen. 
 
 " Where is my child ?" they answer not ; 
 
 Her dusky guardian's eye she sought ; 
 
 O'er his high cheek of rugged mould, 
 
 The moon-beam glistened, clear and cold ; 
 
 A crystal tear was starting bright, 
 
 And glittering with the pale, pure light ; 
 
 " Where is my child ? in mercy, say ?" 
 
 He pointed to the expanding bay ; 
 
 There was no speck on its azure sheet, 
 
 No trace in the waters smooth and fleet, 
 
 As if furrowing keel had ploughed them never, 
 
 And she knew her child had gone for ever. 
 
 
YAMOYDEN. 
 
 CANTO THIRD. 
 
 BRIGHT as the bird whom Indian legends sing, 
 Whose glance was lightning, and whose eye was flame, 
 The deep- voiced thunder trembling in his wing, 
 When from the ocean earth emerging came ; 
 Fair freedom soars with wing and glance the same, 
 And calls, from depths profound and cheerless waste, 
 The quickening spark that fires the burning frame, 
 Glows deathless in the patriot's ardent breast, 
 Where loud the thunders speak, where lie her sons oppressed. 
 
 O who hath ever from her buoyant air 
 Drank vigorous life beneath her wings outspread, 
 And would not that the scenes of nature fair 
 Lay rather like the desert seared and dead, 
 Than see the spirit that inspired them fled, 
 Quenched the bright lightnings of her awful eye ; 
 Hope, valour, crushed beneath oppression's tread, 
 And o'er the darkening scene of death descry 
 How stern destruction holds her drear ascendency. 
 
 Hearts that loved freedom came, away to tear 
 From fellow-men that birthright which they bless'd ; 
 And they, to whom religion's cause was dear, 
 Fanned the unholy passion in their breast ; 
 
224 YAMOYDEN. 
 
 The persecuted sought on the oppressed 
 To trample ; bared the exterminating sword, 
 Above their victim's last, defenceless rest ; 
 Yea, self-deluded, loud their cries they pour'd 
 For aid, to HIM, the God of peace, whom they adored. 
 
 I. 
 
 While hot pursuit a moment failed, 
 The victor host their council held ; 
 Tho' boastful hope had vaunted sure 
 Their victim and his band secure, 
 Yet varied tale and rumours dark 
 Misled them from their destined mark 5 
 And on Pocasset's winding shore, 
 Awhile they gave the hunting o'er, 
 And on the island now they rest, 
 Which blooms o'er ocean's placid breast, 
 In its bright emerald livery dress'd, 
 
 The garden of the deep ; 
 They heeded not its verdant bowers, 
 Its peaceful groves and myriad flowers, 
 Snatching a few uncertain hours, 
 
 * Their council stern to keep. 
 But few were met ; their scouts afar 
 Pursued the scent of failing war ; 
 While here in anxious doubt they stay, 
 
 Thus rose the supplicating lay. 
 
 ; ', . 
 
 II. 
 
 WAR HYMN. 
 1. 
 
 O THOU ! for whom in the heavens high 
 
 Seraphim embattled fly ! 
 
 Before us be thy banner spread 
 
 Like the pillar of fire which thy people led \ 
 
YAMOYDEN. 
 
 2. 
 
 225 
 
 Almighty Conqueror ! to thee we cry ; 
 
 Gird thy bright falchion on thy thigh ; 
 
 Let all creation's trembling arch 
 
 Proclaim our God's victorious march ! 
 . 3. 
 
 King of all kings ! to thee belongs 
 
 To inspire our weak and mortal songs ; 
 
 Hear the strains thy Spirit taught 
 
 Through HIM that our ransom from death hath bought. 
 
 4. 
 
 May we break on the foe, -to blaspheme thee who dared, 
 With the sword of thy righteousness, -whetted and bared, 
 As burst, when their fountains are broken, -the floods, 
 As the storm when it tears, up the pride of the woods. 
 
 5. 
 
 They shall fade like the smoke which is lost in the air, 
 They shall melt from thy wrath when its fury shall glare ; 
 Unblenched shall we track th6m, through wild flowing war. 
 By the light of our battle, thy conquering star ! 
 
 III. 
 
 Ceased the deep strain. On every brow 
 Sat exultation's crimson glow ; 
 And every bosom beat, as high 
 Swelled the loud anthem to the sky. 
 They felt, as if on promised land, 
 
 Like Israel's guided host, 
 They followed heaven's directing hand. 
 
 To every isle and coast ; 
 They felt as if his word had bade 
 Their ranks unsheath the glittering blade, 
 Whose high command to JOSHUA given 
 Led Jacob to his earthly heaven ! 
 No throb was there of pity's mood, 
 For native of the solitude ; 
 VOL. i. F F 
 
. 
 
 YAMOYDEJV. 
 
 Doomed to the carnage of the sword 
 They deemed the country and its lord ; 
 And bigot zeal, to bosoms brave, 
 The callous thirst of slaughter gave. 
 On each flushed cheek, and glistening eye, 
 The glowing fever revelled high ; 
 While fancy's fixed, unbounded gaze 
 Almost beheld the. Godhead's blaze ; *> :' 
 As upwards, in ecstatic trance, 
 Beamed on the azure heaven- their glance. 
 Awhile they stood. No word was spok< 
 Deep was that silence, and unbroken 
 Even the dark water's hollow roar 
 Was hushed upon the rocky shore, 
 The wood- wind's music clear and shrill 
 Amid that solemn pause was still ; 
 Till, with one sudden burst again 
 Arose the animating strain. 
 
 HYMN. 
 1. 
 
 Lift up thy banner, Lord, afar,,- 
 
 Arrayed in robes of dazzling light ! 
 Arise, O Conqueror, to the war, 
 
 In all the glories of thy might ! 
 
 2. 
 For who is God, save Thou, and where 
 
 Shall man find safety but in Thee ? 
 Thy strength shall aid, thy kindly care 
 
 Preserve in blest security. 
 
 3. 
 The God of armies on our side 
 
 Ham waged his warfare, and q'ercome 
 And he shall be our stay and guide, 
 
 Our hope, our refuge, and our home. 
 
YAMOYDEN. 
 
 4. 
 
 High as the heavens,. to God again 
 Lift then the song that tells his praise ; 
 
 And earth prolong the solemn strain, 
 And angels tune their golden lays. 
 
 y. 
 
 As dies, far heard along the shore, 
 The ocean's deep and sullen roar ; 
 As down the mountain's rugged brow 
 The failing thunder's echoes flow ; 
 At first, in cadence wild and strong, 
 The notes profpund their voice prolong, 
 Till, rolling far, they part and die,' 
 Tho' still unquenched their majesty ; 
 So hushed the strain ; so sunk away 
 The Christian warriors' ardent lay ; 
 So far the mighty echoes flow, 
 The Indian, in his light canoe, 
 E'en at Seaco net's troubled wave, : *! 
 Felt terror shake his bosom brave ; 
 And shrunk, within his fragile -boat, 
 To hear that long re-echoed note : 
 Omen of sorrow, deep and dire, 
 Of rending sword, of wasting fire, 
 Of hopes destroyed, of bosoms torn, 
 Of exile, cheerless and forlorn, 
 Of power extinct, and glory gone, 
 And his last boon despair alone. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Fair breathes the morn ; but not -for him 
 Its floods .of golden glory swim, 
 The outcasfwretch forlorn ; 
 There is no sunrise in his breast, 
 He turns him from the kindling east, 
 
 
 

 
 
 
 YAMOYDEN. 
 
 And, like some wandering ghost unbless'd, 
 
 Flies the sweet breath of morn. 
 The sea-gull skims, along the waves, 
 Its snow-white bosom gladly laves : 
 The eagle cleaves the rack, and sails 
 High o'er the clouds and -nether gales ; 
 The red deer heaves his antlers high, 
 Bounding in "tameless transport by ;" > ' 
 But what with them to do hath he? 
 They, like the elements, are -FREE ! 
 And thoughts, than death more dread and deep* 
 Across his mental vision sweep, 
 While only lives the soul for pain, 
 Like vulture tyring on the brain. 
 
 VII. 
 
 Yet to the camp no tidings come 
 Where PHILIP and his followers roam ; 
 
 And, while the scent was cold, 
 The English band that tracked his way. 
 Beneath broad oaks embowering lay, 
 
 And varying converse hold. 
 Small space between them, and the rout 
 Of Indians who had joined the shout, 
 
 That hung on PHILIP'S flight : 
 Mohegans and Seaconets too, 
 A motley band, in numbers few, 
 
 Were gathered for the fight.* 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Amid the Christian corps there stood 
 A gray old man ; the book of God 
 
 * The seven first verses of this canto were transcribed by their author, 
 but a few weeks before his death ; and have been printe'd exactly after his 
 manuscript. 
 
YAMOYDEN. 229 
 
 Was in his hand ;. with holy verse 
 That spoke the ancient heathen's curse, 
 He bless'd the murders they had done, 
 And called on Heaven the Work to crown. 
 As o'er the past their converse turned, 
 His eye with inspiration burned. 
 While thus his speech began to flow, 
 O'er earlier scenes of toils and wo. 
 
 IX. 
 
 " Nor lure of conquest's meteor beam, 
 Nor dazzling mines of fancy's dream, 
 Nor wild adventure's love to roam, 
 Brought from their, father's ancient home, 
 Mid labours, deaths, and dangers toss'd, 
 O'er the wide sea the pilgrim host. 
 They braved the battle and the flood, 
 To worship here their fathers' GOD. 
 With shr-eds of papal vesture tied 
 To flaunting robes of princely pride, 
 In formal state, on sumptuous throne, 
 Daughter of her of Babylon, 
 Sat bigotry. Her chilling breath 
 To fires of heavenly warmth was death 5 
 Her iron- sceptre England- swayed, 
 Religion withering in its shade. 
 The shepherd might not kneel to call 
 On Him, the common sire of all, 
 Unless his lips, with harsh constraint, 
 Were tuned to accents cold and faint ; 
 For man's devices had o'erwrought 
 The volume by a Saviour bought; 
 And clogged devotion's soaring wing 
 That up to- heaven should instant spring, 
 With phrases set, that bore no part 
 In the warm service of the heart. 
 
230 YAMOYDEN. 
 
 But why recount their sorrows past, 
 From the first martyr to the last ? 
 Or pope's, or bishop's bigot zeal, 
 Alike their hate of Christian weal ; 
 Or torture's pangs and fagot's flame, 
 Or fines and exile, 'twas the same, 
 Same antichrist, whom prophets old 
 With sad announcing voice foretold ! 
 
 V 
 
 A. 
 
 " Such were the wrongs that cried to heaven, 
 What time shall see those wrongs forgiven ! 
 O ENGLAND ! from thine earliest, age, 
 Land of the warrior and the sage \ 
 Eyrie of freedom reared on rocks 
 That frown o'er ancient ocean's shocks ! 
 Cradle of art ! religion's fane, ! 
 Whose incense ne'er aspired in vain ! 
 Temple of laws that shall not die, 
 When brass and marble crumbled lie ! 
 Parent of bards whose harps rehearse 
 Immortal deeds in deathless verse ! 
 O ENGLAND ! can thy pride forget 
 Thy soil with martyrs' blood is wet ? 
 Bethink thee, like the plagues which sleep 
 In earth's dark bosom buried deep, 
 As the poor savage .deems, thai o'er 
 Thine head, the vials yet in store, 
 
 Vials of righteous wrath must pour ! 
 
 t 
 
 XI. 
 
 " Strong was the love to heaven Which bare 
 From their dear homes and altars far, 
 The old, the young, the wise, the brave, 
 The rich, the noble -arid the fair, 
 And led them, o'er the mighty wave, 
 Uncertain peril's front to dare. 
 
YAMOYDEN. 
 
 Strong was their love ; and strong the Power 
 
 Whose red right arm, in danger's hour, 
 
 Was bared on high their path to show,. 
 
 Through changeful scenes of weal and wo ; 
 
 By signs and wonders, as of old, 
 
 When Israel journeyed through the waste, 
 
 Was its mysterious guidance told ; 
 
 Though lightnings flashed, and thunders rolled, 
 
 The sunbeam glorious smiled at last. 
 
 XII. 
 
 " How oft the storm their barks delayed,. 
 How oft their prows they turned dismayed j 
 How oft his wings above their head- 
 The death-announcing angel spread ; 
 While the chill pestilential gale 
 Sung in the shrouds and shrinking sail I 
 They came-; upon the soil they trod, 
 Where they might worship Nature's God ; 
 But not, as erst from Pisgah's height, 
 Burst on the patriarch's aching sight 
 The promised realms of life and light, 
 Rose on their view the land they sought, 
 By exile, want, and misery bought. 
 
 XIII, 
 
 ^^^ 
 
 " Blazing o'er heaven with sickly flame, 
 A meteor fierce their herald came ; 
 Plagues filled with death the tainted air, 
 To yield the pilgrims entrance there. 
 A golgotha of sculls was spread 
 O'er" all the land beneath their tread : 
 For backward flew the savage race, 
 To give the new intruders space ; 
 Expected now their wilds among, 
 Foretold by captive's prophet tongue. 
 
232 YAMOYDEN. 
 
 In dismal depths of swampy dell 
 Their Powahs met with purpose fell, > 
 With haggard eye, and howls of ire, . ' 
 They called on famine, sword, and fire, 
 To fill the air with Christian groans, 
 And whiten earth with Christian bones. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 " God heard their blasphemy. Though hot 
 By spell of theirs was ruin wrought, 
 For wisest ends, from man concealed, 
 The Indian curse was half fulfilled* 
 Gaunt famine came ; with ghastly train 
 Of all the screaming fiends of pain, 
 He stalked o'er forest, hill, and plain ; 
 On herb and tree his mildew dealt, 
 And man and beast the syroc felt. 
 Long fed they on the withering roots, 
 Wild berries and the forest fruits ; 
 With what the barren ocean, flung, 
 From its vast womb their rocks among j 
 Until their numbers grow too weak, 
 Such scanty sustenance to seek. 
 Then fled the rose from beauty's cheek ; 
 Then the last spark cold age that fired, 
 Gleamed in its socket and expired ; 
 Then youth unripe its stem forsook ; 
 Untimely blasts the sapling shook ; 
 Then manhood's sterner sinews bowed ; 
 Till death sat scowling o'er the crowd 
 None left to lay, with pious pains, 
 In decent earth their cold remains. 
 The heaven was brass above their head j 
 The earth was iron 'neath their tread ; 
 Then from its surface cracked and dry, 
 Egypt's worst pests their fears espy ; 
 
YAMOYDEN. 233 
 
 Crawled forth the myriad insect host, 
 
 With shrilly wings o'er all the coast ; 
 
 The coming plagues their swarms declared, 
 
 Disease destroyed whom death had spared. 
 
 Sore were their trials ; oft their toil 
 
 Was vainly spent on steril soil ; 
 
 Oft blazed their roofs with raging flame ; 
 
 And oft the fierce tornado came, 
 
 And in its whelming fury ran 
 
 O'er all the works of God and man : 
 
 The tall pine like a wand it broke, 
 
 Plucked from its roots the giant oak, 
 
 Made all its mighty fibres writhe, 
 
 And whirled and wound it like a withe. 
 
 XV. 
 
 *' Yet mark the all-preserving care, 
 When helpless, faint, and sick they were, 
 And when the heathen might have trod 
 In dust and death the church of God, 
 A mortal terror o'er them came, 
 Withheld the sword and wasting flame ; 
 And dread and reverence like a spell 
 On their unholy purpose fell. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 " Such were their changeful woes for years 
 
 Of toils and doubts, and hopes and fears. 
 
 Yet still before the freshening gale 
 
 New pilgrims bade their canvass swell ; 
 
 And he who whilome walked the sea, 
 
 The turbid waves of Galilee, 
 
 Lit the vast deep with heavenly ray, 
 
 And bade the waters yield them way ; 
 
 Till in the wilderness arose 
 
 His church triumphant o'er her foes. 
 
 VOL. I. G O 
 
 
234 YAHOYDEN. 
 
 O'er heathen rage, and lips profane, 
 
 That mocked the sufferers' mortal pain, 
 
 When in their agonies they cried 
 
 On CHRIST to save their souls, and died ; 
 
 O'er daring sin, that strove to rear 
 
 The shrine of Dagon, even here ; 
 
 O'er damning error's secret wiles, 
 
 Prolific schism's delusive toils : > 
 
 O'er pagan and apostate foes, 
 
 The church of God triumphant rose. 
 
 Till now, o'er wilds where murder swayed, 
 
 Her branches cast their sacred shade, 
 
 Springing with instant growth to heaven, 
 
 Like the blest gourd to JONAH given. 
 
 Wo to the worm, whate'er it be, 
 
 Whose tooth corrodes that goodly tree ! 
 
 If e'er the thirst for novel lore, 
 
 Half learn'd pretension's shallow store. 
 
 Or foul design, with secret blow 
 
 To lay the goodly structure low, 
 
 Corrupt the sacred faith we own> 
 
 Or pluck from CHRIST the GODHEAD'S crown. 
 
 Then shall the Indian curse yet fall 
 
 In whelming fury on them all ! 
 
 Ruin and havoc shall again 
 
 Destroy their homes and blight their plain ! 
 
 To after ages shall they be 
 
 A proverb for their infamy 1 
 
 XVII. 
 
 " The hour is come ; the pagan host 
 Scattered, dissolves like morning frost. 
 The hour is come, when we shall tread 
 In dust the writhing serpent's head. 
 What mercy shall to him be shown 
 Who weds eternal hate alone 1 
 
YAMOYDENr 235 
 
 Revenge his god to murder led, 
 For this he woos e'en Christian aid ; 
 When wreaked his wrath, he turns to dart 
 His sting into his patron's heart. 
 For this, on Moloch's streaming pyre, 
 He gives his children to the fire. 
 For this in torture he will die, 
 Smiling through all his agony ; 
 Till, in its horrid transport lost, 
 To Tophet flies the howling ghost ! 
 Thus saith the Lord fear not their spite, 
 The outcast heathen's power to harm ; 
 Against my people, in my sight, 
 They shall not raise the murderous arm. 
 His works in latter days proclaim 
 From age to age his power the same ; 
 Even as of old when JOSHUA'S word 
 The lights of heaven obedient heard ; 
 O'er Gibeon's towers the lingering ray 
 Prolonged the unwonted blaze of day ; 
 While hung the moon with crescent pale, 
 O'er Ajalon's undarkened vale," 
 
 XVIIL 
 
 Thus ran the preacher's theme ; and long 
 Dwelt on his words the listening throng ; 
 Recounting portents far and near 
 On rumour's gales inconstant driven, 
 Whence superstition's greedy ear 
 Drank in the immediate voice of heaven. 
 They talked of that polluted night 
 That saw the heathen's damning rite ; 
 By God forsaken, when their spell 
 Conjured in aid the Prince of Hell : 
 When groans of tortured martyrs blended 
 With yells of furious joy ascended ; 
 
236 YAMOYDEN. 
 
 When, while the sacrifice was screaming, 
 The hot, baked earth was wet and steaming, 
 As drop by drop it caught the blood 
 Of saints, whose latest prayer to God 
 
 In blasphemy was drowned. 
 Since then the savage crest was bowed, 
 Sunk was their spirit stern and proud, 
 Nor more was heard their war-cry loud, 
 
 Through echoing groves to sound. 
 But judgment with destruction fraught, 
 Hung o'er their heads, where'er they sought 
 
 Escape from tempests round, 
 As broke the clouds of thunder o'er 
 
 The routed Amorites of yore. 
 Then talked they of the sign beheld 
 By their advancing troop, 
 
 When through their borders first was yelled 
 The death-announcing whoop ; 
 
 When at the midnight's ghostly noon, 
 
 A crimson scar deformed the moon : 
 
 Like Indian scalp the shape it had ; 
 
 And, while they gazed, the planet bright 
 
 Plunged into earth's o'erwhelming shade, 
 
 And veiled her silver orb in night. 
 
 From thence with awe had holy lips 
 
 Presaged the foe's more dark eclipse. 
 
 Nor this alone portended war ; 
 
 Through the clear aether heard afar, 
 
 Strange sounds were pealed with deafening din, 
 
 As from the mouth of culverin ; 
 
 As if aerial hosts on high 
 
 Waged strife sublime for victory. 
 
 And whizzing balls with musket knell 
 
 Like wintry hail descending fell ; 
 And o'er them martial music pass'd, 
 
 With rolling drum and clarion blast ; 
 
YAMOYDEN. 
 
 And trampling steeds, with thunder shod, 
 O'er heaven's rebounding arches trod. 
 They talked of God's immediate hand 
 Outstretched above the suffering land ; 
 Of timely rains that often came, 
 To quench the fiercely conquering flame, 
 That wrapt their homes in helpless hour 
 They spoke and bless'd the saving power. 
 And long, to while the hours away, 
 They talk of many a former day ; 
 Of native hill and peaceful plain, 
 Far o'er the wild and severing main ; 
 While some with anxious speech prepare 
 The future councils of the war. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 Upon a hillock's tufted breast, 
 Holding no converse with the rest, 
 
 An aged man there sate ; 
 Care seemed enstamped upon his front 
 As if he had endured the brunt 
 
 Of long and adverse fate. 
 Scarce sixty winters' snows were spread 
 Upon his venerable head ; 
 And still within his full gray eye 
 There was a tameless energy, 
 That told a heart inured to bear 
 Each form of wo without despair, 
 And stands aloof, unchilled by sorrow, 
 No cheer from earthly hope to borrow. 
 Religion's promise in his view 
 Was fixed, and he believes it true j 
 Star of his soul ! in glory beaming, 
 A light worth all earth's sweetest dreaming ! 
 As many a busy murmur fell 
 
 On his scarce conscious ear, 
 
 237 
 
238 YAMOYDEN. 
 
 At times to memory, audible, 
 
 They told of vanished scenes too well 
 
 Remembered, and too dear. 
 Still at some half-caught sentence rose 
 The troublous image of his woes ; 
 He heard them speak of distant land, 
 And memory with obtrusive hand 
 
 Would point his vision there ; 
 He heard them tell of tender ties, 
 And the full tide of agonies 
 Rushed o'er his soul left sad and lone ; 
 A deep, involuntary groan 
 
 The inward conflict told ; 
 It was so strange for him to show, 
 Such outward sign of secret wo, 
 That silence followed straight, profound, 
 As if at supernatural sound ; 
 And every speaker's eye around 
 
 Turned on that warrior old. 
 Oft had they longed in vain to hear 
 That ancient man of life austere, 
 
 His trials dark relate ; 
 For his stern mien, his sadness mix'd 
 With lines of wo subdued, had fix'd 
 
 Their interest on his fate : 
 But sorrow's sacred mystery 
 Can reverential sympathy 
 
 In every heart create ; 
 That long-drawn sigh, that burst unchecked, 
 Appeared to break the spell respect 
 Had thrown around his fortunes wrecked, 
 
 Lone misery's robe of state ! 
 And they besought him to disclose, 
 At large, the story of his woes. 
 
YAMOYDEN. 
 
 XX. 
 
 It seemed that feeling's bursting tide 
 Had half overborne the silent pride 
 That barred communion with its pain, 
 And made the wish to comfort vain. 
 A struggle passed, intense and brief, 
 While thus began his tale of grief. . 
 "Dark even in youth the orphan's fate, 
 But youth is ne'er quite desolate ; 
 Its tears revive with moisture sweet, 
 The wild flowers springing at its feet ; 
 And round in goodly prospect rise 
 Green, smooth ascents, and cloudless skies." 
 For who, when fancy warm and young, 
 Depicts the future's dazzling scope, 
 Lists not the charmer's syren tongue, 
 Owns not the power of suasive hope ? 
 Would that in after years of grief, 
 I could have felt the sadness brief 
 
 That infancy bestows ! 
 Would that my heart by madness wrung, 
 To hope's sweet comfort could have clung, 
 
 Amid severer woes ! , 
 
 But rolling years of varied sorrow, 
 Have bade me naught from hope to borrow ; 
 Far is her flight, and strong her wing, 
 And eagle-like her foot will cling, 
 Above the storm, to cliffs that raise 
 Their fronts to catch the solar blaze. 
 Yet lives she not amid the skies, 
 Like eastern birds of Paradise, 
 Whose feed in fragrant air is given, 
 Who quaff the balmy dews of heaven ; 
 Deserted on her eyry high, 
 Her bosom faints, and fails her eye, 
 And hope herself unfed will die. 
 
 389 
 
240 YAMOYDEN. 
 
 Who follows not the torch of hope, 
 Shall in no future darkness grope ; 
 Who builds not on her promise fair, 
 Needs fear no earthquake of despair* 
 
 XXI. 
 
 " I had a brother whom I loved, 
 The only kindred death had left ; 
 And wo our mutual friendship proved, 
 Of those who cherished us bereft. 
 I loved him and he clung to me, 
 Though nearly young and weak as he ; 
 For friends were cold ; and coldness made 
 Us seek each other's feeble aid. 
 And oft together would we mourn 
 CXer days that never could return ; 
 We wept for those whom memory still 
 Would to our youthful hearts reveal ; 
 We wandered to their sepulchre, 
 For all we loved WAS resting there : 
 Where oft till midnight we would stay, 
 And watch, and weep again, and pray ; 
 Till seemed in our young bosoms shed, 
 A fellow-feeling with the dead. 
 
 XXII. 
 
 " We parted, when a venturous band 
 In quest of wealth, to foreign land, 
 
 The aspiring Edward drew ; 
 'Twas with a deep, foreboding gloom 
 Beside our parents' sacred tomb, 
 
 We spoke our last adieu. 
 And tidings rare and far between, 
 Told where the wanderer's steps had been ; 
 Till silence o'er his fate was spread, 
 And when long years had come and fled, 
 I deemed him numbered with the dead. 
 
YAMOYDEN. 241 
 
 But now, to blast the realm's repose, 
 
 The banner dark of discord rose, 
 
 And friends became each other's foes v 01 
 
 In that unnatural war : 
 My soul was young, untutored then, 
 In all the evil ways of men ; 
 And liberty's insulted name, 
 Set all my bosom in a flame, 
 
 The glorious strife to share. 
 The infant's inexperienced sight 
 Of distance cannot judge aright ; 
 And youthful dreams will still deceive, 
 And youthful bosoms still believe, 
 
 When passion has the sway : 
 Alas ! that time can but disclose 
 The snares that trap the soul's repose, 
 
 In youth's misguided day ! 
 When wisdom learns too late to shun 
 The snares by which we were undone, 
 
 In age's dim decay. 
 
 osv 1 :^ f:*~ v^fcjsw ijs icA? 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 " Grand, but delusive, is the dream, 
 
 When dazzling rays of glory seem, 
 
 With light celestial, to illume 
 
 The burnished crest, and dancing plume ; 
 
 When angel tones are heard to fill 
 
 The trump's inspiring clamours shrill ; 
 
 When the mailed host, in stern array, 
 
 Rolls onward with resistless sway ; 
 
 While with one pulse each heart beats high, 
 
 One sacred fire in every eye, 
 
 And one the unbroken battle cry, 
 
 * For conscience and for liberty !' 
 
 The cause for which I fought and bled, 
 
 Is dear, though all its hopes have fled, 
 
 VOL. I. HH 
 
242 YAMOYDEtf. 
 
 Fled from our country's ark, to trace 
 In western wilds a resting-place, 
 Where yet, in solemn groves, the soul 
 Communes with heaven without control, 
 And, like the patriarch in the wood, 
 Invokes the everlasting God ! 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 " It boots not now with pains to tell 
 Of all that in that war befell ; 
 How king and state with various chance- 
 Encountered each the other's lance ; 
 How, bleeding fresh from every pore, 
 Our country weltered in her gore ; 
 While every breeze that swept the sky 
 Told but of war's wild revelry ; 
 When even the brother had imbrued 
 His hands amid his brother's blood ; 
 The parent wept no more his son, 
 In that disastrous strife undone ; 
 For all was hostile ; all arose 
 To fill the cup of England's woes. 
 
 XXV. 
 
 " It was on Naseby's fatal plain 
 Our host was marshalled once again ; 
 And, on their common soil, for blood 
 The kindred ranks impatient stood. 
 While CHARLES and RUPERT on the right 
 In triumph brief maintained the fight, 
 I followed CROMWELL'S sage command, 
 Where LANG DALE led his loyal band, 
 And vainly strove to check the tide 
 That all his vigilance defied. 
 Routed and broken as he flew, 
 More wide the scattering slaughter grew. 
 
YAMOYDEN. 243 .^ 
 
 I marked a gallant warrior long 
 
 At bay restrain the impetuous throng ; 
 
 Fierce fell the flashes, of his blade, 
 
 Like lightning on the foeman's head ; 
 
 And death was dealt in every wound, 
 
 Till parted his assailants round ; 
 
 I marked him, where alone, amain 
 
 His courser scoured the encumbered plain : 
 
 Filled with the fury of the day, 
 
 I followed reckless on his way ; 
 
 Fainter and faltering in their course, 
 
 The blood-drops fell from knight and horse ; 
 
 He turned, as my descending sword 
 
 Through the reft mail his bosom gored, 
 
 Then sunk, his fleeting vigour gone ; 
 
 The staggering steed rushed blindly on ; 
 
 God ! as round my victim gazed, 
 His eye with death's dull amel glazed, 
 
 1 saw my brother in my foe J 
 
 And he his murderer seemed to know 
 For pardon lingered in his eye, 
 As death's drear shadow flitted by ; 
 His lips essaying seemed to sever, 
 But quivering vainly, closed for ever ! 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 " No more with martial zeal inspired, 
 
 To a lone valley I retired, 
 
 To spend what yet remained of years 
 
 In penitential thoughts and tears : 
 
 But sadness came as horror pass'd, 
 
 New objects charmed my soul at last, 
 
 And from my wounded core anew 
 
 A scion green of promise grew. 
 
 I loved was bless'd 'tis briefly said 
 
 As swift those blissful moments fled : 
 
244 YAMOYDEN. 
 
 The angel partner who had smiled 
 On my lone path, through deserts wild, 
 And led to earth's sole paradise, 
 Was wrapp'd to her congenial skies. 
 
 f4**;ivw n>/o B'i j|t -.77 rUuob bnA 
 XXVII. 
 
 " One pledge she left ; I could not brook 
 Longer upon those scenes to look, 
 Where ghosts of pain or pleasure past 
 Started, where'er my glance was cast. 
 I bore my daughter o'er the flood, 
 Trembling at ocean's wild alarms, 
 Just blooming into womanhood, 
 And ripe in all her mother's charms. 
 Ye know the rest ; an Indian sought 
 Ere long our newly rising cot : 
 It seemed the friendship which he bare 
 The white man's race had led him there, 
 With strong desire their love to learn, 
 And Christian usages discern. 
 He showed what soil would bear the grain, 
 What best our scanty herds sustain ; 
 For he had learn'd to speak our tongue, 
 And he would listen, fixed and tang, 
 When of sublimer themes I spoke, 
 Revealed in inspiration's book ; 
 Unfolding thence the wondrous plan 
 Of all that God had done for man. 
 By converse oft, and frequent view, 
 Almost as one of us he grew ; 
 Yet liked I not sometimes to hear 
 How he would win my NORA'S ear, 
 With legends of his tawny race, 
 And feats that Nipnet annals grace. 
 
YAMOYDEN. 
 
 245 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 " In sooth his form was free and bold, 
 
 And cast in nature's noblest mould ; 
 
 His martial head full lightly bore 
 
 The many^tinctured plumes he wore ; 
 
 His glossy locks beneath their band 
 
 Were clipp'd with no unskilful hand ; 
 
 His polished limbs unseamed with scars, 
 
 And wonted stains of Indian wars 
 
 And well the robe we gave became 
 
 With graceful fold his goodly frame. 
 
 Frank was his speech ; but ne'er would rove, 
 
 Tutored by cunning, or by love, 
 
 To themes for woman's ear unfit : 
 
 And NORA listening long would sit, 
 
 By words and signs while he expressed 
 
 Creation's wonders in the west ; 
 
 Or told of foughten field ; or showed 
 
 Through woods and wolds the hunter's road ; 
 
 How plain, and swamp, and forest through, 
 
 They chased the mighty buffalo ; 
 
 Or winged the unerring arrow, where 
 
 High coiling in his leafy lair, 
 
 They saw the panther's eyeballs glare. 
 
 Of ambush base and torture fell, 
 
 Of midnight fire and murderous yell, 
 
 Of blood-stained rites and league with hell, 
 
 The treacherous spoiler did not tell ! 
 
 And she would ask to hear again 
 
 The feats of wild and martial men ; 
 
 Or told in turn what art had done, 
 
 In lands beyond the rising sun ; 
 
 Of those vast hives of human .homes ; 
 
 Proud palaces and glittering domes ; 
 
 Of loaded quays, and sails that bear 
 
 From all the globe their tribute there ; 
 
246 
 
 YAMOYDEX. 
 
 
 Of armies in their panoply, 
 
 And floating bulwarks on the sea. 
 
 Yet little marvelled he, at all 
 
 The pomp her memory could recall, 
 
 But better was she pleased, to tell 
 
 Of her own loved and pastoral vale, 
 
 Its sheltering hills, and banks of green, 
 
 Of childhood's gladsome pranks the scene. 
 
 Then rapt, his ear he would incline, 
 
 As if some seraph's voice divine 
 
 Brought tidings from those opal fields 
 
 Which autumn's sun, descending, gilds. 
 
 I should have looked to see as soon 
 
 The uncaverned wolf in frolics boon, 
 
 With bounding fawn unfeared agree, 
 
 As that between them love should be. 
 
 But I abhorred such converse vain, 
 
 And checked the Pagan's speech profane. 
 
 I chided and forbade. Alas ! 
 
 Too late to save my child it was. 
 
 Perchance, too long alone she strayed, 
 
 In her young hours, within the shade 
 
 Of those blest scenes where life began, 
 
 Far from the busy haunts of man. 
 
 For sinful phantasy still loves 
 
 To people mountains, caves, and groves ; 
 
 By whispering leaves and murmuring rill, 
 
 The tempter speaks, when all is still, 
 
 And phantoms in the brain will raise, 
 
 That haunt the paths of after days. 
 
 Weeds o'er the uncultured mind will spread, 
 
 As fern from earth's neglected bed. 
 
 Perchance, and I believe it true, 
 
 Of herb and spell the powers he knew ; 
 
 Tutored in their foul juggler's art, 
 
 By fiendish craft he won her heart. 
 
YAMOYDEN. 247 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 " I drove the Pagan forth too late, 
 
 For they at stolen hours had met ; 
 
 Haply, too sternly to my child 
 
 I spoke ; her nature was most mild, 
 
 Her feelings warm, but never wild, 
 
 I trod too rudely on the shoot 
 
 Of that young passion's embryo root ; 
 
 Like the meek chamomile, it grew 
 
 Luxuriant from the bruise anew. 
 
 An English youth her suitor came ; 
 
 I hoped to quench the unholy flame 
 
 The heathen lit, by sacred vows 
 
 Of wedlock with a Christian spouse. 
 
 It did but haste her final doom, 
 
 On one sad night she left her home ; 
 
 She parted, with the tawny chief, 
 
 And left me lonely in my grief. 
 
 Research was vain, though long pursued, 
 
 I sought again my solitude : 
 
 She sowed the winds that madly blew, 
 
 She could but reap the whirlwind too ! 
 
 'Twas cruel, in the stranger's clime, 
 
 Thus from her gray old sire to part, 
 
 And barb the only shaft that time 
 
 Had yet in store to pierce my heart. 
 
 But O, my child ! where'er thou art 
 
 Whether beneath the inclement sky, 
 
 Thy whitened bones unburied lie ; 
 
 Or dead alone in damning sin, 
 
 Thou sharest the apostate's slough unclean, 
 
 This, this the undying source of pain, 
 
 We cannot meet in heaven again ! 
 
 Is it not written * when thy God 
 
 Shall make the nations' realm thine own, 
 
 t .! fctr 
 
248 YAMOYDEN. 
 
 Thou shalt not mingle with their blood, 
 Nor yield thy daughter to his son. 
 For from the path her fathers trod, 
 Her steps to idols will be won 
 And swift destruction's fiery doom 
 The accursed union shall consume 1* " 
 
 Iwn sn< bo'i 
 XXX. 
 
 FITZGERALI) ceased ; and every eye 
 
 Paid tribute to his agony : 
 
 Even hearts were moved, long hardened made* 
 
 By cold, deliberate murder's trade. 
 
 On rough-worn features, stern and rude, 
 
 The glistening tear unwonted stood ; 
 
 As on the gnarled oak's scathed boughs, 
 
 The dew-drop of the morning glows. 
 
 Scarce had he paused, when through the wood, 
 
 Up to the camp, two horsemen rode, 
 
 Wayworn, as if with tidings, bound ; 
 
 And quick, their panting coursers round, 
 
 The troop impatient thronged to hear 
 
 What news they brought of hope or fear. 
 
 Right glad their leader was, to view 
 
 His former comrades, bold and true ; 
 
 And loud the joyous murmurs broke, 
 
 As thus the elder soldier spoke* 
 
 , - .0 Ji!*j 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 "News from the SACHEM ! trapp'd at last* 
 In his own den we hold him fast, 
 An Indian from the rebel fled, 
 Incensed for blood of kindred shed, 
 From Haup's wild fastnesses last night 
 Escaped and beckoning met our sight. 
 Brought from the adverse bank, he told 
 Where now the traitor keeps his hold ; 
 
YAMOYDEN. 249 
 
 And bade us haste, from murderous knife, 
 
 If we would save a Christian's life. 
 
 On secret enterprise, a band 
 
 Had sought by METACOM'S command, 
 
 At eventide, the island shore, 
 
 Its central forests to explore. 
 
 And with them had his friend been sent, 
 
 Who told him of their black intent, 
 
 Some secret foul, which but those few 
 
 Of PHILIP'S trusted followers knew. 
 
 Brief time for rescue was allowed, 
 
 We took what followers chance bestowed ; 
 
 Swift was our journey ; but 'twas yet, 
 
 To intercept the foe too late. 
 
 Just on the bank their band we met, 
 
 And one beneath our instant shot 
 
 Was stretched in death upon the spot* 
 
 The rest in terror o'er the flood, 
 
 Through the dim shades their flight made good. 
 
 Clasped by the friendly Indian there, 
 
 A Christian woman, young and fair, 
 
 Fainted we found ; the Indian's art 
 
 Recalled the life-pulse to her heart, 
 
 The living lustre to her eye, 
 
 Which only gazed on vacancy: 
 
 Her child was gone her cry was vain, 
 
 And feverish madness fir'd her brain j 
 
 On woven boughs and leaves upborne, 
 
 We brought the unconscious dame forlorn. 
 
 Through tangled brake and forest screen 
 
 Long has our toilsome journey been : 
 
 Waste we no more of idle breath, 
 
 But hunt the outlaw to the death 1" 
 
 VOL. I. 1 I 
 
250 YAMOYDEN . 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 Meantime, the oaks* tall columns through, 
 
 The expected band appeared in view ; 
 
 Slow through the glade their steps advance ; 
 
 Locked in. a calm and deathlike trance, 
 
 With them the rescued dame was brought, 
 
 Free from the agonies of thought. 
 
 Near, in an opening of the wood, 
 
 A long-forsaken wigwam stood. 
 
 Its ruins nought but curious quest 
 
 The former haunt of men had guessed ; 
 
 For woven saplings, germing new, 
 
 Thick round the rustic dwellin'g grew. 
 
 The twisted creeper's verdant woof 
 
 O'erspread the boughs, and bearskin tough, 
 
 And birchen bark, its simple roof; 
 
 And wild flowers mid the foliage twine ; 
 
 The many-coated columbine, 
 
 And bittersweet luxuriant sprung, 
 
 Robust and statelier vines among. 
 
 Now from that pyramid of green, 
 
 A curling smoke was rising seen, 
 
 Mid sycamore's overarching screen. 
 
 A transient shelter it became, 
 
 To a poor settler and his dame ; 
 
 Though comfortless such dwelling be, 
 
 'Twas yet the home of liberty. 
 
 Straightway the two Mohegans there 
 
 The litter with its burden bare. 
 
 O'er the fair form, in pitying mood, 
 
 The lowly cabin's inmates stood ; 
 
 They bathed her brow, and raised her head, 
 
 Until again her stupor fled : 
 
 The circling white of her blue eye 
 
 Was stainedVith redly gushing die ; 
 
YAMOYDEN. 251 
 
 Streaks with a storm of anguish past, 
 
 Across its liquid heaven had cast 
 
 Now those bright orbs, with wandering roll, 
 
 Betrayed the twilight of the soul ; 
 
 And now a shriek, on every ear, 
 
 Fell, like lost wretch-'s cry of fear, 
 
 When, toppling from the dizzy steep, 
 
 He sinks into the roaring deep ! 
 
 FITZGERALD heard ihe phrensied cry 
 
 It struck on his bosom suddenly, 
 
 Like a chord's sad sound, when bursting near, 
 
 From a harp whose music was most dear. 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 He rushed to the hut ; with a start he met 
 
 The child he loved too fondly yet ; 
 
 Up springing wildly at the sight, 
 
 Her madness yields to nature's might. 
 
 At first the father would have press'd 
 
 The hapless wanderer tcrhis breast ; 
 
 But sterner thoughts repulsive rose, 
 
 Of all her guilt and all his woes : 
 
 While a drear conflict was begun, 
 
 And nature now, now anger won, 
 
 Pale NORA hid her face to shun 
 
 The glance she dared no longer meet : 
 
 Prostrate and trembling at his feet, 
 
 She only clasped his knees and wept, 
 
 While round her auburn tresses swept : 
 
 She only sighed, in murmurs low, 
 
 " O do not curse me !" " Curse thee ! no ; 
 
 Tho' down the vale of years alone, 
 
 I bear my cross with tottering frame, 
 
 And pangs than death more dread have known, 
 
 Pangs from a daughter's hand that came 
 
 I would not call the eternal wrath, 
 
 To burst o'er thy misguided path ! 
 
 
 
252 YAMOYDEN. 
 
 Though hopeless of forgiveness there, 
 I can but plead with earnest prayer, 
 
 Against its heavier curse : 
 Oh ! I had borne to see thy bloom > 
 Of youth, slow withering o'er its tomb- 
 Had borne to see thy hearse, 
 Hung with the stainless virgin wreath, 
 That told thy purity in death. 
 But thus from heathen's couch defiled, 
 Polluted outcast of the wild 
 I cannot brook to see my child !" 
 " Then, then, I am indeed undone, 
 And light or hope on earth is none ! 
 Here let me die !" " No ! sinful one ! 
 Live ! rising from the gloomier grave 
 Of guilt, no more the tempter's slave. 
 Live ! let thy days in tears be spent, 
 In mental penance deep repent ; 
 Thou art riot fit to die !" he said, 
 And raised the mourner from the ground, 
 And all his gathered sternness fled, 
 When in his arms his child he found. 
 Their tears together blended flow 
 Her crime forgiven, almost forgot, 
 Till severing from her pressure slow, 
 Calmer he left the lonely cot. 
 "NoRA, farewell ! if heaven shall spare 
 Thy sire, his home thou still shalt share ; 
 But if in this uncertain strife, 
 An Indian ball destroy my life, 
 Christians, I know, my child will save ; 
 And, when I moulder in the grave, 
 Remember that thy sire forgave." 
 He left her, but his parting word 
 His shuddering daughter had not heard ; 
 On adverse sides her only thought 
 Her father and her husband fought. 
 
YAMOYDEN. 253 
 
 XXXIV. 
 
 Counsel meantime the soldiers hold 
 
 The Indian there his injury told ; 
 
 He said AHAUTON was his name, 
 
 And of Mohegan line he came ; 
 
 Told how the death of AGAMOUN 
 
 A brother's vengeance must atone ; 
 
 And how to dust by sorrow borne, 
 
 By pain, defeat, and famine worn, 
 
 The wily SACHEM could not hope 
 
 Much longer with his foes to cope. 
 
 Tho' fiercely yet of war he -spoke, 
 
 Yet his stout heart was almost broke, 
 
 When last were slain, round Taunton's wave, 
 
 His counsellors and his warriors brave. 
 
 Left now of all his tribe alone, 
 
 The Wampanoags' glory gone' 
 
 His every friend and kinsman dead, 
 
 Soon he must yield His forfeit head. 
 
 XXXV. 
 
 Their eager conference o'er at last, 
 The mandate for the march was pass'd. 
 Swiftly the scanty files withdrew, 
 As shrill the warning bugle blew ; 
 Their arms thro' thickets glittering bright, 
 Before the sun's retiring light, 
 Who, waning from -his central throne, 
 Thro' clouds and forests lurid shone. 
 The rising wind that shook the trees, 
 Or curled the waving of the seas ; 
 The shrieking birds that sped along, 
 Or plunged the rising waves among, 
 Proclaimed by signs distinct and clear, 
 The bursting of a storm was near. 
 As pass'd the eager troop away, 
 FITZGERALD made a brief delay, 
 
* 
 
 254 YAMOYDEN. 
 
 With the Mohegan chief, before 
 He joined the march along the shore. 
 They spoke in low and whispered tone, 
 But, when their earnest speech was done, 
 " Lead thou my steps," the old man cried, 
 " To their foul haunts be thou my- guide, 
 v Heaven bids me mar the rites defiled, 
 And seek and save my daughter's child." 
 
 
-. 
 
 f 
 
 r 
 
 
 YAM'O YDEN. 
 
 CANTO FOURTH. 
 
 As if to battle, o'er the midnight heaven 
 The clouds are hurrying forth : now veiled on high ; 
 Now sallying out, the moon and stars are driven, 
 As wandering doubtful ; in the shifting sky, 
 Mid mazes strange the Dancers seem to fly ; 
 Wildly the unwearied hunters drive the Bear : 
 Through the deep groves is heard a Spirit's cry ; 
 And hark ! what strain unearthly echoes there, 
 Borne fitful from afar, along the troubled air. 
 
 L .,.-,% * : ~ 
 
 TO THE MAN1TTO OF DREAMS. 
 
 I- 
 
 " SPIRIT ! THOU SPIRIT of subtlest air, 
 Whose power is upon the brain, 
 When wondrous shapes, and dread and fair, 
 As the film from the eyes 
 At thy bidding flies, 
 To sight and sense are plain! <,^ ... 
 
 2. 
 
 " Thy whisper creeps where leaves are stirred ; 
 
 Thou sighest in woodland gale ; 
 
 Where waters are gushing thy voice is heard ; 
 
 And when stars are bright, 
 
 At still midnight, 
 
 Thy symphonies prevail ! 
 
256 YAMOYDEJC. 
 
 3. 
 
 " Where the forest ocean, in quick commotion, 
 
 Is waving to and fro, 
 
 Thy form is seen, in the masses green, 
 
 Dimly to come and go. 
 
 From thy covert peeping, where thou layest sleeping, 
 
 Beside the brawling brook, 
 
 Thou art seen to wake, and thy flight to take 
 
 Fleet from thy lonely nook. 
 
 4: 
 
 Where the moonbeam has kiss'd 
 The sparkling tide, 
 In thy mantle of mist 
 Thou art seen to glide. 
 Far o'er the blue waters 
 Melting away, 
 On the distant billow, 
 As on a pillow, 
 Thy form to lay. 
 
 5; 
 
 Where the small clouds of even 
 
 Are wreathing in heaven 
 
 Their garland of roses, 
 
 O'er the purple and gold, 
 
 Whose hangings enfold 
 
 The hall that encloses 
 
 The couch of the sun, 
 
 Whose empire is done, 
 
 There thou art smiling, 
 
 For thy sway is begun ; 
 
 Thy shadowy sway, - 
 
 The senses beguiling, 
 
 When the light fades away* 
 And thy vapour of mystery o'er nature ascending, 
 
 The heaven and the earth, 
 
 The things that have birth, 
 And the embryos that float in the future are blending. 
 
YAMOYDEN. 257 
 
 II. 
 1. 
 
 " From the land, on whose shores the billows break 
 
 The sounding waves of the mighty lake ; 
 
 From the land where boundless meadows be, 
 
 Where the buffalo ranges wild and free ; 
 
 With silvery coat in his little isle, 
 
 Where the beaver plies his ceaseless toil ; 
 
 The land where pigmy forms abide, 
 
 Thou leadest thy train at the eventide ; 
 
 And the wings of the wind are left behind, 
 
 So swift through the pathless air they glide. 
 
 2. 
 
 Then to the chief who has fasted long, 
 When the chains of his slumber are heavy and strong, 
 SPIRIT ! thou comest ; he lies as dead, 
 His weary lids are with heaviness weighed ; 
 But his soul is abroad on the hurricane's pinion, 
 Where foes are met in the rush of fight, 
 In the shadowy world of thy dominion 
 Conquering and slaying, till morning light ! 
 
 3. 
 
 Then shall the hunter who waits for thee, 
 The land of the game rejoicing see ; 
 Through the leafless wood, 
 O'er the frozen flood, 
 And the trackless snows 
 His spirit goes, 
 Along the sheeted plain, 
 Where the hermit bear, in his sullen lair, 
 Keeps his long fast, till the winter hath pass'd, 
 And the boughs have budded again. 
 SPIRIT OF DREAMS ! all thy visions are true, 
 Who the shadow hath seen, he the substance shall view ! 
 VOL. i. K K 
 
258 YAMOYDEN. 
 
 III. 
 1. 
 
 " Thine the riddle, strange and dark, 
 Woven in the dreamy brain : 
 Thine to yield the power to mark 
 Wandering by, the dusky train ; 
 Warrior ghosts for vengeance crying. 
 Scalped on the lost battle's plain, 
 Or who died their foes defying, 
 Slow by lingering tortures slain. 
 
 2. 
 
 Thou the war-chief hovering near, 
 Breathest language on his ear ; 
 When his winged words depart, 
 Swift as arrows to the heart ; 
 When his eye the lightning leaves ; 
 When each valiant bosom heaves ; 
 Through the veins when hot and glowing 
 Rage like liquid fire is flowing ; 
 Round and round the war pole whirling, 
 Furjous when the dancers grow ; 
 When the maces swift are hurling 
 Promised vengeance on the foe ; 
 Thine assurance, SPIRIT true ! 
 Glorious victory gives to view I 
 
 3. 
 
 When of thought and strength despoiled, 
 
 Lies the brave man like a child ; 
 
 When discoloured visions fly, 
 
 Painful, o'er his glazing eye, 
 
 And wishes wild through his darkness rove, 
 
 Like flitting wings through the tangled grove, 
 
 Thine is the wish ; the vision thine, 
 
 And thy visits, SPIRIT ! are all divine ! 
 
YAMOYDEN. 259 
 
 4. 
 
 When the dizzy senses spin, 
 
 And the brain is madly reeling, 
 
 Like the Pow-wah, when first within 
 
 The present spirit feeling ; 
 
 When rays are flashing athwart the gloom, 
 
 Like the dancing lights of the northern heaven, 
 
 When voices strange of tumult come 
 
 On the ear, like the roar of battle driven,-^- 
 
 The Initiate then shall thy wonders see, 
 
 And thy priest, O SPIRIT ! is full of thee ! 
 
 IV. 
 
 " SPIRIT OF DREAMS ! away ! away \ 
 It is thine hour of solemn sway ; 
 And thou art holy ; and our rite 
 Forbids thy presence here to-night. 
 Go light on lids that wake to pain ; 
 Triumphant visions yield again ! 
 If near the Christian's cot thou roam, 
 Tell him the fire has wrapp'd his home : 
 Where the mother lies in peaceful rest, 
 Her infant slumbering on her breast, 
 Tell her the red man hath seized its feet, 
 And against a tree its brains doth beat : 
 Fly to the bride who sleeps alone, 
 Her husband forth for battle gone ; 
 Tell her, at morn, and tell her true, 
 His head on the bough her eyes shall view ; 
 While his limbs shall be the raven's prey : 
 SPIRIT OF DREAMS ! away ! away !" 
 
 V. 
 
 So sung the Initiates, o'er their rite 
 While hung the gloom of circling night. 
 Nor yet the unholy chant must rise, 
 Nor blaze the fire of sacrifice, 
 
260 YAMOYDEN. 
 
 Until beyond yon groves afar, 
 The Bear hath dipp'd his westering car ; 
 And shrouded night, with central sway, 
 Veiled deeds unfit to meet the day. 
 Then rose the PROPHET, on whose eye 
 Past generations had gone by : 
 He saw them fall, as some vast oak, 
 By storms unriven^ by bolts unbroke, 
 Sees all the forest by its side 
 In countless autumns shed its pride ; 
 Marks, gathering still, as years roll on, 
 Winter's sere harvest round it strown ; 
 Yet his gigantic form ascends, 
 Nor to the howling voice of time, 
 One sturdy, veteran sinew bends, 
 JJrect in native grace sublime. 
 The scattered relics of the lock, 
 "Which oft had waved o'er battle shock, 
 In long and silvery lines were spread, 
 Like the white honours o'er the head 
 
 Qf ancient mountain ash ; 
 His large eyes brightly, coldly shone, 
 As if their mortal light was gone 
 
 With clear, unearthly flash ; 
 With strong arms forth outstretched he sprung ; 
 Loose o'er his frame the bearskin hung ; 
 Through every limb quick tremors ran, 
 As, rapt with fate, that aged man 
 His lore oracular began. 
 
 VI. 
 THE PROPHECY. 
 
 O heard ye around the sad moan of the gale, 
 As it sighed o'er the mountain, and shrieked in the vale ? 
 'Tis the voice of the Spirit prophetic, who pass'd ; 
 His mantle of darkness around him is cast ; 
 
YAMOYDEN. 261 
 
 Wild flutters his robe, and the light of his plume 
 Faint glimmers along through the mist and the gloom ; 
 Where the moonbeam is hidden, the shadow hath gone, 
 It has flitted in darkness, that morrow has none ; 
 But my ear drank the sound, and I feel in my breast, 
 What the voice of the Spirit prophetic impressed. 
 O saw ye that gleaming unearthly of light ? 
 Behold where it winds o'er the moor from our sight ! 
 Tis the soul of a warrior who sleeps with the slain; 
 How long shall the slaughtered thus wander in vain? 
 It has pass'd ; through the gloom of the forest it flies, 
 But I feel in my bosom its summons arise. 
 
 VII. 
 
 *' Say, what are the races of perishing men ? 
 They darken earth's surface, and vanish agen ; 
 As the shade o'er the lake's gleaming bosom that flies, 
 With the stir of their wings where the wildfowl arise, 
 That has pass'd, and the sunbeam plays bright as before, 
 So speed generations, remembered no more ; 
 Since earth from the deep, at the voice of the Spirit, 
 Rose green from the waters, with all that inherit 
 Its nature, its changes. The oaks that had stood 
 For ages, lie crumbling at length in the wood. 
 Where now are the race in their might who came forth, 
 To destroy and to waste, from the plains of the north? 
 As the deer through the brake, mid the forests they sped, 
 The tall trees crashed round them ; earth gfpaned with 
 
 their tread ; 
 
 He perished, the Mammoth, in power and in pride, 
 And defying the wrath of YOHEWAH he died ! 
 And say, what is man, that his race should endure, 
 Alone through the changes of nature secure ? 
 Whe*$ now are the giants, the soil who possess'd, 
 When our fathers came down, from the land of the west ? 
 
262 YAMOYDEN. 
 
 The grass o'er their mounds and their fortresses waves, 
 And choked amid weeds are the stones on their graves ; 
 The hunter yet lingers in wonder, where keeps 
 The rock on the mountains the track of their steps ; 
 Nor other memorial remains there, nor trace, 
 Of the proud ALLEGEWI'S invincible race. 
 
 VIIL 
 
 " As their nation was slain by the hands of our sires, 
 Our race, in its turn, from our country expires ! 
 Lo ! e'en like some tree, where a Spirit before 
 Had dwelt, when rich garlands and offerings it bore, 
 But now, half uptorn from its bed in the sands, 
 By the wild waves encroaching, that desolate stands, 
 Despoiled of the pride of its foliage and fruit, 
 While its branches are naked, and bare is its root ; 
 And each surge that returns still is wearing its bed, 
 Till it falls, and the ocean rolls on overhead ; 
 Nor a wreck on the shore, nor a track on the flood, 
 Tells aught of the trunk that so gloriously stood, 
 Even so shall our nations, the children of earth, 
 Return to that bosom that yielded them birth. 
 Ye tribes of the EAGLE, the PANTHER, and WOLF! 
 Deep sunk lie your names in a fathomless gulf! 
 Your war-whoop's last echo has died on the shore ; 
 The smoke of your wigwams is curling no more. 
 Mourn, land of my fathers ! thy children are dead ; 
 Like the mists in the sunbeam, thy warriors have fled ! 
 
 IX. 
 
 " But a Spirit there is, who his presence enshrouds, 
 Enthroned on our hills in his mantle of clouds. 
 He speaks in the whirlwind; the river outpours 
 Its tribute to him, where the cataract roars. 
 His breath is the air we inhale ; and his reign 
 Shall endure till the waters have triumphed again ; 
 
YAMOYDEN. 263 
 
 Till the earth's deep foundation convulsions shall heave, 
 
 And the bosom of darkness its fabric receive ! 
 
 'Tis THE SPIRIT OF FREEtOM ! and ne'er shall our grave 
 
 Be trod by the recreant, or spurned by the slave I 
 
 And lo ! as the vision of years rolls away, 
 
 When our tribes shall have pass'd, and the victor hath 
 
 sway, 
 
 That spirit I mark o'er the war-cloud presiding ; 
 The storm that rolls upward sublime he is guiding; 
 It is bursting in terror ; and choked is the path 
 Of peace, by the ruins it whelms in its wrath. 
 The rivers run blood ; and the war-caldron boils, 
 By the flame of their cities, the blaze of their spoils. 
 Bend, bend from your clouds, and rejoice in the sight, 
 Ye ghosts of the red men ! for freedom they fight ! 
 
 X. 
 
 " Dim visions ! why crowd ye so fast o'er my eyes, 
 In the twilight of days that are yet to arise ? 
 Undefined are the shapes and the masses that sweep, 
 Like the hurricane clouds o'er the face of the deep ; 
 They rise like the waves on the surf-beaten shore, 
 But recede ere they form, to be gazed on no more. 
 Like the swarms of the doves o'er the meads that descend, 
 From the north's frozen regions their course when they 
 
 bend, 
 
 So quick o'er our plains is the multitude's motion ; 
 Still the white sails gleam thick o'er the bosom of ocean ; 
 As the foam of their furrows is lost in the sea, 
 So they melt in one nation, united and free ! 
 
 XL 
 
 " Mourn, land of my fathers ! the red men have pass'd, 
 Like the strown leaves of autumn, dispersed by the 
 blast ! 
 
264 YAMOYDEN. 
 
 Mourn, land of the victor ! a curse shall remain, 
 
 Till appeased in their clime are the ghosts of the slain ! 
 
 Like the plants that by pure hands of virgins alone 
 
 Must be plucked, or their charm and their virtue is gone, 
 
 So the fair fruits of freedom, souls only can taste, 
 
 That are stained by no crime, by no passion debased. 
 
 His nest where the foul bird of avarice hath made, 
 
 The songsters in terror took wing from the shade ; 
 
 And man, if .unclean in his bosom the fire, 
 
 No holier spirits descend to inspire. 
 
 Mourn, land of the victor ! our curse shall remain, 
 
 Till appeased for their wrongs be the souls of the slain !" 
 
 XII. 
 
 He ceased, and sunk exhausted down, 
 Strength, fire, and inspiration gone. 
 The fear-struck savages in vain 
 Await the unfolding voice again. 
 A panic terror o'er them ran, 
 As now their impious task began. 
 Their pyre was reared on stones that fell, 
 What time, their father's legends tell, 
 The avenging Spirit's fiery breath 
 Had poured the withering storm of death 
 Along that field of blood and shame ; 
 Where now, for ages past the same, 
 There grew no blade of cheerful green ; 
 But sere and shivering trees were seen, 
 Blasted, and white with age, to stand, 
 Like spectres on the accursed land. 
 Therewith, meet sacrifice of guilt, 
 Broad and high-reared their pile was built. 
 And now their torch unclean they bear ; 
 Long had they fed it light with care, 
 Stolen, where polluted walls were razed, 
 And purifying flames had blazed. 
 
YAMOYDEN. 265 
 
 XIIL 
 
 Swift o'er the structure climbs the fire ; 
 In serpent course its streams aspire ; 
 Entwined about their crackling prey, 
 Aloft they shoot with spiral way ; 
 Wreathing and flashing fiercely round, 
 Their glittering net was mingling wound 
 O'er all the pile ; but soon they blended ; 
 One mighty volume then ascended, 
 A column dense of mounting flame : 
 Blacker the shrouded heaven became, 
 And like substantial darkness frowned 
 O'er the red atmosphere ; around 
 The sands gave back the unnatural glare ; 
 Lifting their ghostly arms in air, 
 Were seen those trunks all bleak and bare ; 
 At distance rose the giant pine, 
 Kindling, as if by power divine, 
 Of fire a living tree ; 
 
 While, where the circling forests sweep, 
 Each varying hue, or bright or deep, 
 Shone as if raised o'er nature's sleep, 
 By magic's witchery. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 He who had marked the Pow-wahs then, 
 As round the pyre their rites begun, 
 Had deemed it no vision of mortal men, 
 But of souls tormented in endless pain, 
 Who for penance awhile to earth again 
 Had come to the scene where their crime was done. 
 No other robe by the band was worn, 
 Save the girdles rude from the otter torn ; 
 Below, besmeared with sable stain, 
 Above, blood-red was the fiendish train, 
 
 VOL. I. L L 
 
266 YAMOYDEN, 
 
 Save a circle pale around each eye, 
 
 That shone in the glare with a fiery die ; 
 
 While a bird with coal-black wings outspread 
 
 Was the omen of ill on every head. 
 
 And while their serpent tresses wound, 
 
 Unkempt and unconfined around ; 
 
 For unpurified, since their vows, had been 
 
 Those ministe-rs of rites unclean. 
 
 And one there was, round whose limbs was coiled 
 
 The scaly coat of a snake despoiled ; 
 
 The jaws by his cheek that open stood. 
 
 Seemed clogged and dripping yet with blood. 
 
 With a rattling chichicoe he led, 
 
 Or swift, or slow, their measured tread ; 
 
 And wildly flapped, the band among, 
 
 The dusky tuft from hisrstaff that hung ; 
 
 Where the hawk's, the crow's and raven's feather, 
 
 With the bat's foul wings were woven together. 
 
 XV. 
 
 Close by a couch, with mats o'erspread, 
 As if a pall that wrapped the dead, 
 Sat crouching one, who might beseem 
 The goblin crew of a monstrous dream ; 
 For never did earthly creature wear 
 A shape like that recumbent there. 
 No hideous brute that starving sought 
 Some cavern's grisly womb, to rot, 
 Nor squalid want in death forlorn, 
 Hath e'er such haggard semblance borne. 
 A woman once ; but now a thing 
 That seemed perverse to life to cling, 
 To rob the worm of tribute due ; 
 Her limbs no vesture covering, 
 No season's change, nor shame she knew. 
 
YAMOYDEN. 267 
 
 Burnt on her withered breast she bore 
 Strange characters of savage lore ; 
 And gathering up her bony frame, 
 As fiercely raged the mounting flame, 
 Not one proportion equal told 
 Of aught designed in nature's mould. 
 Her yellow eyeballs bright with hate, 
 Rolled in their sunken sockets yet, 
 With sickly glare, as of charnel lamps 
 That glimmer from sepulchral damps. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 And now began the Initiates' dance ; 
 
 Slow they recede, and slow advance ; 
 
 Hand locked in hand, with footsteps slow, 
 
 About the ascending flame they go. 
 
 At first, in solemn movement led, 
 
 A chant low muttered they obeyed ; 
 
 But shrill and quick as the measure grew, 
 
 Whirling about the pyre they flew, 
 
 In a dizzy ring, till their senses reeled, 
 
 And the heavens above them madly wheeled, 
 
 And the earth spun round, with its surface burning, 
 
 Like a thousand fiery circles turning. 
 
 Louder and wilder as waxed the tone, 
 
 They sever, in uncouth postures thrown ; 
 
 They sink, they tower, and crouch and creep, 
 
 High mid the darting fire they leap, 
 
 And with fearful prank and hellish game, 
 
 Disport, as buoyant on the flame. 
 
 Now terror seemed to freeze each heart, 
 
 As tremulous in every part, 
 
 With outstretched arms and wandering eyes, 
 
 They brave aerial enemies, 
 
 And combat with an unseen foe ; 
 
 He seems to strike above, below ; 
 
266 YAMOYDEN, 
 
 Save a circle pale around each eye, 
 
 That shone in the glare with a fiery die ; 
 
 While a bird with coal-black wings outspread 
 
 Was the omen of ill on every head. 
 
 And while their serpent tresses wound, 
 
 Unkempt and unconfined around ; 
 
 For unpurified, since their vows, had been 
 
 Those ministers of rites unclean. 
 
 And one there was, round whose limbs was coiled 
 
 The scaly coat of a snake despoiled; 
 
 The jaws by his cheek that open stood. 
 
 Seemed clogged and dripping yet with blood. 
 
 With a rattling chichicoe he led, 
 
 Or swift, or slow, their measured tread ; 
 
 And wildly flapped, the band among, 
 
 The dusky tuft from hisrstaff that hung ; 
 
 Where the hawk's, the crow's and raven's feather, 
 
 With the bat's foul wings were woven together. 
 
 XV, 
 
 Close by a couch, with mats o'erspread, 
 As if a pall that wrapped the dead, 
 Sat crouching one, who might beseem 
 The goblin crew of a monstrous dream ; 
 For never did earthly creature wear 
 A shape like that recumbent there. 
 No hideous brute that starving sought 
 Some cavern's grisly womb, to rot, 
 Nor squalid want in death forlorn, 
 Hath e'er such haggard semblance borne. 
 A woman once ; but now a thing 
 That seemed perverse to life to cling, 
 To rob the worm of tribute due ; 
 Her limbs no vesture covering, 
 No season's change, nor shame she knew. 
 
YAMOYDEN. 267 
 
 Burnt on her withered breast she bore 
 Strange characters of savage lore ; 
 And gathering up her bony frame, 
 As fiercely raged the mounting flame, 
 Not one proportion equal told 
 Of aught designed in nature's mould. 
 Her yellow eyeballs bright with hate, 
 Rolled in their sunken sockets yet, 
 With sickly glare, as of charnel lamps 
 That glimmer from sepulchral damps. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 And now began the Initiates' dance ; 
 
 Slow they recede, and slow advance ; 
 
 Hand locked in hand, with footsteps slow, 
 
 About the ascending flame they go. 
 
 At first, in solemn movement led, 
 
 A chant low muttered they obeyed ; 
 
 But shrill and quick as the measure grew, 
 
 Whirling about the pyre they flew, 
 
 In a dizzy ring, till their senses reeled, 
 
 And the heavens above them madly wheeled, 
 
 And the earth spun round, with its surface burning, 
 
 Like a thousand fiery circles turning. 
 
 Louder and wilder as waxed the tone, 
 
 They sever, in uncouth postures thrown ; 
 
 They sink, they tower, and crouch and creep, 
 
 High mid the darting fire they leap, 
 
 And with fearful prank and hellish game, 
 
 Disport, as buoyant on the flame. 
 
 Now terror seemed to freeze each heart, 
 
 As tremulous in every part, 
 
 With outstretched arms and wandering eyes, 
 
 They brave aerial enemies, 
 
 And combat with an unseen foe ; 
 
 He seems to strike above, below ; 
 
270 YAMOYDEN. 
 
 XX. 
 
 " Come ye who give power 
 To the curse that is said, 
 And a charm that shall wither 
 To the drops that are shed, 
 On the cheek of the maiden, 
 Who never shall hear 
 The kind name of Mother 
 Saluting her ear ; 
 But sad as the turtle 
 On the bare branch reclining, 
 She shall sit in the desert, 
 Consuming and pining ; 
 With a grief that is silent, 
 Her beauty shall fade, 
 Like a flower nipt untimely, 
 On its stem that is dead. 
 
 XXI. 
 
 " Come ye, who as hawks hover o'er 
 
 The spot where the war-club is lying, 
 
 Defiled with the stain of their gore, 
 
 The foemen to battle defying ; 
 
 On your dusky wings wheeling above, 
 
 Who for vengeance and slaughter come crying ; 
 
 For the scent of the carnage ye love, 
 
 The groans of the wounded and dying. 
 
 XXII. 
 
 " Come ye, who at the sick man's bed, 
 Watch beside his burning head ; 
 When the vaunting juggler tries in vain 
 Charm and fast to sooth his pain, 
 And his fever-balm and herbs applies, 
 Your death watch ye sound till your victim dies. 
 
YAMOYDEN. 271 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 " And ye who delight 
 The soul to affright, 
 When naked and lonely, 
 Her dwelling forsaken, 
 To the country of spirits 
 Her journey is taken ; 
 When the wings of a dove 
 She has borrowed to fly, 
 Ye swoop from above, 
 And around her ye cry : 
 She wanders and lingers 
 In terror and pain, 
 While the souls of her kindred 
 Expect her in vain. 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 " By all the hopes that we forswear ; 
 By the potent rite we here prepare ; 
 By every shriek whose echo falls 
 Around the Spirits' golden walls ; 
 By our eternal league made good ; 
 By all our wrongs and all our blood ; 
 By the red battle-axe uptorn ; 
 By the deep vengeance we have sworn ; 
 By the uprooted trunk of peace, 
 And by the wrath that shall not cease, 
 Where'er ye be, above, below, 
 SPIRITS OF ILL ! we call ye now ! 
 
 XXV. 
 
 " Not beneath the mantle blue 
 Spread below YOHEWAH'S feet ; 
 Not through realms of azure hue, 
 Incense breathing to his seat ; 
 
272 YAMOYDEN. 
 
 Not with fire, by living light 
 Kindled from the orb of glory ; 
 Not with words of sacred might, 
 Taught us in our fathers' story ; 
 Not with odours, fruit or flower, 
 Thee we summon, dreadful Power 1 
 Power of darkness ! Power of ill ! 
 Present in the heart and will, 
 Plotting, despite of faith and trust, 
 Treason, avarice, murder, lust ! 
 From caverns deep of gloom and blood, 
 Attend our call, O serpent god ! 
 Thee we summon by pur rite, 
 HOBAMOQUI ! Power of night ! 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 " Behold the sacrifice ! 
 
 A harmless infant dies, 
 
 To whet thine anger's edge ! 
 
 A Christian woman's pledge, 
 
 Begot by Indian sire, 
 
 Ascends thy midnight pyre. 
 
 For thy friendship, for our wrongs, 
 
 To thee the child belongs." 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 Did the fiend hear and answer make ? 
 Above them loud the thunders break ; 
 The livid lightning's pallid hue 
 Their dusky canopy shone through ; 
 Then tenfold blackness gathering far 
 Presaged the elemental war. 
 While yet in air the descant rung, 
 Upward the listening priestess sprung, 
 
YAMOYDEN. 273 
 
 By instant impulse ; as if yet 
 
 The spirit of her youth survived, 
 
 As if from that lethargic state, 
 
 Quickened by power vouchsafed, she lived. 
 
 She tore the sable mats away, 
 
 And there YAMOYDEN'S infant lay, 
 
 By potent opiates lulled to keep 
 
 The silence of the dreamless sleep, 
 
 O'er which that night should sink ; 
 
 Swathed in the sacrificial vest, 
 
 Its bier the unconscious victim pressed. 
 
 "*-' if '* 
 
 The hag's long, shrivelled fingers clasp 
 
 The babe in their infernal grasp, 
 
 While o'er the fiery brink, 
 
 Rapidly, giddily she hurls 
 
 The child, as her withered form she whirls ; 
 
 And chants, with accents hoarse and strong, 
 
 The last, the dedicating song. 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 SONG OF THE PRIESTESS. 
 
 " The black clouds are moving 
 Athwart the dull moon, 
 The hawks high are roving, 
 The strife shall be soon. 
 Then burst thou deep thunder ! 
 Pour down all ye floods ! 
 Ye flames rive in sunder 
 The pride of the woods ! 
 But O thou ! who guidest 
 The flood and the fire, 
 In lightning who ridest, 
 Directing its ire ; 
 
 VOL. I. M M 
 
274 YAMOYDEN. 
 
 If darker to-morrow 
 
 The wrath of the strife, 
 
 Be the white man's the sorrow, 
 
 And thine be his life ! 
 
 The elk-skin about him, 
 
 The crow skin above, 
 
 To thee we devote him, 
 
 The pledge of mixed love. 
 
 For ever and ever 
 
 The slaves of thy will, 
 
 Let ours be thy favour, 
 
 O SPIRIT OF ILL I" 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 She had not ceased, when on the blast 
 A warning shriek of horror pass'd ; 
 Emerging from the woodland gloom, 
 They saw a form unearthly come. 
 AVhite were its locks, its robes of white, 
 And gleaming through their lurid light, 
 Swift it advanced. The Pow-wahs stood, 
 Palsied amid their rites of blood ; 
 E'en the stern PROPHET feared to trace 
 The awful features of that face, 
 And shrunk, as if towards their flame 
 YOHEWAH'S angry presence came. 
 " 
 
 XXX. 
 
 He grasped the witch by her skinny arm, 
 Her powerless frame confessed the charm ; 
 Before his bright, indignant glance 
 Her eyes were fixed in terror's trance. 
 *' Away," the stranger>,ried, " away ! 
 Votaries of Moloch ! yield your prey f 
 
YAMOYDEIf. 275 
 
 Have ye not heard the wrath on high 
 Speak o'er your foul iniquity 1 
 Know ye not, for such worship fell, 
 Deep yawns the eternal gulf of hell ?" 
 Then, bursting from his dream of fear, 
 To front the intruder rushed the SEER, 
 When straight, o'er all the vaulted heaven, 
 Kindled and streamed the glittering levin ; 
 Pale and discoloured shone below 
 The embers in that general glow, 
 As blind amid the blaze they reel, 
 Rattled and crashed the deafening peal ; 
 And with its voice so long and loud, 
 Fell the burst torrent from the cloud ; 
 It dashed impetuous o'er the pile ; 
 The hissing waters rave and boil ; 
 The smothered fires a moment soar, 
 Spread their swarth glare the forest o'er, 
 Then sink beneath their whelming pall, 
 And total darkness covers all. 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 O many a shriek of horror fell, 
 Amid that darkness terrible, 
 Unlit, save by the lightning's flash, 
 And echoing with the tempest crash 
 Those stifled screams of fear; 
 They deem in every bursting peal 
 The avenging Spirit's rage they feel, 
 And crouching, shuddering hear. 
 While ever and anon ascended 
 The dying PRIESTESS' maddening cry, 
 With muttering curses fearful blended 
 It rose convulsed on high. 
 
276 VAMOYDEN. 
 
 And when their palsying dread was gone, 
 And a dim brand recovered shone, 
 And when they traced by that sad light 
 The scene of their unfinished rite, 
 And many a look uncertain cast, 
 The STRANGER and the CHILD had pass'd. 
 
 
 
 
 
YAMOYDEN. 
 
 CANTO FIFTH. 
 
 'Tis night ; the loud wind through the forest wakes, 
 With sound like ocean's roaring, wild and deep, 
 And in yon gloomy pines strange music makes, 
 Like symphonies unearthly, heard in sleep ; 
 The sobbing waters dash their waves and weep ; 
 Where moans the blast its dreary path along, 
 The bending firs a mournful cadence keep ; 
 And mountain rocks re-echo to the song, 
 As fitful raves the storm, the hills and woods among. 
 
 I. 
 
 What wanderer finds his way to-night, 
 Amid the forest's depth of gloom, 
 Where gleams no ray of lingering light 
 The horrid darkness to illume ; 
 Save where the lightning's dazzling stream 
 Descends with momentary gleam ? 
 O'er his high form and plumed head, 
 The thick and heavy drops were shed ; 
 While round there fell upon his ear 
 Many a sound for doubt and fear ; 
 The wolf's fierce howl at distance heard ; 
 The screaming of each startled bird ; 
 At times the falling forest's crash, 
 Scattered by the rending flash, 
 Mingled with the tempest's wrath, 
 Around that lonely wanderer's path. 
 
278 YAMOYDEN. 
 
 II. 
 
 Across the strait, whose heaving wave, 
 When rising gusts impetuous rave, 
 And gales are sweeping on their way, 
 From isle to isle and bay to bay, 
 Wakes, lashed to foam, with fury strong, 
 To join the chorus of their song, 
 YAMOYDEN sought the island shore, 
 Despite of all the billowy roar ; 
 And onward through the tangled path, 
 Sped heedless to the tempest's wrath. 
 Swifter his cautious footsteps grew, 
 When near, his NORA'S bower he knew. 
 A gleam prolonged of lightning showed 
 The limit of his darksome road ; 
 Pale, but distinct, its lustre played, 
 Lambent along the narrow glade : 
 Where yon old elm its arm extends, 
 That slowly o'er his pathway bends, 
 With solemn gesture, as if meant 
 To warn the wanderer of intent 
 
 Unknown, or danger near, 
 Does fancy's mimic dread portray 
 Amid the boughs a spectre gray, 
 Or is it the boding vision seen, 
 Where murder's secret work has been, 
 
 Oft by the Indian seer ? 
 Ha ! points it to the cottage now ? 
 Fled from his heart the rising glow, 
 And gushing stood upon his brow, 
 
 The damps of awful fear. 
 
 III. 
 
 That moment ceased the tempest's sound, 
 As if its spirits hovering round, 
 

 
 YAMOYDEtf. 279 
 
 Listening the wanderer's tread, 
 Awhile withheld their deafening yell ; 
 And a hushed pause about him fell, 
 The silence of the dead. 
 The thunder was no longer heard ; 
 No breath the dripping forest stirred : 
 There only murmured far away, 
 Solemnly the moaning bay ; 
 The faint sigh of the sinking breeze 
 Rustled amid the farthest trees ; 
 The rain-drops from the loaded spray 
 With sullen plash around him sunk ; 
 Then paused the wanderer on his way ; 
 Bowed to foreboding terror's sway 
 His soul within him shrunk. 
 
 IV. 
 
 The cottage of his hope is near ; 
 
 But came no sound upon his ear; 
 
 No trembling taper twinkled dim, 
 
 To tell of vigils kept for him. 
 
 Perchance she sleeps ; he onward pass'd ; 
 
 The humble roof is gained at last ; 
 
 He paused awhile to listen there, 
 
 'Twas still and solemn as despair ; 
 
 He called, none answered to his call, 
 
 He entered, it was darkness all. 
 
 It struck to his heart with a deadly chill, 
 
 That horrid darkness, deep and still ; 
 
 Stunned was his brain as with a blow j 
 
 And still he seemed not yet to know 
 
 The fearful certainty of wo. 
 
 . ' - n A 
 
 V. 
 
 As one not heeding why or where, 
 He staggered back in the chilly air. 
 
280 YAMQYBEN. 
 
 Agiin tVe tempter's spir't spoke, 
 Again the deep- voiced thunder woke, 
 In lengthening volleys peal on peal, 
 Whereat earth's fabric seemed to reel ; 
 While, as from caldrons vast, of flame, 
 Down the o'erwhelming deluge came. 
 Died on his ear, unheard, the roar ; 
 He had not recked although before 
 His step the earth had yawned ; 
 Through all the imagined shapes and forms 
 That drive to battle blackening storms, 
 In stern array his path had cross'd ; 
 In grief's thick darkness he was lost, 
 On which no day beam dawned. 
 
 VI. 
 
 " There is no hope," he murmured, " none ! 
 
 I journey homeless and alone. 
 
 The forest eagle's secret nest 
 
 Has seen, at last, the spoiler's quest. 
 
 O'er life's remaining wastes of wo, 
 
 Alone, and desperate, forth I go. 
 
 Fool that I was, who vainly thought, 
 
 When ruin's work was round me wrought, 
 
 Amid a people's funeral cry, 
 
 Still to secure that only tie, 
 
 That flower which, with too venturous hand, 
 
 From danger's topmost steep I bore ; 
 
 And fostered in a desert land, 
 
 Amid the gaunt wolves' raving band, 
 
 Amid the whirlwind's ceaseless roar. 
 
 And yet it grew, mid doubt and fear, 
 
 And desolation round, more drear ; 
 
 And still was every care it brought, 
 
 Affection's agony of thought, 
 
 % '&'- 
 
YAMOYDEN. 
 
 That tore the heart, and racked the brain, 
 
 Bless'd in the sacred source of pain ; 
 
 Like some lone bird, whose pinions hover, 
 
 Flapping and tired as on she hies, 
 
 The lake's far gleaming surface over, 
 
 Who now a seeming reed espies, 
 
 Where, rnid the waters, she may rest 
 
 Her drooping head and weary breast, 
 
 Then trusting to that guileful stay, 
 
 Becomes the luridng monster's prey, 
 
 Her heart by fangs relentless torn 
 
 Even from that dearly welcomed bourne; 
 
 So I, a wan derer lone, had fain 
 
 On love's confiding bosom lain ; 
 
 To find, when all the rest had pass'd, 
 
 Thence come the deadliest wound at last, 
 
 And that fond shelter vain. 
 
 Vain ! shall I seek her father's hall, 
 
 Where she must pine in dreary thrall, . 
 
 Reproach her portion sad in life, 
 
 Who dared to be the Indian's wife ? 
 
 Shall I forsake our brethren left, 
 
 Of power, of kin, of home bereft;. 
 
 Even the vile fox's part essay, - 
 
 And point the ruffians to their prey ? 
 
 Idle the dastard treachery were,' 
 
 They would not yield her to my prayer. 
 
 O NORA ! if one beam of hope 
 
 Could through unfathomed darkness grope, 
 
 For thee, thy child, thy God, I dare 
 
 All but a traitor's name to bear ; 
 
 All the proud heart must bend to brook. 
 
 Soothed by thy one atoning look. 
 
 For thee, for them, I once have borne 
 
 Thy father's wrath, thy kinsmen's scorn, 
 
 VOL. I.N If 
 

 
 YAMOYDEN. 
 
 Their pledge of peace they tear away, 
 And vengeance hath its debt to pay. 
 
 VII. 
 
 " Roar on, ye winds ! your voice must be 
 Sweet as the bridal chant to me. 
 Widowed in love, with hate I wed, 
 Espoused within her gory bed. 
 The storm of heaven will soon be past, 
 And all be bright and calm at last ; 
 But man in cruelty and wrong 
 The tempest's fury will prolong, 
 And pause not in his fell career 
 Save o'er my brethren's general bier. 
 Then come my foes ! your work is done ! 
 I cannot weep, I will not groan. 
 My fathers winced not at the stake, 
 Nor gave revenge, with torture rife, 
 One drop its burning thirst to slake, 
 To the last ebbing drop of life. 
 My heart is cold and desolate ^ 
 I shall not struggle long with fate. 
 Had I a mortal, foe, and were 
 His form to rise upon me here, 
 There is no power within my soul, 
 My arm or weapon 'to control ; 
 Sunken and cold ! but it will rise, 
 With my lost tribe's last battle cries ; 
 And death will come, like the last play 
 Of lightning on a stormy day 1" 
 
 VIII. 
 
 So mused the chieftain as he strode 
 Backward upon his cheerless road. 
 The shore is nigh ; the storm again 
 Had hushed its mad and clamorous strain ; 
 
YAMOYDEN. 283 
 
 There was a roar along the surge, 
 
 Which howling winds had ceased to urge ; 
 
 The dark gray clouds above were spread, 
 
 In softening aspect, overhead ; 
 
 The lightning faint at distance played, 
 And low the thunders die. 
 
 Most melancholy was the sound 
 
 Of murmuring winds and waters round ; 
 And sadly showed the tempests' path, 
 
 Where yet the signals of its wrath 
 
 Were hung in grandeur high. 
 Dark flowed the rapid waves beneath, 
 Save where the levin's lessening wreath 
 ' Yet trembled in the sky ; 
 Painted the feathery surge upon, .;;. 
 
 Its flash in dying glory shone, 
 
 And vanished fitfully. f; 
 
 It was an hour for one to mourn, 
 In life, in love, in hope forlorn ; 
 When all above, and all below, 
 Pour their deep thrill on- heart of wo,-- ; um 
 
 Lone sorrow's luxury ; 
 As oft there gleams a transient glow, 
 Above the headlong torrent's flow, 
 
 To sooth and cheer the eye j 
 With its half lost and filmy ray, 
 Lingering upon the restless spray, 
 
 As fleets the current by ;M* 
 
 " 
 
 IX. 
 
 Once more his. bark is on the wave, 
 To join the desperate and the brave ; 
 On through the heaving bay it flew, 
 As his strong arm behind him threw 
 The crested wave ; unheedful still, 
 While strength exerts its wonted skill, 
 
YAMOYDEN. 
 
 '* "***"* 
 
 He only felt, his heart around, st^1 
 A girth that all its pulses bound , 
 And all of memory, fear or hope, 
 Was wound within its anguished scope ; 
 As when the fated victim feels 
 The Carcajou about him dart ; 
 And staggering thro' the forest reels, 
 While still the foe insidious steals 
 His mortal pressure round the heart,^ 
 Until the wound his mercy deals, 
 That lets the struggling soul depart. 
 
 Meantime within his trusted hold 
 
 The dauntless outlaw lay ; 
 Jn scapeless peril proud and bold, 
 
 As in his victor day. 
 
 The bear mid northern winter's gloom, * 
 In some old oak's sequestered womb, 
 Lethargic lives, nor tastes of food, 
 Till from his cheerless solitjde, 
 The exulting voice of balmy spring, 
 The sullen hermit forth shall bring ; 
 But can the soul, that slumbers never, 
 Live on, when hope has fled for ever ; 
 When homage, royalty, and power 
 Have pass'd, the pageant of an hour ; 
 Live on, through exile, want, and chains, 
 When neither friend nor slave remains ; 
 Live on, the mark and theme of hate, 
 To bide the smile of frowning fate,-~ 
 The single chance, not yet to fall, 
 As vulgar souls resign their breath ; 
 And bear, with gloomy patience, all, 
 One trophy to erect in death ; 
 One stab, with dying hand, to give, 
 And know one foeman shall not live ? 
 
YAMOYDEN. 285 
 
 VT 
 
 Thou, of the ocean rock ! what eye 
 
 Thy secret mind shall scan? 
 No conqueror now, no monarch high ; 
 
 A lone, a captive man ! 
 Thine was the chance, in regal sway, 
 Amid thy panoplied array, 
 
 And gallant pomp around, 
 To meet thy last, decisive day, 
 When war, along the kindling fray, 
 
 With dazzling horrors frowned ; 
 While myriad swords around thee moved, 
 Flashing afar the blaze beloved ; 
 And with thy name their battle cry, 
 The charging squadrons rushed to die. 
 But here, in Haup's inglorious swamp, 
 In subterrene, unwarlike camp 
 The stones his pillow, and the reeds 
 The only couch he asks or needs, 
 AT hero lay, whose sleepless soul 
 Was given, the spirits to control 
 Of lesser men.; of heart as great 
 As thine, spoiled favourite of fate ! 
 And he was wise, as bold and true, 
 To use the simple craft he knew; 
 
 His skill from nature came ; 
 A different clime, a different age, 
 Had scrolled his deeds in glory's page ; 
 And proud as thine his wreath had been ! 
 But if unlike thy closing scene, 
 
 How more unlike thy fame ! 
 Thy strife was for another's throne, 
 For realms and subjects not thine own, 
 
 And for a conqueror's name : 
 He fought, because he would not yield 
 His birthright, and his fathers' field ; 
 
280 YAMOYDEN. 
 
 Would vindicate the deep disgrace, 
 The wrongs, the ruin of his race ; 
 He slew, that well avenged in death, 
 His kindred spirits pleased might be ; 
 Died, for his .people and his faith, 
 His sceptre, and his liberty ! 
 
 XII. 
 
 And on this night, whose parting shades 
 Shall see the avengers lift their blades, 
 And bring relentless fury, fraught 
 With many an insult's goading thought, 
 
 The outlaw SACHEM slept ; 
 The while his scanty band around, 
 Low in the swamp's unequal ground, - 
 
 Their mournful vigils kept. 
 Tall trees overthrown their bulwark made, , ; 
 While rude, luxuriant vines o'erspread, 
 
 Concealed their lurking place ; 
 There, now to feeble numbers worn, 
 In strength o'erspent, in hope forlorn, 
 Shrunk, trembling for the coming morn, 
 
 The WAMPANOAG race. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 Mothers and ^vidows sad, were then 
 Hidden within that gloomy fen ; 
 Left for a space, by war, to mourn 
 Each sacred bond asunder torn. 
 Perchance they thought of many a scene 
 Departed, to return no more ; ,. 
 How, when the hunter's toil was o'er, 
 And dressed his frugal meal had been, 
 His children clustered round his knee, 
 To hear the tales of former days, 
 And learn what men should strive to be, 
 While listening to the warrior's praise : 
 

 ___ 
 
 YAMOYDEN. 287 
 
 ^a^..* '* 
 
 And she, thrice happy parent J sate, 
 
 Well pleased, beside her honoured mate ; 
 
 What time gray eve its welcome hue 
 
 O'er distant hills and forests threw : 
 
 Nor idle then, with dexterous hand, 
 
 She wrought the glittering wampum band ; 
 
 Or loved the silken grass to brard ; 
 
 Or through the deer-skin, smooth and strong, 
 
 Weaving the many-coloured thong, 
 
 Her hunter's comely sandals made. 
 
 This they recalled ; and marvelled they, 
 
 When bounteous earth is wide and free, 
 
 Why, man, whose life is for a day, 
 
 So much in love with wo should be ! 
 
 XIV. 
 
 He slept, yet not the spirit slept ; 
 
 Her feverish vigil memory kept ; 
 
 In motley visions *on her eye, 
 
 The phantom host of dreams pass'd by* 
 
 Tradition, meet for vulgar faith, 
 
 Has told of threats of coming skaith, 
 
 Spoke by the Evil One, who came, 
 
 This eve, his destined prey to claim, 
 
 In form, as when at noon of night, . . 
 
 He met him on the mountain's height : \# ': 
 
 O'er the gray rock the fiend outspread 
 
 His sable pinions as he fled, 
 
 And ere the sounding .air he cleft, 
 
 His foot gigantic impress left. 
 
 Such superstition's idle tale, 
 
 But let the minstrel's lore prevail, 
 
 . XV. 
 
 He saw the world of souls ; and there, 
 Brave men and beauteous women were J. ' 
 
*' 
 
 288 YAMOYDEN. 
 
 Fair firms to chiefs of godlike mien, 
 
 Reposing in their arbours green, 
 
 Supplied the spicy bowls they quaffed, 
 
 And round them danced, and joyous laughed ; 
 
 While aye the warriors smiled to see 
 
 Those lovely creatures in their glee ; 
 
 And pledged them in the sparkling cup ; 
 
 Or .breathed their fragrant incense up ; 
 
 Grateful and pure, 'twas seen to flow 
 
 From calumets like stainless snow. 
 
 Apart reclined in kingly state, - 
 
 The ancient MASSASOIET sate, 
 
 And earnest with UJVCQMPOEN old, t u*:. f t3 
 
 Speech grave, but pleasant, seemed .to hold ; 
 
 Uncompoen, slain in recent fight, 
 
 Contending for his nephew's right. 
 
 Just from the woods, like hunter dight, 
 
 The gallant OUAMSUTTA came ; 
 
 Bearing behind his plenteous game, 
 
 In order moved the warrior's train ; 
 
 Joyous his bearing was, and free. 
 
 As if fatigue and wounds and pain, 
 
 In that bless'd world could never be ; 
 
 His buskins trapped with glittering gold, 
 
 His floating mantle's graceful fold 
 
 Clasped with a sparkling gem; 
 Dazzling his cincture's radiance gleamfcd, 
 Woven from the heavenly bow it seemed, 
 And like the sun-rays danced and streamed 
 
 His feathery diadem. 
 A spear with silver tipt he bore ; 
 The gay ly-tink ling rings before, 
 
 The quiver rattling on his back, 
 His buoyant frame and kindling eye, 
 The thrilling pulse of transport high, 
 
 The sense of power and pleasure spake. 
 
. >*>. 
 
 YAMOYDEN. 289 
 
 f ' *^4^l' .... ^1 
 
 And one and all the SACHEM knew, 
 When near their blissful bower he drew ; 
 And clapped their hands with joy to see 
 The hero join^ their company. 
 And strains of softest music round, 
 From flutes and tabors, with the sound 
 Of voices, sweet as sweetest bird, 
 To greet the entering guest were heard. 
 " Welcome/* they sung, " thy toils are done, 
 Thy battles fought, thy rest is won ; 
 And welcome to the world thou art, 
 Where kindred souls shall never part ; 
 Honor on earth shall valour have, 
 And joy with us attends the brave." 
 
 XVI. 
 
 That ravishing dream was rapt away, 
 Vanished the forms, the music died ; 
 And changeful fancy's wayward sway 
 Visions of darker hue supplied. 
 O'er frozen plains he seemed to go, 
 Mid driving sleet, and bluiding snow. 
 Then Assawomsett's lake he knew, 
 And dim descried, the tempest through, 
 Apostate SAUSAMAN arise ; 
 Stiff were his gory locks with ice, 
 
 And mangled was his form ; 
 It.towered aloft, to giant size ; 
 Fierce shone the fury of his eyes, 
 
 Like lightning through the storm. 
 He cried, " My spirit hath no home ! 
 A weary, wandering ghost, I roam. 
 This night the avengers lift the blade 
 And my foul murder shall be paid !* 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
YAMOYDEN. 
 XVII. 
 
 Then thought the SACHEM that his way 
 Through Metapoiset's forest lay. 
 Mid the thick shadows of the grove, 
 
 A form was rushing seen ; 
 He saw with wildered paces rove 
 
 Pocasset's warrior queen. 
 As from the water's depths she came, 
 With dripping locks and bloated frame. 
 Wild her discoloured arms she threw 
 To grasp him ; and as swift he flew, 
 Her hollow scream he heard behind, 
 Come mingling with the howling Wind. 
 " Why fly from WATAMOE ? she died, 
 Bearing the war-axe on thy side !" 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 ..YKVYf, : ;!; ^niriaivci }#rf 
 
 Now in a gloomy glade. he stood ; 
 
 Along the sward, the tracks of blood 
 
 Led, where in death a conguar lay ; 
 
 Fast ebbed the crimson stream away ; 
 
 But fiercely rolled his balls of fire, 
 
 And flashed their unextinguished ire 
 
 Towards the forest ; where the chief 
 
 An armed Indian could descry, 
 
 Who, less in anger than in grief, 
 
 Seemed to behold his victim die, 
 
 Though lost his features were in gloom. 
 
 But Philip knew his hour was come, 
 
 And death from Indian hand was nigh. -;: ^; 
 
 For that red tiger oft .had been, 
 
 In earlier dreams prophetic, seen. 
 
 It was the emblem of his soul, 
 
 The shade that still his life attended; 
 
 And but when life attained its goal, 
 
 He knew its visioned being ended. 
 

 YAMOYDEN. 291 
 
 ,;iJir, ./ -.' XIX. ^v: ; : "ff.Yi?!rn I 
 He woke, and from his covert sprung ; 
 O'er the dark fen deep silence hung ; 
 The moon had burst her sable shroud, 
 And from a silver-skirted cloud 
 Emerging, radiant but serene, 
 Looked forth upon the varying scene. 
 Now verging to the opening west, wt< 
 
 Her beams objiquely fell ; 
 O'er the broad hill's rock-girdled breast, 
 
 O'er thicket, glade, and dell ; KJ u 
 Scattered the bay's blue waters o'er, 
 And lit Pocasset's shelving shore. 
 'Twas as if now, when fate was near, 
 Awhile she brushed away her tear ; 
 That, the last time, the SACHEM'S eye. 
 His native regions might descry, 
 So lovely is that trembling beam, 
 That well his soul entranced might deem, 
 The Spirit's w r orld, with all its bliss, 
 Had not a realm so fair as this. 
 
 XX. 
 
 If sorrow hath its feeling high, 
 
 And sadness its sublimity, 
 
 'Tis when the hero on his fate, 
 
 With thought composed, can meditate ; 
 
 Throw o'er the past a steady eye, 
 
 And bid an ingrate world good-by-!;.a,/fc 
 
 Long -and intently gazed the chief, 
 
 Till found his thoughts in speech relief. 
 
 " Like thee, fair sun of night ! have I, 
 
 Through mountain clouds of destiny, m I 
 
 Struggling, and darkened oft, been driven ; 
 
 But fixed, as is thy course in heaven, -i^do 
 
 i I 
 V 
 
292 VAMOYDEN. 
 
 Nor brethren's fear, nor foeman's wrath, 
 Hath turned me from my purposed path. 
 My hour is come ; my light is lost, 
 By never-bursting blackness crossed ; 
 While unrevenged my kindred lie, 
 My nation's ghosts indignant cry ; 
 And unatoned, my native lands 
 Must captive pass to stranger hands. 
 But thou, in thine immortal march 
 .Renewed, wilt span the eternal arch : 
 Here wilt thou pour thy mellow flood, 
 When other sandals press the sod : 
 Thou, eye of even !~ on yonder hill 
 Wilt look, serene and beauteous still, 
 When the last echo shall have died, 
 That spoke my tribe's expiring pride ; (jj .1 
 Thy quenchless font diminished not, 
 
 When METACOM shall be forgot. 
 
 > M*' * 
 
 _ 
 
 XXI. 
 
 " Fair sun of night ! thou movest alone; 
 
 Compeer or friend thou ne'er hast known, 
 
 Mid all the swarms in yonder plain, 
 
 That sparkle only in thy wane. 
 
 And lone as thine, my course has been, 
 
 Amid the multitudes of men. usita 
 
 Through all the crowds that hemmed me round, 
 
 My soul no kindred spirit found. 
 
 All brutish natures I could meet, 
 
 The wary, bold, and strong, and fleet ; 
 
 But that, whereby men's spirits sway 
 
 The herds that fly them, or obey, 
 
 I could not waken to my will 
 
 Or touch to one responsive thrill ; 
 
 The nobler powers of men unite, 
 
 In hopes, in council, or in fight. 
 
YAMOYDEN. 
 
 293 
 
 Else, conquering ever, I had met 
 The foe I reverence, while I hate ; 
 And to their ocean hurled agen 
 The intruders proud, who are but men. 
 
 JijSVJoii ,3i.J.;'ii*iJiti r uib zi\ HOVO <kil U 
 
 XXII. 
 
 " I <can believe what seers of old, 
 
 And earlier dreams have dimly told, 
 
 With memory's casual beams, that play, 
 
 To mock with ineffectual ray, 
 
 With those wild thoughts and fancies vain, 
 
 That idly cross the waking brain ; 
 
 I can believe some souls, that quit 
 
 Their fleshy forms, again are sent, 
 
 Unconscious, after wanderings fit, 
 
 Of their forsaken tenement, 
 
 By wisdom's lore to sway the host, 
 
 Or glow within a warrior's frame ; 
 
 As thou, Otnoon! though sometimes lost, 
 
 Return'st, another, yet the same. . 
 
 If thus it be, or if the soul, 
 
 Escaped, shall wing its viewless flight, 
 
 Amid the clouds that o'er us roll, 
 
 To track the eagle's realms delight, 
 
 And swell the tempest's martial voice, 
 
 When spirits bold in fight rejoice ; 
 
 Or seek those far off western climes, 
 
 Whence came our sires, in distant times, 
 
 For ever with their shades to dwell : 
 
 Where'er the spirit's course may be, 
 
 My last good-night I give to thee ; 
 
 Since thou no more shalt beam on me, 
 
 Moon of my fathers ! fare thee well !" 
 
 '--&&&% ctsfjurrarbfii Tjiill&s* biiA 
 XXIII. 
 
 He heard soft steps advancing fast ; 
 Long shades o'er the rough fen were cast ; 
 
294 .^ YAMOYDEN. 
 
 Indian^ draw near ; in moments brief, *> > 
 YAMOYDEN stands before the chief. 
 " Brother, well met ; if firm thou art, 
 
 With me to stand or bleed ; 
 If not, even as thou earnest, depart, 
 
 No doubtful aid we need. 
 For treacherous dogs have sought the foe, 
 And soon our secret haunt will show ; - 
 Uncertain to remain" or fly, 
 Our hope is but like men to die." 
 " SACHEM, no doubtful faith is mine ; 
 My heart, my hand, my friends are thine. 
 To life to bind me there is nought ; 
 Like thine, my kindred all have sought 
 
 The world where spirits go ; 
 Like thine, a captive led, my wife 
 Leaves me a beggared half of life, 
 Hopeless to struggle with the strife 
 
 Of roaring waves of wo. 
 No winged sorcerer, from the bed, 
 Where they lie fathoms deep, and dead, 
 
 My perished hopes can bring ; 
 No charmed bough can find agaki 
 My cherished treasure's secret vein ; 
 And no sweet songster's welcome voice 
 Can bid this widowed heart rejoice, 
 
 Or tell of budding spring. 
 My tongue with thee hath known no wile ; 
 I liked thee not when stained with guile, 
 And helpless innocence thy spoil : 
 And yet if thine the serpent stroke, 
 
 And thine the serpent sting, 
 Thy foes did first each deed provoke, 
 And rattling indignation spoke 
 
 Swift vengeance on the wing. 
 Nor e'er shall Indian say that I 
 Stood calm, in recreant baseness nigh, 
 

 YAMOYDEN. 295 
 
 To see the foul and- senseless beast 
 On generous valour coldly feast ; 
 Gorge on, with no remorseless pang, 
 Nor feel the venom, nor the fang." 
 
 ^ 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 . 
 
 " Brother, enough ; our wrongs the same. 
 One be our fate, and one our fame 1" 
 Abrupt their speech the "SACHEM broke, 
 For conscience smote him as. he spoke. ' 
 In that high moment of despair, 
 When kindred valour swore to share 
 The hour of peril and of death, 
 The secret wrong lay hid beneath ; 
 The deadly wrong, unthought, uritold,r- 
 And all was hollow, false, and cold ! 
 " Rise, warriors rise 1". the chieftain cried ; 
 " Even here", on Haup's majestic side, 
 Yet be the white man's power defied ! 
 Once more our native holds shall see 
 The Wampanoa'gs' martial glee ; 
 Once more their echoes shall prolong 
 Our ancient, sacred, warrior song !" 
 
 ^ - itUJBTV fliOTi>i^ H.K.I /h-r) .... ^ ^g 
 
 XXV. 
 
 Emerging from the checkered sod, 
 From moving tree, from parting clod, 
 
 A hundred Indians rise ; 
 As if a wizard's power had bade 
 The graves in throes give up their dead, 
 The potent spells of fear obeyed, 
 At which the pale moon overhead 
 
 Shrunk fading from the skies ! 
 Around the expecting warriors ran ; 
 His martial dance the chief began ; 
 With ponderous club the earth he stroke^ljx) 
 And thus his death-song wildly woke. 
 
296 YAMOYDEN. 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 PHILIPS DEATH- SONG. 
 I 
 
 " Heard ye, among the murmuring trees, 
 The spirits' whispering in the breeze ? 
 Mark ! where along the moonlight glade, 
 Flits the wandering hero's shade ! 
 Old and sage OOSAMEQUEN ! 
 Seekest thou thy people's groves agen ? 
 Wise and ancient Sagamore 1- 
 Warily his wrongs he, bore ; 
 But still his spirit o'er its hate 
 Brooding did deeply meditate ; 
 Living, it lowered on their abodes, 
 Dying, curs'd the white men's gods ! 
 
 - . . 
 
 See ye not a frowning ghost ? 
 
 Valiant son of valiant sire ! 
 
 Alas ! that thine was not the boast, 
 r m 
 
 OUAMSUTTA ! to expire, 
 As warriors love their life to yield, 
 With blood-stained arms, on battle field ! 
 The stately beech is green in vain, 
 When dies at top its vital part ; 
 Wrought in thy brain the victor's chain, 
 And withered all thy manly heart. 
 But let thy foemen, from thy hearse, 
 Hear, and dread thy dying curse ! 
 
 3. 
 
 Along the mist-clad mountain's brow 
 The deer may course in transport now ; 
 O'er his plains may bounding go, 
 Bold, the shaggy buffalo ; 
 Now the gray moose may fearless fly ; 
 For cold the valiant hunters lie ! 
 .sifov/ viMto.-sn. 
 
297 
 
 Strong was their arm ; their step was fleet ; 
 Swift as the deer's their winged feet : 
 How oft in desperate conflict low 
 They laid the madly struggling foe ; 
 How oft their grasp, with sinewy might, 
 Has staid the elk, in wildest flight ! 
 
 4. 
 
 Say, have I left ye, champions brave, 
 Forgot, dishonoured in your grave? 
 Say, did your spirits call in vain, 
 On one unmindful of the slain ? 
 Brothers, have I idly stood, 
 When rung your war-cry in the wood ; 
 When crimson battle-stains ye took, 
 Your quivers filled, and war-clubs shook? 
 Ye for my long remembrance speak, 
 Midnight fire, and midnight shriek ! 
 Scalps, that my deadly vows made good ! 
 fields, where I quaffed the bowl of blood !" 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 But here no more our song must dwell, 
 While other chiefs look up the tale 
 
 Of their fore fat hers* deeds; 
 TIASK and TESPJQUIN began, 
 And through their sanguine annals ran, 
 The feuds and wars of many a clan, 
 Lost to the storied race of man, 
 
 Nor of them memory heeds : 
 Then, doomed to fall by guileful plan, 
 Long spoke the generous ANNA WAN. 
 Meantime YAMOYDEN stood aloof; 
 He heard a solemn, still reproof, 
 Demanding why the song of blood, 
 Ascending to the Christian's God, 
 
 To his late vows succeeds ? 
 
 VOL. I. P P 
 

 YAMOYDEN. 
 
 CANTO SIXTH. 
 
 WOMAN 1 blest partner of our joys and woes ! 
 Even in the darkest hour of earthly ill, 
 Untarnished yet, thy fond affection glows, 
 Throbs with each pulse, and beats with every thrill ! 
 Bright o'er the wasted scene, thou hoverest still, 
 Angel of comfort to the failing soul ; 
 Undaunted by the tempest, wild and chill, 
 That pours its restless and disastrous roll, 
 O'er all that blooms below, with sad and hollow howl ! 
 
 When sorrow rends the heart, when feverish pain 
 Wrings the hot drops of anguish from the brow, 
 To sooth the soul, to cool the burning brain, 
 O, who so welcome and so prompt as thou ! 
 The battle's hurried scene and angry glow, 
 The death-encircled pillow of distress, 
 The lonely moments of secluded wo, 
 Alike thy care and constancy confess, 
 Alike thy pitying hand, and fearless friendship bless ! 
 
 Thee youthful fancy loves in aid to call ; 
 Thence first invoked the sacred sisters were ; 
 The form that holds the enthusiast's heart in thrall, 
 He, mid his bright creation, paints most fair ; 
 True, in this earthly wilderness of care, 
 As hunters path the wilds and forests through ; 
 
 X 
 
300 YAMOYDEN. 
 
 And firm, all fragile as thou art, to bear 
 Life's dangerous billows, as the light canoe, 
 That shoots, with all its freight, the impetuous rapid's flow, 
 
 Thee, Indians tell, the first of men to win, 
 Clomb long the vaulted heaven's unmeasured height : 
 And well their uncouth fable speaks therein 
 The worth even savage souls can neyer slight. 
 Tired with the chase, the hunter greets at night 
 Thy welcome smile, the balm of every wo ; 
 Thy patient toil makes all his labours light ; 
 And from his grave when friends and kindred go, 
 Thou weeping comest, the sweet sagamite to strow I 
 
 I. 
 
 Left to the troublous thoughts that rose 
 To bar her wearied frame's repose, 
 Sad NORA, in her guardian's care, 
 Had pass'd, in penitence and prayer, 
 The hours, till evening round descended, 
 And forests, shores, and waters blended, 
 
 In her pale, misty light : 
 The tenants of the wigwam slept, 
 And silently their prisoner crept .r/T. 
 
 Forth in the doubtful night ; 
 She gazed, with moist apd wistful eye, 
 As now the moon, through clouds on high, 
 
 Climbed near her central height ; 
 The wind, careering o'er the sky, 
 Scattered the rack confusedly ; 
 
 One moment all was bright, 
 The next with shadows overspread ; 
 And dark the forests waved their head ; 
 And dark each scene that lay beneath 
 The inconstant heaven's uncertain wreath, 
 
 Arose upcfn her sight. 
 
YAMOYDEN. 301 
 
 II. 
 
 And now the hour was near, she knew, 
 
 When, to his love and promise true, 
 
 YAMOYDEN from the mount would speed, ^iii 
 
 To seek his desolated cot ; 
 
 It was in vain she mused, and sought 
 
 The morning's dark events to read, 
 
 That tore her thence away 
 From all she loved, in danger's hour, 
 And to the gloomy ruffian's power 
 
 Consigned her child a prey. 
 She only saw her husband, reft 
 Of all that fate unkind had left, 
 Roam through the forest, lost and wild, 
 Calling on NORA and her child ; 
 And then she thought upon the brave, 
 Doomed with him to a common grave, 
 Whom yet her warning voice might save, 
 
 III, 
 
 Unconscious where her footsteps strayed, 
 She roved through many a darksome glade, 
 Till, far from the forsaken glen, 
 She knew her morning's road agen. 
 She marked it by a lonely mound, 
 Raised by the traveller's pious hand, 
 That told, in its deserted ground, 
 Slept the dead heroes of the land ; 
 Dead, ere upon the verdant strand 
 The invader's hostile feet were found ; 
 Now sleeping, nameless, and alone, 
 Beneath that heap of rugged stone. 
 Onward through thick embowering wood, 
 
 Her lonely journey sped ; 
 Deep was the tangled solitude 
 
 That round the wanderer spread. 
 
302 YAMOYDEX. 
 
 Onward she went, till wild and rude, 
 The tempest burst in wrathful mood, 
 
 Careering o'er her head. 
 Withdrawn was now the silver ray ; 
 The lightning's momentary play 
 
 A ruddier splendour shed ; 
 Then midnight blackness round was cast ; 
 Nor longer could the path be traced, 
 
 And roving wild she fled. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Yamoyden rushed in that same hour 
 Forth from his desolated bower. 
 Alas ! that hearts thus close allied 
 Should struggle with the severing tide, 
 
 So near, yet so remote ! 
 Like sailors of some perished bark, 
 Struggling mid billows vexed and dark ; 
 While howls so loud the storm's career, 
 Each other's screams they cannot hear, 
 
 Nor catch one dying note ; 
 While but a single wave disparts 
 Those gallant, lost, and faithful hearts ! 
 
 V. 
 
 Soon reason left her mind again ; 
 
 There seemed a gulf of thoughts and pain 
 
 Roaring around her harassed brain, 
 
 Where nought distinct arose ; 
 She knew not why she wandered there, 
 Nor heard the sound that rent the air, 
 
 Nor felt the tempest's throes. 
 It seemed as if, in murmurs nigh, 
 Throbbed on her ear some melody, 
 
YAMOYDEN. 303 
 
 She once had loved and sung ; 
 And well-known voices whispered near, 
 Even to her darkling memory dear ; 
 And then a moment thundered by 
 The elemental revelry, 
 
 And deafening round her rung. 
 But when to consciousness once more 
 She waked, she marked the billows roar* 
 With troubled hue and sullen dash, 
 Oft lit by the retiring flash. 
 The storm had ceased its maddening rage, 
 And on her clouded pilgrimage 
 
 The moon was slowly riding ; 
 High, mid the fringings of the storm, 
 She showed, half hid, her lucid form, 
 
 The scene of tumult chiding. 
 
 VI. 
 
 New terror blanched her pallid brow, 
 When o'er her path a stranger cross'd, 
 With wildered air, and footsteps slow, 
 As one in moody musings-lost. 
 It was a red man she espied, 
 
 And, on her nearer view, 
 Her kind deliverer and her guide 
 
 The trembling lady knew. 
 The bold MOHEGAN shrunk to see 
 So wan, so fair a form as she ; 
 In white was robed her slender frame, 
 And needs, he thought, a spirit came ; 
 A spirit more beautiful than e'er 
 Had visited this gloomy sphere. 
 Her tremulous voice dissolved his spell ; 
 " Mysterious friend ?" she cried, " O tell, 
 
YAMOYDEJf. 
 
 Since life thou gavest me, where are those, 
 
 My husband and my infant where, 
 
 Without whom life is hard to bear, 
 
 A prison-house of many woes ! 
 
 Why was I torn from home away ? 
 
 At whose command, and wherefore say." 
 
 " Such oft thy question," said the chief, 
 
 " Amid the darkness of thy grief. 
 
 Then vain my words to reach thine ear j 
 
 For it was closed ; and I could hear 
 
 Thy converse with the spirits near. 
 
 Christian, than this I know no more, 
 
 'Twas METACOM'S command that bore 
 
 Thy child to Pawkanawkut's shore. 
 
 And thou with him hadst gone ; but I .v/o* 
 
 Sought from his feeble cause to fly, 
 
 And thought that through thyself, for me, 
 
 Peace with thy brethren there might be : 
 
 Nor other aim had then, to save 
 
 Thy form from bondage or the grave. 
 
 Of UNCAS' race am I, who ne'er 
 
 Aught heeded woman's idle tear. 
 
 But when thou didst, in thy despair, 
 
 Hang on me like a wild-flower fair, 
 
 To the bleak cliffs of Haup that clings, 
 
 When thou wast borne beneath my wings, 
 
 So lovely, helpless, wo-begone, 
 
 Amid our ruthless band alone, 
 
 A new-born gush of mercy stole, 
 
 Like a fresh dew, upon my soul : 
 
 Ay ! though thy treacherous race I hate, 
 
 That melting pity lingers yet. 
 
 Beautiful Christian ! I would die, 
 
 To spare thine heart one heavy sigh ! 
 
 But this is idle ; wouldst thou seek 
 
 News of YAMOYDEN ?" " Speak ! O speak !" 
 
YAMOYDEN. 305 
 
 " I saw him, as his swift canoe, 
 
 Hours since, towards the mountain flew. - 
 
 I marked him, through the mists and gloom : 
 
 I knew him-by his eagle plume, 
 
 And by his woven mantle red ;" 
 
 " And thou wilt serve me, thou hast said ? 
 
 O then conduct me /there ! 
 And I will call on heaven to shed 
 Its choicest blessings o'er thy head, 
 
 Even with my dying prayer." 
 " Fair Christian ! to the mountain side, 
 Gladly thy footsteps I will guide ; 
 But where thy husband lies- below, 
 With METACOM, I cannot go.' 
 Sad scenes will meet thine eyes," " No more ! 
 Kind chieftain, bear me to- the shore !" - 
 
 > WVfc f iris -'/^^r 
 
 VII. 
 
 
 His boat was nigh ; Its fragile side 
 Boldly the venturous wanderer tried ; 
 Along they shot^o'er the murmuring bay, 
 As they bore for the adverse bank away. 
 I guess it was a full strange sight, 
 To see in the track of the ghostly light,- 
 The swarthy chief and the lady bright, 
 
 O'er the heaving waves borne on ; 
 While her white wan cheek and robe of white 
 
 The pale ray played upon ; 
 And above his dusky plumage shook ; 
 Backward was flung his feathery cloak, 
 As his brawny arms were stretched to ply 
 The oars that made their shallop fly : 
 I ween that he who had seen them ride, 
 As they rose in turn o'er the bellying tide, 
 Had deemed it a vision of olden time, ., 
 Of Afric wizard in faery clime ; 
 
 VOL. I. - Q Q 
 
- * 
 
 . i> 
 
 306 Y.AMOYDEN. 
 
 In durance dread, by sorceries dark, 
 Who wafted a lady in magic- bark. 
 And alt above, and around them, save 
 Where the quivering beam was on the wave, 
 Was dubious light, and shifting -shade, 
 
 By clouds and mists and waters made : 
 
 * 
 
 The snowy foam on the billow lay, 
 Then sunk in the black abyss away ; 
 The rack went scudding before the blast, 
 
 * And its gloom o'er the bay came swift -and pass'd ; 
 
 Flittingly gleamed the silvery streak, 
 On the waving hills and mountain peak ; 
 But the star of love looked out in the west, 
 As if that lone lady's path she bless'd. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Swift, where the midway current swept, 
 His pirogue's course AHAUTON kept ; 
 And soon, upon the opposing shore, 
 They saw their skiff securely Tnoor ; 
 And NORA knelt upon the sand, 
 And bless'd her God's directing hand ; 
 
 Then on. their course they bent ; 
 Tall rocks in rude disorder pileclj 
 Frowned o'er the bank sublimely wild j 
 Where fancy's- eye, at dusky hour, 
 Might image citadel and tower. 
 And o'er the margin where they hung, 
 , The fir from frequent fissure sprung ; 
 
 Here, bending as it strove to lave 
 Its branches in the passing wave ; 
 There, perched on high, with solemn cone, 
 % It stood, in gloomy pride, alone. 
 
 >> . ', '*.?"*' ,* .-><*+ .. V. '..-** 
 
 She marked them not ; nor, farther still, 
 Succeeding to that broken hill, 
 
 * 
 

 YAMOYDEN. 307 
 
 Where wide the landscape lay ; 
 Nor paused they where an ancient wood, 
 In dark repose, and silent, stood ; - 
 Beyond its awful solitude,- 
 
 The twain pursued their way.. 
 Now, by the margin of the cove, 
 In rugged, winding path they rove, v.^1 'f 
 She only looked r where, broad and high, 
 Mount Haup arose in majesty ; 
 Lifting, through forests brown, its head, 
 Where the gray cliffs their rampart spread ; 
 Their moss-clad brows the chroniclers 
 Of time, for many a thousand years, 
 That here, unstoried, came and went ; 
 Aloft they stood, like battlement 
 Of Spirit's castle ; -as if tKsrer, 
 The wandering hosts of upper air, 
 In fleecy vapour oft revealed, 
 Nightly their spectral wassail held. 
 
 And now, through wet and tangled ground, 
 Their pathway to the mountain wound. 
 The moon's last rays were trembling o'er 
 The hill, the bay, and adverse shore. 
 A moment, faintly bright/ they rest 
 Upon the summit's naked breast ; 
 Checker the thickets on its side, 
 Shed filmy lines along the tide ; . 
 On distant bank and rock and isle, 
 Gleam with their melancholy smile ; 
 They tip the farthest hiUs that bound 
 The fading landscape glimmering round ; 
 Fringe the deep clouds with parting light, 
 Then fail, and all is lost in night. 
 
 A,m$ |f|A^MiJ r- 
 
 -* *fti 
 
 
 
308 YAMOYDEN. 
 
 XL 
 
 In darkness and in doubt, they tried 
 The rising mountain's rugged side ; 
 Rude and uneasy its ascent, 
 To one with toil and grief o'erspent. 
 She heard the startled fox's cry,'. 
 Pass with its sudden wailing nigh ; 
 The wolf's sad howl came frequent by ; 
 But human voice .was heard not there ; 
 'Twas lone and mournful as despair; 
 ^ No watchfire shot its gleams afar, 
 
 Nor woke the red man's song of war ; 
 Jf warriors in these shades reposed* 
 All was in utter silence closed. 
 
 
 Pass'd is the long and rocky slope ; 
 She stands upon the mountain top ; 
 And cool is now the breeze that flings 
 O'er the bleak height its humid wings, 
 Freshening across the eastern bay, 
 ^ The signal of approaching day. 
 
 And faintly, in the distant sky, 
 A gray beam stole on NORA'S eye ; 
 Dimly morn's struggling herald kiss'd 
 The foldings of the billowy mist, 
 And fell upon the waves below, u^j! 
 
 With soft and melancholy glow. 
 
 XIII, 
 
 Here the-MoHEGAN paused >, he bent 
 Northward, awhile, his gaze intent ; 
 As if he marked, mid glooms below, 
 . The haunts where lay ensnared his foe. 
 Troubled he seemed, as one who doth 
 A task, to which his will is loath, 
 
. 
 
 YAMOYDEN. 309 
 
 But feels some fatal power control, 
 
 As with resistless whirl, the soul. if ^irf, 
 
 " Christian," he cried, " I leave thee here, 
 
 Where danger's course thou needst not fear. 
 
 He, who-my brother slew, lies .there 1 
 
 As it were shame beyond repair, 
 
 If any but my father's son, 
 
 The murderer's scalp in battle won ! 
 
 I would the tempest, o'er him spread, 
 
 Might burst but on the guilty head ; . 
 
 But the red bolt, once launched, must fall 
 
 In wrath and ruin upon all. 
 
 I go ; but when the strife is past, 
 
 And the proud king lies cold at last, 
 
 When the foul birds shall downward sweep, 
 
 And forth the wolves qn carnage peep, 
 
 Then mayst thou hence descend, to save 
 
 With thy sweet prayers the captive brave j 
 
 Bid the stained hand of slaughter stay 
 
 The axe impending o'er its prey ; 
 
 Perchance YAMOYDEN rescue, nay ! 
 
 Now, vain thy farther journeying were. 
 
 Farewell ! I leave thee thus alone, 
 
 But when my destined work is ddne, 
 
 jHzslife shall be my dearest care."- 
 
 XIV. 
 
 Silent and swift the chief departed ; 
 Dark o'er the bosom of the hill, 
 Along the rocks she marked him steal, 
 Then in the thicket's depths he darted j 
 And she was left, -alone to feel 
 The sad impatience that would see 
 The measure of its misery ; 
 That hath, in man, nor hope nor friend, 
 Nor knows what time its wo shall end. 
 
310 YAMOYDEN. 
 
 Then fervently the lone one prayed, \ 
 In this her trying hour for aid. 
 
 ' ^ I . ' ' i* ! . 
 
 XV. 
 
 Sad rose the morning ; not in bloom 
 
 Awakening radiant from the gloom ; . . -^/ 
 
 All nature gladdening as it spread, 
 
 And light, and life, and glory shed ; 
 
 Not sporting on, the gentle gale, 
 
 That floats o'er stream and dewy vale ; 
 
 Not bursting mid the kindling heaven, 
 
 Its hues in gold and purple given ; 
 
 For now, in dreary twilight lay 
 
 The scene beneath its mantle gray : 
 
 Mute was the melody of morn, 
 
 And hushed was nature's harp forlorn. 
 
 Alone, above the vaporous clouds, 
 
 That hung, with mournful hue, like shrouds, 
 
 O'er every distant peak, 
 Rose a faint line, as morning here .# , ,. 
 Thro' the dark hosts her flag would rear, 
 
 The coming day to speak. 
 Purple it seemed, yet lost and blending, 
 With the dull hues around ascending ; 
 And a soft roseate tint was seen, 
 At intervals, the shades between ; 
 As changeful, as unfixed it spread, 
 As the last bloom, ere life has fled. 
 But as- the light of day uprose, 
 Those transient tints of beauty close ; 
 In volumes dense, o'er earth and main, 
 Descend the wreathing mists again; 
 Pocasset's long and verdant coast 
 In that unwelcome veil was lost, v 
 With sweep of hills and forests wide, 
 And sparkling waves between that glide ; 
 

 YAMOYDEN. 
 
 311 
 
 Where, glancing o'er the sunny isles, 
 That stud the water's dimpling smiles, 
 The eye might ocean's breast explore, 
 Or scan the western streams that pour 
 Their tides on Narraganset's shore ; * 
 Or upward, to Patuxet's side, 
 Extend the tribute of their pride, 
 But now the scene had narrow bound, 
 And scarce the mountain's base beyond, 
 
 Was aught distinctly seen : 
 Strange were the shapes that seemed to rise 
 Imperfectly upon the eyes ; 
 And wildered fancy here might form 
 The awful Spirit of the storm,- 
 
 In all his terrors dress'd ; 
 Stretching his giant arms abroad, 
 
 And throned where footsteps never trod ; a 
 
 Or high in gloomy car upborne, I i 
 Rushing to combat with the morn, 
 
 Upon the tempest's breast. 
 
 XVI 
 
 Still as she gazed with anxious eye, 
 The expected battle to descry, 
 The breeze with murmurs low that sighed, 
 Came freshening from the eastern tide, 
 
 And swept the brooding mists away, 
 
 That o'er the northern prospect lay. 
 Rocks, woods, and swamps- arose to view, 
 Though yet o'erhung with vapoury hue 
 And eastward, dimly mid the trees, 
 The English forms and arms she sees ; 
 Low couchqd beneath the forest shade, 
 Round lay their sitent ambuscade. 
 Prostrate the moveless band she spied f 
 An Indian by a white- man's side, 
 
 
312 
 
 YAMOYDEN. 
 
 Alternate placed, was crouching seen, 
 Skirting the borders of the fen. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 Intently as she gazed, agen, 
 Elsewhere, she marked where armed men 
 Westward were hid, in ambush close, 
 From where a swelling upland rose. 
 That knoll a practised eye -alone 
 The haunt of savages had known ; 
 For the rude sconce, around it reared, 
 Like thicket's tangled growth appeared. 
 And there the remnant of that race, 
 So long devoted to the chase, 
 Lay hid ; thus hemmed, all unaware 
 What morning greetings foes prepare ; 
 But, as the elks in northern wood, 
 Girt by the hunter's -circle fly, 
 And headlong plunging in the flood 
 New dangers meet, and with their blood 
 Staining the guarded waters, die ; 
 So, vainly may the band betrayed 
 Rush from their leaguered palisade, 
 The swamp's recesses dark to try, 
 There, too, relentless foemen lie. 
 
 XVIIL 
 
 As NORA marked them, from the knoll, 
 With wary steps an Indian stole ; 
 And seemed it, that the thicket's screen 
 Kept from his glance the foe unseen. 
 For forth he gazed ; and though in sad 
 And dusky livery morn was clad, 
 Nature's free kingdom seemed to yield 
 A transport through his heart that thrilled. 
 
YAMOYDEN. 313 
 
 He leap'd for joyance ; when a flame 
 Bright from the ambushed thicket came ; 
 The death-ball whizzed, with angry knell, 
 And from the rampart wild he fell. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 Then, as that signal's echoes rung, 
 Far flashed the fire the woods among. 
 Too soon their shot the ambush sent ; 
 Innocuous o'er the foe it went. 
 But the dun smoke that upward flew, 
 The fortress veiled from NORA'S view, 
 Till, as the breezes slowly bear 
 Its volumes through the drizzly air, 
 She marked the assaulted Indians glide 
 Forth from their bulwark's eastward side, 
 Unclosed, that timely they might gain 
 The marsh ; disordered ran the train ; 
 The dark morass they hurried through, 
 Ever low-bending as they flew, 
 Where sinking soil, and bush and tree, 
 Might best their screen and shelter be. 
 And issuing from the forest's verge, 
 Swift on their track the foemen urge ; 
 As beagles to the death-scent true, 
 They rushed, and as remorseless too ; 
 The English, for their brethren's blood, 
 Mohegans, for their ancient feud, 
 Seaconets, too, by treachery base, 
 Who hoped to win the conquerors' grace ; 
 How weak the web that treason wove, 
 When ruin followed if it throve ! 
 
 XX. 
 
 Then rose from that wild swamp the shout 
 That followed on the Indians' rout; 
 
 VOL. I. R R 
 
314 YAMOYDEI*. 
 
 And their mad yell of fear and wrath, 
 As the shot whistled o'er their path ; 
 And flame and smoke, far scattering, met 
 The lady's glance, who lingered yet 
 Above ; but then a film came o'er 
 Her sight, and she beheld no more. 
 A husband's death-cry in her ear 
 Came sadly, wildly ringing near ; 
 And from the mountain steep she sped r 
 Unknowing where her pathway led. 
 
 XXL 
 
 With that abrupt and steep descent^ 
 
 Her senses reeled, her breath was spent ; 
 
 But she was borne, in her giddy way, 
 
 To where the eastern ambush lay. 
 
 They marked her not, though near she came ; 
 
 Fixed was their gaze, intent their aim, 
 
 Where, lost in their uncertain dread, 
 
 A band confused of Indians fled, 
 
 Toward the forest bound ; 
 Quick paused they in their progress rash, 
 The thicket kindled with the flash, 
 
 And rung the musket sound. 
 Staggered, dismayed, the wildered band ; 
 Some idly drew, with trembling hand, 
 Their moose-strings wet ; the forest through 
 The arrowy shower in mockery flew ; 
 A few their deadlier arms employ, 
 But now as powerless to destroy ; 
 Then scattering, as the allied force 
 Uprose and urged upon their course. 
 
 Swift o'er the fen they fly ; 
 Yet NORA heard, above the rout r 
 The vollying shot and scream and shout, 
 
 Old ANNA WAN'S war-cry. 
 
YAMOYDEN. 315 
 
 He strove, with cheer, reproach, and threat, 
 His naked band to rally yet, 
 And yet the unequal conflict wage ; 
 But vain, stout heart ! thy gallant rage, 
 That well, on this sad field, became 
 The trophies of thine ancient fame ! 
 
 XXII. 
 
 Thus from the covert where she stood, 
 Vanished the motley multitude ; 
 One only here erect remained, 
 And moveless ; one alone disdained 
 To gnaw the toils his hunters spread, 
 But reared at bay his monarch head. 
 A white man and an Indian near, 
 Fronted and stayed his bold career ; 
 And scarce their muskets' length apart, 
 Stood, levelling at the warrior's heart. 
 Thus stopp'd he, barred in his advance ; 
 Firm on the twain he fixed his eye, 
 Fierce as the pouncing falcon's glance ; 
 His battle-axe he brandished high ; 
 Else all unarmed. An instant there 
 Paused in their purposed work the pair ; 
 So proud, in his defenceless state, 
 And terrible, he seemed to wait, 
 Himself to death to dedicate ! 
 Trembling, the white man first gave fire, 
 But saw in faithless flash expire 
 
 The engine's fatal store ; 
 " Thine is the chance the prize to gain," 
 
 He said, but spoke no more, 
 Ere, hurled with dexterous hand amain, 
 Sunk the fell tomahawk in his brain, 
 And down, a ghastly corse, he fell ! 
 Then straight a loud and joyous yell 
 
316 YAMOYDEN. 
 
 His Indian comrade gave : 
 *' A ghost had been incensed," he cried, 
 " If thou by other arm had'st died ! 
 
 This, from his gory grave, 
 Sends AGAMOUN !" he said, and true, 
 On their swift wings, the death balls flew. 
 A moment yet the SACHEM stood, 
 His right hand planted on his breast, 
 Where inward gushed the vital blood 
 And his attempted words suppressed. 
 AHAUTON marked his dying look, 
 ^peaking its stern and sad rebuke ; 
 Then in the moor's dank, miry bed, 
 Deep fell the indignant chieftain, dead ! 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 This in a moment's space was passM ; 
 But as around the wanderer cast 
 
 Her gaze, a vision came, 
 That drew, despite of toil and fear, 
 E'en to the verge of battle near 
 
 Her now exhausted frame. 
 Amid a roving band, alone, 
 Her father in the fen was thrown, 
 Now feeble waxed with age and toil ; 
 And scarce upon the slippery soil 
 He kept his footing ; while he held, 
 With strength surpassing that of eld, 
 
 The ruffian host at bay ; 
 A well-known voice salutes her ear, 
 E'en in that hurried scene most dear ; 
 A well-known form she marked among 
 That haggard, fierce, and desperate throng, 
 
 Round, howling for their prey ; 
 And, o'er her father's white hairs swung, 
 As high a murderous axe was hung, 
 
 jShe saw YAMOYDEN stay 
 
YAMOYDEN. 
 
 317 
 
 The lifted arm ; alas ! too late 
 
 To break the blow, impelled by fate ! 
 
 Averted from the old man's head, 
 
 On his own faithful breast it fell ! 
 
 A rescue comes, the Indians fled, 
 
 Far off the sounds of conflict swell ; 
 
 But never more, on battle field, 
 
 That valiant arm shall weapon wield ; 
 
 Nor, mid the combat's voices blending, 
 
 His cheering cry be heard ascending ! 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 Dying he lay ; and o'er him bent 
 FITZGERALD, now with kind intent. 
 As ebbed the living current fleet, 
 He whispered soothing comfort sweet, 
 Fraught with such heavenly nourishment, 
 Such chrism to the departing soul, 
 As amber gum to feverish vein ; 
 Deep in the mental wound it stole, 
 Forgotten then his mortal pain. 
 What form comes floating on his glance, 
 Brightest in that celestial trance ? 
 " Fair image of my blessed wife ! 
 Comest thou too, from the load of life 
 To loose the spirit's struggling wing, 
 And bid it upward, upward spring ? 
 Wilt thou not join me in that clime, 
 On whose far shore the waves of time 
 Fall with faint murmur as they flow ? 
 Our child farewell !" " YAMOYDEN, no ! 
 Alone thy spirit will not go. 
 We have not loved as those that woo, 
 Amid the spring-tide's laughing flowers, 
 And in green summer only true, 
 Part ere dark winter's chilling hours. 
 
318 YAMOYDEW. 
 
 Hearts, long in grief and danger tried, 
 Relenting death will ne'er divide i" 
 
 XXV. 
 
 Thus faintly murmuring, by his side 
 
 Exhausted sunk his faithful bride. 
 
 She strove, with her long locks unbound, 
 
 To stanch the grim and ghastly wound ; 
 
 Her husband's arms, with dying grasp, 
 
 Her lovely, wasted form enclasp ; 
 
 Her constant bosom to his breast 
 
 Closer and closer still he press'd ; 
 
 Her gaze met his, where every ray 
 
 Of earthly passion pass'd away ; 
 
 The glance of love, that conquers time, 
 
 Was blent with confidence sublime ; 
 
 As if on their departing view, 
 
 With heaven, that love was opening too ! 
 
 FITZGERALD, bending o'er them, brushed 
 
 Aside the tears that freely gushed. 
 
 " Farewell, misguided one !" he said, 
 
 " Dim light along thy path was shed ; 
 
 There may be mercy, even for thee ] 
 
 Thy child ; may heaven to me 
 
 Be kind as I to him shall be ! 
 
 May this thy parting hour be sweet ; 
 
 Thy wounded conscience healed ; 
 With unction of the Paraclete, 
 
 Thy soul's salvation sealed; 
 And may thy parted spirit meet 
 
 Thy Saviour's form revealed." 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 The old man's glance was heavenward cast, 
 As breathed that wish, the best, the last, 
 And strong and fervent was his prayer, 
 Communing with his Father there. 
 
 

 YAMOYDEN. 319 
 
 He viewed them as they lay reclined, 
 Their lips conjoint, their forms entwined. 
 They moved not, heaved not, breathed not, yet 
 It seemed the lovers' glances met. 
 He knelt, he strove his child to raise, 
 But vain the task the sire essays ; 
 He felt no struggle ; caught no sound ; 
 But to each other they were bound, 
 So close, that vain were all endeavour, 
 With aught that sacred clasp to sever, 
 
 Save sacrilegious knife; 
 The father gazed in anguish wild, 
 He press'd the bosom of his child, 
 
 There beat no pulse of life ! 
 

CONCLUSION. 
 
 SAD was the theme, which yet to try we chose, 
 In pleasant moments of communion sweet ; 
 When least we thought of earth's unvarnished woes, 
 And least we dreamed, in fancy's fond deceit, 
 That either the cold grasp of death should meet, 
 Till after many years, in ripe old age ; 
 Three little summers flew on pinions fleet, 
 And thou art living but in memory's page, 
 And earth seems all fo me a worthless pilgrimage. 
 
 Sad was our theme ; but well the wise man sung, 
 " Better than festal halls, the house of wo ;" 
 'Tis good to stand destruction's spoils among, 
 And muse on that sad bourne to which we go. 
 The heart grows better when tears freely flow ; 
 And, in the- many-coloured dream of earth, 
 One stolen hour, wherein ourselves we know, 
 Our weakness and our vanity, is worth 
 Years of unmeaning smiles, and lewd, obstreperous mirth. 
 
 'Tis good to muse on nations passed away, 
 For ever, from the land we call our own; 
 Nations, as proud and mighty in their day, 
 Who deemed that everlasting was their throne. 
 An age went by, and they no more were known T 
 Sublimer sadness will the mind control, 
 Listening time's deep and melancholy moan ; 
 And meaner griefs will less disturb the soul ; 
 And human pride falls low, at human grandeur's goal. 
 
 VOL. 
 
322 CONCLUSION. 
 
 PHILIP ! farewell ! thee KING, in idle jest, 
 Thy persecutors named ; and if in- deed r 
 The jewelled diadem thy front had press'd, 
 It had become thee better, than the breed 
 Of palaces, to sceptres that succeed, 
 To be of courtier or of priest the tool, 
 Satiate dull sense, or count the frequent bead, 
 Or pamper gormand hunger ; thou wouldst rule 
 Better than the worn rake, the glutton, or the fool I 
 
 I would not wrong thy warrior shade, could I 
 Aught in my verse or make or mar thy fame ; 
 As the light carol of a bird flown by, 
 Will pass the youthful strain that breathed thy name : 
 But in that land whence thy destroyers came, 
 A sacred bard thy champion shall be found ; 
 He of the laureate wreath for thee shall claim 
 The hero's honours, to earth's farthest bound, 
 Where Albion's tongue is heard, or Albion's songs resound. 
 
NOTES. 
 
 
 

 NOTES TO CANTO FIRST. 
 
 
 STANZA II. 
 
 The forest cinctured mountain stood. 
 
 Mount Hope appears to have been called by the Indians Mont Haup, or 
 Montaup ; and has been thence easily corrupted into its present name. It 
 has given occasion for many pleasant puns to Mr. Hubbard and Cotton 
 Mather. As when Philip fled there in his last exigency, it is called Mount 
 Hope, rather Mount Misery " Lucus a non lucendo," &c. It is called 
 Haup throughout the poem ; improperly, I believe Transeat cum cseteris. 
 The following description is pretty correct ; although somebody has been 
 playing a hoax upon the worthy meditator among the tombs ; first, as to the 
 name of the hill ; secondly, as to the fact of Philip's choosing the most con 
 spicuous situation he could possibly select when he most needed conceal 
 ment ; and, thirdly, as to the circumstance of his droll exhibition on the 
 occasion of his death. That there is no foundation for this tradition seems 
 evident from the account of Captain Church himself, extracted in the notes 
 to the Sixth Canto. 
 
 *' King Philip, as he is usually called, erected his wigwam on a lofty and 
 beautiful rise of land in the eastern part of Bristol, which is generally known 
 by the name of Mount Hope. According to authentic tradition, however, 
 Mon Top was the genuine aboriginal name of this celebrated eminence. To 
 this there was no doubt an appropriate meaning ; but it cannot, at present, 
 be easily ascertained. 
 
 " From the summit of this mount, which is, perhaps, less than three hun 
 dred feet* above high-water mark, it is said, that in a clear day every town in 
 Rhode-Island may be seen. The towering spires of Providence in one 
 direction, those of Newport in another, the charming village of Bristol, the 
 fertile island of Poppasquash, fields clothed with a luxuriant verdure as far as 
 the eye can stretch, irregular meandering waters intersecting the region to 
 
 ^ . 
 * By a late admeasurement it is not much more than two hundred. 
 
 
 
326 NOTES TO CANTO FIRST. 
 
 the west, Mount Hope bay on the east, and distant lands with various marks 
 of high cultivation, form, in the aggregate, a scene truly beautiful and 
 romantic. 
 
 " The late Lieutenant-Governor Bradford, in early life, knew an aged 
 squaw, who was one of Philip's tribe, was well acquainted with this saga 
 more in her youthful days, and had often been in his wigwam. The infor 
 mation through her is, therefore, very direct, as to the identical spot where 
 he fixed his abode. It was a few steps south of Captain James De Wolf's 
 summer-house, near the brow of the hill, but no vestige of the wigwam 
 remains. The eastern side of this hill is very steep, vastly more so than 
 that at Horse Neck, down which the intrepid Putnam trotted his sure-footed 
 steed, in manner worthy of a knight of the tenth century, in time of the revo 
 lutionary war, and wonderfully escaped his pursuing enemy. 
 
 " When Church's men were about to rush upon Philip, he is said to 
 have evaded them by springing from his wigwam as they were entering 
 it, and rolling, like a hogshead, down the precipice which looks towards 
 the bay. 
 
 " Having reached the lower part of this frightful ledge of rocks without 
 breaking his bones, he got upon his feet, and ran along the shore in a north 
 easterly direction about a hundred rods, and endeavoured to screen himself 
 in a swamp, then a quagmire, but now terra-firma. 
 
 " Here the sachem of Mon Top, long the magormissabib of the New- 
 England colonies, was shot, on the 12th of August, 1676, by Richard,* one 
 of his Indians, who had been taken a little before by the noted Captain 
 Church, and was become his friend and soldier. 
 
 11 The ledge of rocks, forming the precipice before mentioned, extends for 
 a considerable distance nearly parallel with the shore of the bay. In a cer 
 tain situation between the site of the wigwam and the place where Philip 
 received his death wound, and where the solid mass of quartz, which forms 
 the basis of Mon Top, is nearly perpendicular and forty or fifty feet high, is 
 a natural excavation of sufficient dimensions to afford a convenient seat. It 
 is five or six feet from the ground, and is known by the name of Philip's 
 Throne. A handsome grass plat of small extent lies before it. At the foot 
 of the throne is a remarkably fine spring of water, from which proceeds a 
 never-failing stream. This is called Philip's Spring. 
 
 " On that throne, tradition says, Philip used often to sit in regal style, 
 his warriors forming a semicircle before him, and give law to his nation." 
 Rev. T. Alden's Collection of Epitaphs, Pentade I., vol. iv. 
 
 Aquetnet Green. 
 
 Aquetnet was the Indian name for the island now called Rhode Island. 
 New-England's Memorial, 116. 
 
 * This was not his name. See the Notes to Canto VJ. 
 
NOTES TO CANTO FIRST. 327 
 
 Pocassefs Hills. 
 The Pocasset shore, now called Tiverton, is opposite Mount Hope. 
 
 STANZA IV. 
 
 Now two-score years of peace had puss'd, tyc. 
 
 " As for the rest of the Indians, ever since the suppression of the Pequoda, 
 in the year 1637, until the year 1675, there was always in appearance amity 
 and good correspondence on all sides ; scarce an Englishman was ever 
 known to be assaulted or hurt by any of them until after the year 1674," &c. 
 Hubbard's Narrative of the Indian Wars in New-England, <c. 
 
 Until the Pequods* empire fell. 
 
 " The Pequots, or Pequods, were a people seated in the most southerly 
 bounds of New-England ; whose country the English of Connecticut juris 
 diction doth now for the most part possess. This nation were a very war 
 like and potent people about forty years since ; at which time they were in 
 their meridian. Their chief sachem held dominion over divers petty saga 
 mores ; as over part of Long Island, over the Mohegans, and over the saga 
 mores of Quinapeake, yea, over all the people that dwelt upon Connecticut 
 river, and over some of the most southerly inhabitants of the Nipmuck 
 country, about Quinabaag. The principal sachem lived at or about Pequot, 
 now called New- London. These Pequots, as old Indians relate, could in 
 former times raise four thousand men fit for war ; and held hostility with 
 their neighbours that lived bordering upon them to the east and north, called 
 the Narragansitts, or Nechegansitts ; but now they are few, not above three 
 hundred men ; being made subject unto the English, who conquered and 
 destroyed most of them, upon their insolent deportment and just provocation, 
 anno 1638." Gookin's Historical Collections of the Indians in New-England ; 
 Jirst printed from the original manuscript, at Boston, in 1792. 
 
 " Historians have treated of the Pequots and Moheagans as two distinct 
 tribes, and have described the Pequot country as lying principally within 
 the three towns of New-London, Groton, and Kensington. All the tract 
 above this, as far north and east as has been described, they have represented 
 as the Moheagan country. Most of the towns in this tract, if not all of 
 them,, hold their lands by virtue of deeds from Uncas, or his successors, the 
 Moheagan sachems. It is, however, much to be doubted, whether the Mo 
 heagans were a distinct nation from the Pequots. They appear to have 
 been a part of the same nation, named from the place of their situation. 
 Uncas was evidently of the royal line of the Pequots, both by his father 
 and mother ; and his wife was daughter of Tatobam, one of the Pequot 
 sachems. Reappears to have been a petty sachem, under Sassacus, the 
 great prince of the nation. When the English first came to Connecticut, he 
 
328 NOTES TO CANTO FIRST. 
 
 was in a state of rebellion against him, and of little consequence among the 
 Indians. The Pequots were by far the most warlike nation in Connecticut, 
 or even in New-England, &c. Their principal fort was on a commanding 
 and most, beautiful eminence in the town of Groton, a few miles south 
 easterly from Fort Griswold. This was the royal fortress, where the chief 
 sachem had his residence. He had another fort near Mystic river, a few 
 miles to the eastward of this, called Mystic fort. The Pequots, Moheagans, 
 and Nehantics, could doubtless muster a thousand bowmen." TrumbuWs 
 History of Connecticut, vol. i., p. 42. 
 
 " The Mahiccanni," says Mr. Heckewelder, " have been called by so 
 many names that I was at a loss which to adopt, eo that the reader might 
 know what people were meant. Lookiel calls them ' Mohicans,' which is 
 nearest to their real name Mahiccanni, which, of course, I have adopted. 
 The Dutch called them Mahicanders ; the French Mourigans, and Mahin- 
 gans ; the English, Mohiccons, Mohuccans, Mohegans, Muhheekanew, 
 Schaticooks, River Indians. 
 
 They are called Muhhekaneews, by Dr. Edwards, in his " Observations" 
 on their language, published at New- York, 1801. The old historians of 
 New-England term them Moheags, Moheaks, and Mohegins, &c. I have 
 adopted in the text the mode of writing it which seemed most euphonious. 
 These people were one of the most martial and important tribes of the great 
 family to which the Delawares belonged, called Lenopi by Mr. Jefferson, in 
 his " Notes on Virginia," and Lenni Lenape,* by Mr. Heckewelder. The 
 latter author agrees with the venerable historian of Connecticut, as to the 
 Mohicans being the same race with the Pequods. 
 
 Until the Pequots' empire fell, $c. 
 
 1 have thought it necessary to make the foregoing extracts in relation to 
 the people, who, after their decisive overthrow, mentioned in the text, always 
 took part with the English against Philip: But as the events, recapitulated 
 in the fourth and sixth following stanzas, were merely premised, as explana 
 tory of the allusions made in the poem, it is unnecessary to give much more 
 than references to the authors who have recorded them. 
 
 And Sassacous, $c. 
 
 The name of the Pequod sagamore is thus written, without the diseresis, 
 by the Rev. Mr. Hubbard. The accent is, however, placed on the first syl 
 lable, in a poem by Governor Winthrop, preserved in the " Collections of the 
 Massachusetts Historical Society." " At Sassacus' dread name," &c. 
 
 The Pequods quarrelled with the colonists at an early period of the settle 
 ment : and, after a hollow treaty of peace, which they entered into in the 
 year 1636, they protected certain of the Narragansetts who had murdered 
 
 * Meaning airoriginal ppople, avr 
 
NOTES TO CANTO FIRST; 329 
 
 seme of the English on Block-Island. This led to a war, in the course of 
 which the Narragansetts, with the versatile and jealous policy of Indian 
 nations, made their own peace with the English, and refused to assist the 
 Pequods. They appear, however, to have experienced some compunction 
 when the Pequod fort was attacked by the English on the 26th May, 1637 ; 
 when, after a vigorous and desperate resistance by the savages, the fort was 
 fired by Captain Mason's men, sixty or seventy wigwams burnt, and seven 
 hundred of the miserable Pequods destroyed. The Narragansetts were 
 mere spectators on this occasion; They either felt, or pretended, an uncon 
 querable fear of Sassacus, whom they called invincible ; saying, " he was 
 all one god." Uncas, sachem of the Mohegans, who, as has been already 
 mentioned, was in a state of revolt against the great sagamore when the 
 English first settled in Connecticut, was their guide to the fortress of his 
 enemy ; and ever after, with wary and more consistent policy than belonged 
 to his brethren, adhered to the interests of his new allies. Sassacus fled to 
 the Mohocks (termed Mohogs and Maquas* by the old historians), who mur 
 dered him and sent his scalp to the conquerors. See TrumbuWs History of 
 Connecticut, and the authorities there quoted ; also Hubbard's Narrative of the 
 Troubles with the Indians, first published, by authority, at Boston, 1677. 
 New-England' '* Memorial, Boston printed, Newport reprinted, 1777. Prince's 
 Chronological History of New-England, Boston, 1736. Mather's Magnolia, 
 Book VII. $c. 
 
 Till Metacom his war-dance held. 
 
 " The Paukanawkutts were a great people heretofore. They lived to the 
 eust and northeast of the Narragansitts ; and their chief sachem held 
 dominion over divers other petty sagamores, upon the island of Nantuckett, 
 and Nope, or Martha's Vineyard, of Nawsett, of Mannamoyk, of Sawkat- 
 tukett, Nobsquasitt, Matakees and several others, and some of the Nipmucks. 
 Their country, for the most part, falls within the jurisdiction of New- 
 Plimouth colony. This people were a potent nation in former times ; and 
 could raise, as the most credible and ancient Indians affirm, about three 
 thousand men. They held war with the Narragansitts, &c. This nation, 
 a very great number of them, were swept away by an epidemical and un 
 wonted sickness, an. 1612 and 1613, about seven or eight years before the 
 English arrived in those parts to settle the colony of New-Plimouth. Thereby 
 Divine Providence made way for the peaceable and quiet settlement of the 
 English in those nations. What this disease was that so generally and 
 mortally swept away, not only those, but other Indians, their neigh 
 bours, I cannot well learn. Doubtless it was some pestilential disease. I 
 
 * Maqua in the Mohegan tongue, which is the same with the Chippeway and Algonquin, 
 means bear. See the vocabularies in Dr. Edwards's " Observations," " Carver's Travels," 
 and the Appendix to Baron Le Hontan. So, Mahingan means a wolf; and their tribe was 
 called Les Loups by the French, according to Mr. Jefferson. 
 
 VOL, I. T T 
 
330 NOTES TO CA&TO FIRST. 
 
 have discoursed with some old Indians, that were then youths ; who say> 
 that the bodies all over were exceeding yellow, describing it by a yellow gar 
 ment they showed me, both before they died, and afterward." Gookin. 
 
 Of this people, the Wampanoags, or Wampanoogs, &c. (as it is differently 
 written), seem to have been the immediate clan or family of old Massasoit, 
 or Massasoiet, or Woosamequen,* the father of Metacom, or Metacomet,t 
 called King Philip by the English. The latter, however, signs his treaties, 
 " Philip, Sachem of Pokanoket, his mark, P." 
 
 " When Plimouth colony was first planted, within three monettes after 
 their first landing, March 16, 1620, Massasoit, the chief sachem of all that 
 side of the country, repaired to the English at Plimouth, and entered into a 
 solemn league upon sundry articles, printed in N. E. Memorial, 1669, p. 24. 
 The words are as folio weth," &c. Hubbard, old edition 7. Edition of 1814, 
 p. 56. 
 
 " The which league the same sachim, Sept. 25, 1630,1: a little before his 
 death, coming with his eldest son [Mooanam or Wamsutla], afterward called 
 Alexander, did renew with the English at the court of Plimouth, for himself 
 and his son, and their heirs and successors ; and after that he came to- 
 Mr. Brown's, that lived not far from Mount Hope, bringing his two sons, 
 Alexander and Philip, with him, desiring that there might be love and amity 
 after his death between his sons and them, as there had been betwixt him 
 self and them in former times : yet it is very remarkable that this Massasoit, 
 called also Woosamequen (how much soever he affected the English, yet) 
 was never in the least degree any wayes well affected to the religion of the 
 English, but would have had them engaged never to attempt to draw away 
 any of his people from their old Pagan superstition and devilish idolatry,'* 
 &c. Idem. 
 
 " After the death of this Woosamequen, or Massasoit [about 1656], his 
 eldest son succeeded him about twenty years since, Alexander byname, 
 who, notwithstanding the league he had entered into with the English, 
 together with his father, in the year 1639, had neither affection to the Eng 
 lishmen's persons, nor yet to their religion, but had been plotting with the 
 Narhagansets to rise against the English, of which the governour and council 
 of Plimouth being informed, they presently sent for him to bring him to the 
 court ; the person to whom that service was committed was a prudent arwl 
 resolute gentleman, the present governour of the said colony, who was nei 
 ther afraid of danger, nor yet willing to delay in a matter of that moment. 
 
 * The Indians were in the habit of changing their names at their great war dances. Thus 
 Canonchet was afterward called Nanunteno. 
 
 f Printed, I suppose, hy mistake, Metamocet, in the Analectic Magazine, containing the life 
 of Philip, by Mr. Irving. See Increase Matter's Brief History of the Warr, &c. Boston, 
 1676. 
 
 t Should be 1639, as Hubbard ban it himself in the next page, and as it is in N. E. Memo 
 rial. The error la not corrected in the new edition of Hubbard. 
 
NOTES TO CANTO FIRST. 
 
 331 
 
 He forthwith, taking eight or ten stout men with him well armed, intended 
 to have gone to the said Alexander's dwelling," distant at least forty miles 
 from the governour's house, but by a good providence he found him whom he 
 went to seek at an hunting-house, within six miles of the English towns, 
 where the said Alexander, with about eighty men, were newly come in 
 from hunting, and had left their guns without doors, which Major Winslow, 
 with his small company, wisely seized, and conveyed away, and then went 
 into the wigwam, and demanded Alexander to go along with him before the 
 governour, at which message he was much appalled, but being told by the 
 undaunted messenger, that if he stirred or refused to go he was a dead man; 
 he was, by one of his chief counsellors, in whose advice he most confided, 
 perswaded to go along to the governour's house, but such was the pride and 
 height of his spirit, that the very surprizal of him raised his choler and indig 
 nation, that it put him into a feaver, which, notwithstanding all possible 
 means that could be used, seemed mortal ; whereupon intreating those that 
 held him prisoner, that he might have liberty to return home, promising to 
 return again if he recovered, and to send his son as hostage till he could do 
 so; on that consideration he was fairly dismissed, but dyed before he got 
 half-way home." Idem. Our author then makes a sort of apology for the 
 treatment of Alexander. He says it was never urged as a cause of offence 
 by the said Alexander's brother, by name Philip, commonly for his ambitious 
 and haughty spirit nicknamed King Philip. Nothing, he says, could have 
 induced the said Philip to make war on the English, " besides the instiga 
 tion of Satan, that either envied at the prosperity of the Church of God 
 here seated, or else fearing lest the power of the Lord Jesus, that had ever- 
 thrown his kingdome in other parts of the world, should do the like here, 
 and so the stone taken out of the mountain without hands should become a 
 great mountain itself, and fill the whole earth, no cause of provocation being 
 given by the English." 
 
 Thus died of a broken heart the proud-spirited brother of Philip. Cotton 
 Mather, who treats the Netops, as he calls them, with very little ceremony, 
 condescends to mention, that " Alexander was treated with no other than 
 that humanity and civility which was always essential to the major-general ; 
 nevertheless, the inward fury of his own guilty and haughty mind threw him 
 into such a fever as cost him his life." Magnolia, Book VII. Ecclesianum 
 prcelia, or the Wars of the Lord, p. 45, a. and b. 
 
 To him succeeded Metacom, or King Philip, anno 1662 ; " who," as the 
 learned, but quaint, annalist goes on to state, " after he had solemnly 
 renewed his covenant of peace with the English, most perfidiously broke it 
 by making an attempt of war upon them in the year 1671, wherein being sea 
 sonably and effectually defeated, he humbly confessed his breach of covenant, 
 and subscribed articles of submission, &c. Indeed, when the Duke of 
 Archette, at his being made governour of Antwerpe castle, took an oath to 
 keep it faithfully for King Philip of Spain ; the officer that gave him his oath 
 
332 NOTES TO CANTO FIRST. 
 
 used these odd words, If you perform what you promise, God help you ; if 
 you do it not, the devil take you body and soul ! And all the standers by 
 cried, Amen. But when the Indian King Phitip took an oath to be faithful 
 unto the government of New-England, nobody used these words unto him ; 
 nevertheless, you shall anon see whether these words were not expressive 
 enough of what became of him." Idem, p. 45, b. 
 
 It would be too troublesome, as well as unnecessary, to give even a sketch 
 of the life of Philip up to the time when the poem commences. A connected 
 account of the sachem's adventures may be found in Mather's Magnolia, 
 Increase Mather's Brief History, &c. ,- Hutchinsorfs History of Massachu-, 
 setts, vol. i. ; and Trumbull's History of Connecticut, vol. i. The following 
 note in Holmes' s American Annals does justice to his character, and makes 
 proper allowance for the measures taken by the English. 
 
 " The death of Philip, in retrospect, makes different impressions from 
 what were made at the time of the event. It was then considered as the 
 extinction of a virulent and implacable enemy ; it is now viewed as the fall 
 of a great warrior, a penetrating statesman, and a mighty prince. It then 
 excited universal joy and congratulation, as a prelude to the close of a mer 
 ciless war ; it now awakens sober reflections on the instability of empire, the 
 peculiar destiny of the aboriginal race, and the inscrutable decrees of 
 Heaven. The patriotism of the man was then overlooked in the cruelty of 
 the savage ; and little allowance was made for the natural jealousy of the 
 sovereign, on account of the barbarities of the warrior. Philip, in the pro-? 
 gress of the English settlements, foresaw the loss of his territory, and the 
 extinction of his tribe ; and made one mighty effort to prevent those calami 
 ties. Our pity for his misfortunes would be still heightened, could we entirely 
 rely on the tradition (mentioned by Calendar, 73), that Philip and his chief 
 old men were at first averse to the war ; that Philip wept with grief at the 
 news of the first English who were killed ; and that he was pressed into the 
 measures by the irresistible importunity of his young warriors. The assur 
 ance, on the other hand, of the equity of our ancestors, in giving the natives 
 an equivalent for their lands, is highly consoling. The upright and pious 
 Governor Winslow, in a letter dated at Marsfield, 1st May, 1676, observes ; 
 I think I can clearly say, that before these present troubles broke out, the 
 English did not possess one foot of land in this colony, but what was fairly 
 obtained by honest purchase of the Indian proprietors. We first made a 
 law that none should purchase, or receive of gift, any land of the Indians, 
 without the knowledge and allowance of our court. And lest yet they should 
 be streightened, we ordered that Mount Hope, Pocasset, and several other 
 necks of the best land in the colony, because most suitable and convenient for 
 them, should never be bought out of their hands.' See Hubbard's Narrative 
 (where this important letter is inserted entire), and Hazard, Coll. ii. 531-^ 
 534." Holmes's American Annals, vol. i. p. 365. 
 Whatever wrongs Philip may have sustained during his life, from thp 
 
NOTES TO CAf^TO FIRST. 333 
 
 arms and pens of his enemies, it seems that his shade will be fully propi 
 tiated in the present day. He will have Mr. Southey for his bard ; and has 
 already had Mr. Irving for his biographer. To those who have had occa-> 
 sion to examine the rude annals of the earlier settlers in the east, it must 
 surely be a matter of admiration to see with what facility and grace the 
 author of Knickerbocker has extricated and made use of all the prominent 
 and interesting particulars in the history of that period. 
 
 ~-;'^!& 
 
 : Ti < ' .' ' i 
 
 Fiercely they trim their crested hair. 
 
 " Then she called for the Mount Hope men, who made a formidable 
 appearance, with their faces painted, and their hair trimmed up in comb- 
 fashion, with their powder-horns and shot-bags at their backs ; which among 
 that nation is the posture and figure of preparedness for war." Thomas 
 Church's " Entertaining History of King Philip's War," &c. Boston, 1716. 
 Newport, reprinted, 1772. By comb-fashion, is meant a crest, from the fore 
 head to the back of the head. " The priests in Secota," says Purchas, 
 " haue their haire on the crowne like a combe, the rest being cut from it : 
 only a foretop on their forehead is left, and that combe. They are great 
 wisards." Purchases Pilgrim, Part 3d t p. 949. " Table 2, is an Indian 
 man in his summer dress. The upper part of his hair is cut short, to make 
 a ridge which stands up like the comb of a cock, the rest is either shorn off, 
 or knotted behind his ear." History of Virginia, second edition, London, 
 1822 ; said in a manuscript note, in the copy belonging to the New-York 
 Historical Library, to be by one Robert Beverly. 
 
 Their peag belts. 
 
 The author last mentioned calls the wampum beads peak ; it is generally 
 written peag. " The women of distinction," says he, " wear deep neck 
 laces, pendants, and bracelets, made of small cylinders of the conque-shell, 
 which they call peak." The white beads were made from the hollow of 
 conchs ; the purple, which were most prized, from muscle-shells. They 
 were strung on leather. Golden* s History of the Five Nations. Heckewelder, 
 /&c. And see a subsequent note to this Canto. 
 
 STANZA V. 
 
 The red fire is blazing. 
 
 It being now about sun-setting, or near the dusk of the evening, the 
 Netops came running from all quarters loaden with the tops of dry pines, 
 and the like combustible matter, making a huge pile thereof, near Mr. 
 Ohurch's shelter, on the open side thereof; but by this time supper was 
 brought in, &c. ; but by the time supper was over, the mighty pile of 
 pine knots and tops, &c. was fired, and all the Indians, great and small, 
 

 334 NOTES TO CANTO FIRST. 
 
 gathered in a ring round it. Awashonks, with the oldest of her people, men 
 and women mixed, kneeling down, made the first ring next the fire, and all 
 the lusty stout men, standing up, made the next, and then all the rabble in 
 a confused crew surrounded on the outside. Then the chief captain stepped 
 in between the rings and the fire, with a spear in one hand, and a hatchet 
 in the other, danced round the fire, and began to fight with it, making men 
 tion of all the several nations and companies of Indians in the country that 
 were enemies to the English ; and at naming of every tribe, he would draw 
 out and fight a new fire-brand, and at finishing his fight with each particular 
 fire-brand, would bow to him and thank him ; and when he had named all 
 the several nations and tribes, he stuck down his spear and hatchet, and 
 came out ; and another stept in and acted over the same dance, with more 
 fury, if possible, than the first ; and when about half a dozen of their chiefs 
 had thus acted their parts, the captain of the guard stept up to Mr. Church, 
 and told him, * They were making soldiers for him, 1 " &c. Church's History, 
 p. 49, 50. 
 
 The hills of Pocasset replied to the catty 
 And their queen, $c. 
 
 Weetamoe, the sunk* squaw, or squaw sachem of the Pocassets, was a 
 kinswoman of Philip. Captain Church was hard beset by her people, at the 
 breaking out of the war. She is not to be confounded with Awashonks, squaw 
 sachem of the Seaconets, who dwelt southerly from the Pocasset Indians. 
 
 STANZA VI. 
 
 Through Narraganset's countless clan. 
 
 " East of Connecticut were the Narraganset Indians : these were a 
 numerous and powerful body. When the English settled Plymouth, their 
 fighting men were reckoned at three or four thousand ; fifty years after this 
 time they were estimated at two thousand. The Pequots and Narragansets 
 maintained perpetual war, and kept up an implacable animosity between 
 them." Trumbull, I. 43. This jealousy was a great source of safety to the 
 English, both in the Pequot war, when they were joined by the Narragan 
 sets, and in the war with Philip, when the Pequods (or Mohegans) assisted 
 them in exterminating the Narragansets. The Niantics, or Nehantics, were 
 a branch of the Narragansets who joined the English interest, under their 
 sachem Aganemo. For a further account of the Narragansets, see Gookin. 
 
 The tributary Nipnets heard. 
 
 " On the northeasterly and northern part of the colony were the Nipmuck 
 Indians. Their principal seat was about the great ponds in Oxford, in 
 
 * Written tnuke in the very incorrect modem edition of Hubbard. 
 
XOTES TO CANTO FIRST. 335 
 
 Massachusetts, but their territory extended southward into Connecticut 
 more thari twenty miles." Trumbull, I. 43. These people are also called 
 Nipnets by Hubbard ; it has been already mentioned Hhat they were tribu 
 tary to the Pawkanawkutts. The situation of all these tribes is thus briefly 
 given by Hubbard. " The seacoast, from the pitch of Cape Cod ta the 
 mouth of Connecticut river, [was] inhabited by several nations of Indians, 
 Wampanoogs (the first authors of the present rebellion), Narragansetts, 
 Pequods, Mohegins, and the more inland part of the country by the Nipnets 
 (a general name for all inland Indians betwixt the Massachusetts and Con 
 necticut river)." 
 
 STANZA VII. 
 
 But Sausaman untimely slain. 
 
 Sausaman was the son of Christian Indians, but apostatized, and became 
 King Philip's secretary, who, as Dr. Mather sarcastically remarks, could 
 not even read. A letter dictated by Philip, and written by Sausaman, is 
 preserved in the collections of the Massachusetts Historical Society, vol. ii. 
 p. 40. Sausaman afterward returned to the English, and became an 
 instructer among the Indians. In the year 1674, he informed the governor 
 of Plymouth that Philip was plotting with all the Indian nations, to destroy 
 the English. Little notice was taken of this communication at first. But 
 Sausaman was soon after found murdered on Assawamsett pond, at a place 
 now called Middleborough, Massachusetts. When he was missed, the 
 neighbours sought for and found the dead body, which had been put under 
 a hole in the ice ; but his hat and gun, being left, led to the discovery. A 
 jury was impanelled," says C. Mather, " and it was remarkable, that one 
 Tobias, a counsellor of King Philip's, whom they suspected as the author 
 of this murder, approaching to the dead'body, it w'ould still fall a bleeding 
 afresh, as if it had been newly slain, &c. Afterward an Indian, called 
 Patuckson, gave his testimony, that he saw this Tobias, with certain other 
 Indians, killing of John Sausaman, &c. Hereupon Tobias, with two other 
 Indians, being apprehended, they were, after a fair trial, by a jury consisting 
 half of English and half of Indians, convicted, and so condemned ; and 
 though they were all successively turned off the ladder at the gallows, utterly 
 denying the fact, yet the last of them happening to break or slip the rope, 
 did, before his going off the ladder again, confess that the other Indians did 
 really murder John Sausaman, and that he was himself, though no actor in 
 it, yet a looker on. Things began by this time to have an ominous aspect." 
 Math. Magnalia, VII. 46. a. See also Hubbard, new edition, 66-71. 
 Church, 9. Increase Mather, 2, and the Postscript to the same ; also the 
 Postscript in the old edition of Hubbard, apologizing for the justness of the 
 war, &c. 
 
NOTES T<7 CANTO FIRST. 
 
 " Philip, conscious to his own guilt, pusht on the execution of his plot ad 
 fast as he could ; he armed his men, and sent away their women [to the Nar- 
 ragansets], and entertained many strange Indians that flocked in unto him 
 from several parts of the country, and began to be tumultuous." C. Mather 
 ubi supra. i , U \ 
 
 Thus broke out King Philip's war, which terminated in almost the total 
 extermination of his allies. Happily for the settlers, it commenced prema 
 turely. The sachem's plans were -general, and deeply laid. The Narra- 
 gansets had promised to rise with four thousand men, according to Hub- 
 bard. It is unnecessary to make any particular references on the miseries 
 of war, alluded to in Stanza VII. 
 
 STANZA VIII. 
 
 Till Narragansefs fortress blazed. 
 
 In the winter of 1675-6 the commissioners of the United Colonies detef- 
 mined to attack the Narraganset fortress, situated near Pawcatuck river, 
 " on an elevated ground, or piece of upland, of perhaps three or four acres, 
 in the middle of a hideous swfimp ; about seven miles nearly due west from 
 Narraganset south ferry." Church, 29. The following account of that 
 tragical business is the most full and perspicuous. 
 
 " The next morning (Dec. 19th), at the dawning of the day, they com 
 menced their march towards the enemy, who were in a swamp at about 
 fifteen miles distance. The troops proceeded with great spirit, wading 
 through the snow, in a severe season, until nearly one o'clock, without fire 
 to warm or food to refresh them, except what had been taken on the way. 
 At this time they had arrived just upon the seat of the enemy* This was 
 upon a rising ground, in the centre of a large swamp. It was fortified with 
 palisades, and compassed with a hedge without, nearly of a rod's thickness. 
 The only entrance which appeared practicable was over a log, or tree, 
 which lay up five or six feet from the ground. This opening was com 
 manded in front by a kind of log-house, and on the left by a flanker. As 
 soon as the troops entered the skirts of the swamp, they discovered an 
 advanced party of the enemy, upon whom they immediately fired. The 
 enemy returned the fire, and retired before them, until they were led to the 
 very entrance by the block-house. Without reconnoitering the fort, or 
 waiting for the army to march up and form for the attack, the Massachusetts 
 troops, led on by their officers with great courage, mounted the tree and 
 entered the fort ; but they were so galled from the block-house, and received 
 such a furious and well-directed fire from almost every quarter, that after 
 every exertion of skill and courage of which they were capable, they were 
 obliged to retreat out of the fort. The whole army pressed forward with 
 the utmost courage and exertion, but such were the obstructions from the 
 
NOTES TO CANTO FIRST. 387 
 
 swamp and the snow, that "it was a considerable time before-the men could 
 all be brought up to action. Captains Johnson and Davenport, and many 
 brave men of the Massachusetts, were killed. The Connecticut troops, who 
 formed in the rear, coming up to the charge, mounted over the log before the 
 blockhouse, the captains leading and spiriting up the men in the most un 
 daunted manner. About the same time that the main iody of the Con 
 necticut troops were forcing -their way by the blockhouse, a few bold men 
 ran round to the opposite ptirt of the fort, where they found a narrow spot 
 where there were no palisades, but a high and thick hedge of trees and 
 brush. The sharpness of the action in the front had drawn off the enemy 
 from this part, and climbing over unobserved, they ran down between the 
 wigwams, and poured a heavy and well-directed fire upon the backs of the 
 enemy, who lay wholly exposed to their shot. Thus assaulted in front and 
 rear, they were driven from the flanker and blockhouse. The captains cry 
 ing out, they run, they run, the men pressed so furiously upon them that they 
 were forced from that part of the fort. The soldiers without rushed in with 
 great spirit, and the enemy were driven from one covert and- hiding-place 
 to another, until the middle of the fort was gained ; and after a long and 
 bloody action they were totally routed, and fled into the wilderness. As 
 they retired, the soldiers set fire to the wigwams, about six hundred of which 
 were instantly consumed. The enemy's corn, stores, and utensils, with 
 many of their old men, women, and children, perished 4n the conflagration. 
 It was supposed that three hundred warriors were slain, besides many 
 wounded, who afterward died of their wounds and with the cold. Nearly 
 the same number were taken, with three hundred women and children. 
 From the number of wigwams in the fort, it is probable that the whole 
 number of the Indians was nearly four thousand. Those who were not 
 killed in battle, or did not perish in the flames, fled to a cedar swamp, where 
 they spent the night without food, fire, or covering> It was, nevertheless, a 
 dearly-bought victory. Six brave captains fell in the action, and eighty 
 men were killed or mortally wounded. A hundred and fifty were wounded, 
 who afterward recovered. After the fatiguing march, and hard- fought battle 
 of three hours, in which the troops had been exercised, the army, just at 
 the setting of the sun, having burnt and destroyed all in their power, left 
 the enemy's ground ; and carrying about two hundred dead and wounded 
 men, marched back, sixteen or eighteen miles, to head-quarters. The night 
 was very cold and stormy. The snow fell deep, and it was not until mid 
 night, or after, that the army got in. Many of the wounded, who otherwise 
 might have recovered, died with the cold," &c. TrumluWs History of 
 Connecticut, vol. i. p. 338-340. See also Mather's Magnalia, 49, 50. 
 Hubbard, 130-133. Increase Mather, 20. Captain Church was severely 
 wounded in this action. " He was struck with three bullets, one on his 
 thigh, which was near half cut off as it glanced on the joint of his hip-bone ; 
 another through the gatherings of his breeches and drawers, with e small 
 VOL. I. UF 
 
338 NOTES TO CANTO FIRST. 
 
 flesh-wound ; a third pierced his pockets, and wounded a pair of mittens 
 that he had borrowed of Captain Prentice ; being wrapped up together, had 
 the misfortune of having many holes cut through them with one bullet ; 
 however, he made shift to keep on his legs," &c. Church, 27. This kind 
 of defensive armour seems to have been not unusual in those chivalrous 
 days. " Mr. Gill was struck with a musket-ball on the side of his belly ; 
 but being clad with a buff coat, and some thickness of paper under it, it 
 never broke his skin." -Church, 11. 
 
 STANZAS IX. and X. 
 
 TiU of the tribes wham rage at first, &c. 
 
 The jealousies of the confederated Indians among themselves hastened 
 their separation, and consequent destruction in detail. " This quarrel pro 
 ceeded to that height, that from that time forward those several Indians' 
 that had for so long a time been combined together resolved now to part, 
 and every one to shift for themselves, and return to their own homes ; Philip 
 to Mount Hope, and , the Narragansets to their own country again; the 
 Nipnets and the River [Connecticut] Indians bending their course west 
 ward, others northward," &c. Hubbar.d, 211. C. Mather says their demons 
 deserted them. See notes to Canto III. 
 
 Of the once powerful 1 nation of the Narragansets, Mr. Hubbard, imme 
 diately after the war, says, " there is none of them left on that side of the 
 country, unless some few, not exceeding seventy in number, that have shel 
 tered themselves under the inhabitants of Rhode-Island, as a merchant of 
 that place, worthy of credit, lately affirmed to the writer hereof. It is con 
 sidered by what degrees they have been consumed and destroyed." 
 Hubbard, new edit., p. 158. Most of the persecuted tribes went westward, 
 and were never heard of thereafter. Some settled among the Moheagans, on 
 the Hudson river. An incredible number were executed at different places, 
 
 Those who in slavery's galling chain, &c. 
 
 " After this," says Church, " Dartmouth's distresses required succour, 
 great part of the town being laid desolate, and many of the inhabitants killed ; 
 the most of Plymouth forces were ordered thither ; and coming to Russel's 
 garrison at Ponoganset, they met with a number of the enemy that had surren 
 dered themselves prisoners on terms promised by Captain Eels of the gar 
 rison, and Ralph Earl, who persuaded them (by a friend Indian he had em 
 ployed) to come in. And had their promises to the Indians been kept, and 
 the Indians fairly treated, it is probable that most, if not aH the Indians in 
 those forts had soon followed the example of the Indians who had now sur- 
 rend6red themselves ; which would have been a good step towards finishing 
 the war. But in spite of all that Captains Eels, Church, or Ear}, could say, 
 
NOTES TO CANTO FIRST. 
 
 argue, plead, or beg, somebody else that had more power in their hands 
 improved it ; and without any regard to the promises made them on their 
 surrendering themselves, they were carried away to Plymouth, there sold, 
 and transported out of the country, being about eight-score persons" 
 
 In another place, the narrator says, " They met the general, and pre 
 sented him with eighteen of the enemy they had captived. The general, 
 pleased with the exploit, gave them thanks, particularly to Mr. Church, the 
 mover and chief actor of the business, and sending two of them (likely boys) 
 a present to Boston ; smiling at Mr. Church, told him that he made no doubt 
 his faculty would supply them with Indian boys enough before the war was 
 ended." 
 
 Again ; " Captain Church hastening with his prisoners through the 
 woods, to Plymouth, disposed of them all, except only one Jeffery, who 
 proved very ingenuous and faithful to him, in informing him where other 
 parcels of Indians harboured," &c. E. 
 
 STANZA XI. 
 
 When -all whom, kin or friendship made 
 To his fallen fortunes dear, were dead. 
 
 Philip's uncle Uncompoen, sometimes called Uncomdaen,* was slain July 
 31st, 1676, and his sister taken prisoner at the same time. On the 2d o^ 
 August, he narrowly escaped from Captain Church, leaving his peag, wife 
 and son. His friends of any distinction among the other tribes had been 
 killed before, viz., Canonchet, Pomham, Matoonas, &o. 
 
 ... ~* * 
 
 And bullets whispered death was near. 
 
 Among Philip's other hairbreadth deliverances, the following is recorded 
 by Captain Church ; it happened on Taunton river, near Bridgewater. 
 " Next morning Captain Church moved very early with his company, which 
 was increased by many of Bridgewater that enlisted under him for that 
 expedition, and by their piloting, soon came very still to the top of the great 
 tree which the enemy had fallen across the river ; and the captain spy'd an 
 Indian sitting on the stump of it on the other side of the river, and he 
 clapp'd his gun up, and had doubtless despatched him, but that 'one of his 
 own Indians called hastily to him not to fire, for he believed it was one of 
 their own men ; upon which the Indian upon the stump looked about, and 
 Captain Church's Indian seeing his face, perceived his mistake, for he 
 knew him to be Philip, clapp'd up his gun and fired, but it was too late, for 
 Philip immediately threw himself off the stump, leap'd down a bank on the 
 side of the river, and made his escape." Church, 62. 
 
 * Akkompoin, according to Church. 
 
340 NOTES TO CANTO FIRST. 
 
 STANZA XII. 
 
 South from the tangled swamp that spread , . , 
 
 Below the mourit, an upland rose,. 
 
 M Philip was now upon a little spot of upland, that was in the south end 
 of the miry swamp, just at the foot of the mount, which was a spot of ground 
 that Captain Church was well acquainted with." Idem, 70. 
 
 So spreads beneath the liquid surge. 
 
 " The Indians," says C. Mather, " covered themselves with green boughs, 
 a subtilty of the same nature, though not of the same colour, that they affirm 
 to be used by the cuttle-fish." 
 
 STANZA XIII. 
 
 The Paniese. 
 
 " The counsellors of the Indian kings in New-England were termed the 
 Paniese. These were not only the wisest, but largest and bravest men to 
 be found among their subjects. They were the immediate guard of their 
 respective sachems* who made neither war nor peace, nor attempted any 
 weighty affair, without their advice." " These paniese, or ministers of 
 state, were in league with the priests, or powaws. To keep the people in 
 awe, they pretended, as well as the priests, to have converse with the 
 invisible world, and that Hobbamock* often appeared to them." Trumbull. 
 
 STANZA XIV. 
 
 When in his royalties he sate, 
 
 " The moon now shining bright, he saw him [Annawon] at a distance 
 coming with something in his hands, and coming up to Captain Church, he 
 fell upon his knees before him, and offered him what he had brought, and 
 speaking in plain English, said, " Great Captain, you have killed Philip, 
 and conquered his country ; for I believe that I and my company are the 
 last that war against the English, so suppose the war is ended by your 
 means ; and therefore these things belong unto you." Then opening his 
 pack, he pulled out Philip's belt, curiously wrought with wompom, being 
 nine inches broad, wrought with black and white wompom, in various 
 figures and flowers, and pictures of many birds and beasts. This, when 
 hung upon Captain Church's shoulders, reached his ankles ; and another 
 
 * Supposed by the English to be (lie devil. See Notes to Canto IV. 
 
NOTES TO CANTO FIRST. 341 
 
 belt of wompom he presented him with, wrought after the former manner, 
 which Philip was wont to put upon his head ; it had two flags on the back 
 part, which hung down on his back ; and another small belt with a star 
 upon the end of it, which he used to hang on his breast ; and they were all 
 edged with red hair, which Annawon said they got in the Mohog's country. 
 Then he pulled out two 'horns of glazed powder, and a red cloth blanket. 
 He told Captain Church these were Philip's royalties, which he was wont to 
 adorn himself with when he sat in state." Churchy p. 84. I have seen a 
 cape made of feathers, said to have been Philip's, and a pouch of the same 
 materials, at Brown College, in Providence. The Antiquarian Society in 
 Rhode-Island profess, I believe, to have his scull. 
 
 STANZA XV. 
 
 As the panther's sight. 
 
 I am well aware that there is, properly, no such American animal ; but it 
 is a better sounding word, in poetry, than cat of the mountain, &c. I have 
 also called a couguar a tiger, in the sixth Canto,- to avoid a repetition of the 
 word. 
 
 The crystal wave 
 
 Where the spirit dwells in his northern cave. 
 
 " About thirty miles below the falls of St. Anthony, at which I arrived the 
 tenth day after I left Lake Pepin, is a remarkable cave ofLan amazing depth. 
 The Indians term it Wakon-teebe, that is, the Dwelling of the Great Spirit. 
 The entrance into it is about ten feet wide, the height of it five feet. The 
 arch within it is near fifteen feet high and about thirty feet broad. The 
 bottom of it consists of fine clear sand. About twenty feet from the 
 entrance begins a lake, the water of which is transparent, and extends to 
 an unsearchable distance ; for the darkness of the cave prevents all attempts 
 to acquire a knowledge of it. I threw a small pebble towards the interior 
 parts of it with my utmost strength : I could hear that it fell into the water, 
 and notwithstanding it "was of so small a size, it caused an astonishing and 
 horrible noise that reverberated through all those gloomy regions. I found 
 in this cave many Indian hieroglyphics, which appeared very ancient, for 
 time had nearly covered them with moss, so that it was with difficulty I 
 could trace them. They were cut in a rude manner upon the inside of 
 the walls, which were composed of a stone so extremely soft that it might 
 easily be penetrated with a knife ; a stone everywhere to be found near the 
 Mississippi. The cave is only accessible by ascending a narrow steep pas 
 sage that lies near the brink of the river." Carter'* Travels, p. 39, 40. 
 
342 NOTES TO CANTO FIRST. 
 
 STANZA XIX. 
 >-i ' ! *> bif ; *'] "-! 
 
 Yet does our warm breath buoyant rise, &c. 
 
 " Whither is that breath flown, which a few hours ago sent up smoke to 
 tine Great Spirit ?" Carver's Travels, p. 282. The usual Indian meta- 
 -phors for war and peace are generally known. "Straight roads, smooth 
 waters, clear sky, smoking the white calumet on a beaver blanket under the 
 tree of peace, the war kettle," &c. &c. are terms familiar to all who have 
 loolsed into Colden's History of the Five Nations, Carver's Travels, &c. I 
 have not, therefore, thought it needful to make any note on particular ex 
 pressions of this description. The following list of metaphors is extracted 
 from Heckewelder, and comprises, I believe, most of those employed in 
 the text. 
 
 " * The sky is overcast with dark blustering clouds.' We shall have 
 troublesome times ; we shall have war. ;c A black cloud has arisen yonder.' 
 War is threatened from that quarter, or from that nation. 'The path is 
 already shut up.' Hostilities have commenced ; the war is begun. ' The 
 rivers run with blood.' War rages in the country. * To bury the hatchet.' 
 To make or conclude a peace. ' To lay down the hatchet, or to slip the 
 hatchet under the bedstead.' To cease fighting for a while, during a truce ; 
 or, to place the hatchet at hand, so that it may be taken up again at a 
 moment's warning. ' The hatchet you gave me was very sharp.' As you 
 have satisfied me, I have done the same for you ; I have killed many of your 
 enemies. ' Singing birds.' Tale-bearers, story-tellers, liars^. ' Don't listen 
 to the singing of the birds which fly by.' Don't believe what stragglers tell 
 you. To kindle a council fire at such a place.' To appoint a place where 
 the national business is to be transacted ; to establish the seat of government 
 there*; ' I will place you under my wings.' (Meaning under my arm-pits.) 
 I will protect you at all hazards; you shall be perfectly safe ; nobody shall 
 molest you. * Suffer no grass to grow on the war-path.' Carry on the war 
 with vigour. * To open a path from one nation to another, by removing the 
 logs, brush, and briers out of the way.' To invite the nation .to which the 
 path leads to a friendly intercourse ; to prepare the way to live on friendly 
 terms with them. ' I have covered yon spot with fresh earth ; I have raked 
 leaves, and planted trees thereon ;' means, literally, I have hidden the grave 
 from your eyes ; and figuratively, you must now be cheerful again ! ' To 
 bury deep in the earth' (an injury done). To consign it to oblivion." 
 Heckewelder, p. 125, 126, 127, 128, 129. 
 
 As the wretch by subtle sorcerer near. 
 
 " It is incredible to what a degree the superstitious belief in witchcraft 
 operates on the mind of an Indian. The moment his imagination is struck 
 with the idea he is bewitched, he is no longer himself. Of this extraordinary 
 
NOTES TO CANTO FIKST. 343 
 
 power of their conjurers, of the causes which produce it, and the rhanner in 
 which it is acquired, they have not a very definite idea. The sorcerer, they 
 think, makes use of some deadening substance, which he conveys to the 
 person he means to ' strike,' in a manner which they can neither under 
 stand nor describe. The person thus ' stricken' is immediately seized with 
 an unaccountable terror. His spirits sink, his appetite fails, he is disturbed 
 in his sleep, he pines and wastes away, or a fit of sickness seizes him, and 
 he dies at last a miserable victim to the workings of his own imagination." 
 Heckewelder, 229-231. See also Carver, Charlevoix, Bartram, Hearnc, 
 &o. referred to in Dr. Jarvis's discourse on the religion of the Indian tribes, 
 &c. delivered before the.N. Y. Historical Society, December 20, 1819. And 
 see notes to Canto IV. Dr. Jarvis, p. 51, takes notice of the mistake, 
 made by Carver and others, in confounding the jongleurs, or jugglers (in 
 English), with the priests. The expression, sorcerer, made use of in the 
 text, alludes to the former order. . I have generally, however, termed them 
 pow-wahs, and their brethren, who followed the more regular practice, 
 prophets. It is somewhat singular that Mr. Southey, in one of his * Songs 
 of the North-American Indians,' should put the French term jongleur in the 
 mouth of a native. 
 
 Like the coward ghosts whom the bark of stone. 
 
 " They believe (the Chepewyans) that immediately after their death they 
 pass into another world, where they arrive at a large river, on which they 
 embark in a stone canoe, and that a gentle current bears them on to an 
 extensive lake, in the centre of which is a most beautiful island ; and that 
 in the view of this delightful abode, they receive that judgment for their con 
 duct during life which terminates their final state and unalterable allotment. 
 If their good actions are declared to predominate, they are landed upon the 
 island, where there is to be no end to their happiness ; which, however, 
 according to their notions, consists in an eternal enjoyment of sensual 
 pleasure and carnal gratification. But if their bad actions weigh down the 
 balance, the stone canoe sinks at once, and leaves them up to their chins in 
 water, to behold and regret the reward enjoyed by the good, and eternally 
 struggling, but with unavailing endeavours, to reach the blissful island from 
 which they are excluded for ever." Mackenzie's Voyages, p. 84, New-York 
 edit. 1802. 
 
 The hunters came, the charm they brought. 
 
 It is said in Bartram's Travels that the deer are enticed by the olive 
 leaves. 
 
344 NOTES TO CANTO FIRST. 
 
 STANZA XXI. 
 
 Tatibut. " Thank you.."Heckewelder. 
 
 As fierce the enclosing circle burns. 
 
 "Les chasseurs se rangent sur quatre lignes, qui ferment un tres grand 
 quarre\ et commerueent par raettre le feu aux herbes, qui sont se"ches alors, et 
 fort hautes ; puis, a mesure que le feu gagne, ils avancent en se reserrant. 
 Les bcsufs, qui craignent extremement le feu, fuyent toujours, et se trouvent 
 a la fin si genre's les uns centre les autres, qu'on les tue ordinairement 
 jusqu'au dernier." " Quand il [le boeuf J est blesse il est furieux, et se 
 retourne sur les chasseurs." Charlevoix, lorn. Hi. 131. 
 
 STANZA XXIII. 
 
 Miantonimo's honoured, head. s 
 
 I know not if the quantity of this word be correct. Miantonimo was the 
 chief sachem of the Narragansets, and was defeated and taken prisoner in a 
 pitched battle with Uncas, who cut off his head and sent it to the English. 
 They stuck it on a pole, in terrorum, anno 1643. Oanonchet was Mianto 
 nimo' s son. He was captured in 1676 by the Connecticut forces and their 
 Indian confederates, the Mohegans and Niantics, under their sachem, old 
 Ninigret. Canonchet was one of the most gallant chieftains of that day. 
 A very interesting account, too long to be inserted, is given of his capture, in 
 Hubbard, p. 159-162. He was honourably shot by some Mohegans of his 
 own rank. Mr. Irving has mentioned him in his life of Philip. Panoquin 
 Was the friend of Canonchet v and also a sub-sachem among the Narragan 
 sets. Hubbard. Mather's Magnolia. Increase Mather, &c. 
 
 Ne'er from his path shall traveller turn, 
 Beside their grassy mound to mourn. 
 
 But on whatever occasion they [the Indians' mounds] may have been 
 made, they are of considerable notoriety among the Indians : for a party 
 passing, about thirty years ago, through the part of the country where this 
 barrow is, went through the woods directly to it, without any instructions or 
 inquiry ; and having staid about for some time, with expressions which were 
 construed to be those of sorrow, they returned to the high road, which they 
 had left about half a dozen miles to pay this visit, and pursued their jour 
 ney." Jefferson's Notes, p. 161, 162. 
 
NOTES TO CANTO FIRST. 345 
 
 STANZA XXIV. 
 
 The battle-god. 
 
 " II paroit, madame, que dans ces chansons on invoque le dieu de la 
 guerre, que les Hurons appellent Areskoui et les Iroquois Agreskoue. Je ne 
 S9ai pas quel nom ou lui donne dans les langues Algonquines." " IS Ares 
 koui des Hurons et I' Agreskoue des Iroquois est dans -1'opinionde ces peuples 
 le Souverain Eire, et le Dieu de la Guerre." Charlevoix, III. 207-344. I 
 do not know, any better than Father Charlevoix, the name of the war-god 
 among the Lenape ; but find a totally different word for the verb to make 
 war, which, in the Iroquois, is derived from the name of the deity. The 
 New-England Indians, I believe, had no such person in their mythology.* 
 The word is, therefore, improperly put into King Philip's mouth, Mr. Camp 
 bell writes it Ariouski, in " Gertrude of Wyoming." 
 
 STANZA XXV. 
 
 So where at first with gurgling rush. 
 
 " I observed that the main body of the Fox river came from the south 
 west, that of the Ouisconsin from the north-east. That two such rivers 
 should take their rise so near each other, and after running different courses* 
 empty themselves into the sea, at a distance so amazing (for the former, 
 having passed through several great lakes, and run upwards of two thou 
 sand miles, falls into the Gulf of St. Lawrence ; and the other, after joining 
 the Mississippi, and having run an equal number of miles, disembogues itself 
 into the Gulf of Mexico), is an instance scarcely to be met in the extensive 
 continent of North America. I had an opportunity, the year following, of 
 making the same observations on the affinity of various head branches of the 
 waters of the St. Lawrence and the Mississippi [which] in some places ap 
 proached so near that I could have stepped from the one to the other." Car- 
 ver's Travels, p. 28. 
 
 STANZA XXVI. 
 
 Enkindles at polluted fires 
 The stem must crack. 
 
 " They will not suffer any belonging to them to fetch such things as are 
 necessary, even fire, from these retreats, though the want is attended with 
 the greatest inconvenience. They are also so superstitious as to think, if a 
 
 * See the notes to Canto IV. 
 VOL. I. X X 
 
346 NOTES TO CANTO FIRST. 
 
 pipe-stem cracks, which among them is made of wood, that the possessor has 
 lighted it at one of these polluted fires," &c. Carver's Travels, p. 162. 
 This alludes to a particular custom, to which the simile in the text has no 
 reference. See, also, for that custom, Adair's History of the North Ameri 
 can Indians. M'Kenzie J s History of the Fur Trade, p. 87. Star in the 
 West, by Dr. Boudinot, &c. and the notes to Canto IV. 
 
 STANZA XXVII. 
 
 No Weko-lis shall ever sing. 
 
 " The Indians say that when the leaf of the white oak, which puts forth 
 in the spring, is of the size of the ear of a mouse, it is time to plant corn ; 
 they observe that now the whipperwill has arrived, and is continually hover 
 ing over them, calling out his Indian name ' Wekolis,' in order to remind* 
 them of the planting time, ' Hackihack ." go to planting corn !" Heckewelder, 
 p. 305. Carver, mentioning the same circumstance, says, the Indians term 
 the bird " Muckawiss." p. 310. 
 
 The blasting wind, with poisoned breath. 
 
 The mortality among the Indians, previous to the coming of the English, 
 has been mentioned before, in the note from Gookin, on the Pawkanawkutts, 
 And see notes to Canto III. 
 
 The Owannox. 
 
 This was the name given to the English by the Indians. Thus, when the 
 enemy approached Mystic Fort, the sentry of the Pequods cried out, O 
 wanux ! O wanux ! or, as C. Mather has it, Wannux ! Wannux ! Magr 
 nalia, VII. 42. 
 
 The gloomy ghosts of dead renown^ 
 Is, I perceive, borrowed from Young, 
 
 The melancholy ghosts of dead renown, 
 All point to earth, and hiss at human pride ! 
 
 STANZA XXVIII. 
 
 The council fire. 
 
 " One house, one Jire, and one canoe, is to say that they constituted to 
 gether one people, one family." Heckewelder, 79. 
 
 Mysterious as the wave, 
 Where Huron disembogues its tides. 
 
 I transcribed these lines hastily, wilhout referring to their precise allu- 
 ion. The second line may be stricken out, without injuring the sense of the 
 
NOTES TO CANTO FIRST. 347 
 
 passage. Those, however, who are disposed to be captious, are perfectly 
 welcome to all the blunders /may have committed, here and elsewhere. 
 
 " I had like to have omitted a very extraordinary circumstance relative to 
 these straits (Michillimackinack). According to observation, made by the 
 French, while they were in possession of the fort, although there is no di 
 urnal flood or ebb to be perceived in these waters, yet, from an exact atten 
 tion to their state, a periodical alteration in them has been discovered. It 
 \vas observed that they rose by gradual, but almost imperceptible degrees, 
 till they had reached the height of about three feet. This was accomplished 
 in seven years and a half; and in the same space they as gently decreased, 
 till they had reached their former situation ; so that in fifteen years they had 
 completed this inexplicible revolution." Career, p. 92. 
 
 STANZA XXX. 
 
 Go howl around the walls of heaven ! 
 
 *' He," the Prophet, " likewise told me, that departed souls always went 
 southward ; and that the difference between the good and bad was this 
 -that the former were admitted into a beautiful town, with spiritual walls, or 
 walls agreeable to the nature of souls ; and that the latter would for ever 
 Jiover round those walls, and in vain attempt to get in," &c. Diary of 
 David, Brainerd. E. See also Carver, p. 251. M'Kenzie, &c. &c. 
 
 The_white man's arms. 
 
 Cotton Mather thus pathetically laments the introduction of fire-arms 
 among the Indians. " After this the Land rested from War for forty- Years 
 together, even until the Sins of the Land called for a new Scourge ; and the 
 Indians, by being taught the use of Guns, which hitherto they had not 
 learnt, were more capable to be made the instruments of inflicting it. The 
 English Interest in America must at last, with Bleeding Lamentations, cry 
 out Heu ! patiar telis vulnera fatta meis. For after this, the Auri sacra 
 Fames, .that cursed Hunger of Lucre, in the diverse Nations of Europeans 
 here, in diverse Colonies bordering upon one another, soon furnished the 
 Savages with Tools to destroy those that furnish'd them ; Tools pregnant 
 with infernal flame," &c.Magnalia, VII. ~ 44. The Dutch sold great 
 quantities of fire-arms to the Indians. 
 
 STANZA XXXI. 
 
 By Sassacous' honoured bones. 
 
 This mode of expression is, I believe, improper for an Indian. The author 
 last quoted has this curious remark, speaking of the destruction of the Pe- 
 
348 NOTES TO CANTO FIRST. 
 
 quod fort. " When they came to see the ashes of their friends mingled 
 with the ashes of the fort, and the bodies of so many of their Country terri 
 bly Barbikew'd, where the English had been doing a good morning's work, 
 they HowPd, they Roar'd, they stamp'd, they tore their hair ; and though 
 they did not Swear (for they knew not how!) yet they Curs'd, and were the 
 Pictures of so many Devils in Desperation." Magnalia, VII. 43. 
 
 In the fierce Maqucfs clime. 
 
 The Indians in the western parts of Connecticut were tributary to the 
 Mohawks. The cry of " a Mohawk ! a Mohawk !" struck them with uni 
 versal panic. The Mohawks announced their coming by the shout, " We 
 are coming, we are coming, to suck your blood !" See Colderfs History, vol. 
 i. p. 3., and Trumbull, p. 56. These conquerors made a descent upon 
 Philip's confederates, during this war, and destroyed numbers of them. See 
 the notes to Canto III. 
 
 STANZA XXXII. 
 
 That Philip killed an Indian for proposing terms of peace, and that the 
 brother, or friend, of the deceased, betrayed the sachem's haunts to the Eng 
 lish, are historical facts, recorded by all the contemporary historians of that 
 day. Cotton Mather says, " A man belonging to Philip himself, being dis 
 gusted at him for killing an Indian, who had propounded an expedient of 
 peace with the English, ran away from him to Rhode Island, where Captain 
 Church was then recruiting of his weary forces." Magnolia, VII. 45. 
 " One of Philip's men (being disgusted at him, for killing an ladian, who 
 had propounded an expedient for peace with the English), ran away from 
 him, and coming to Road Island, informed," &c. Increase Mather, p. 46. 
 " Such had been his inveterate malice and wickedness against the English, 
 that, despairing of mercy from them, he could not hear that any thing 
 should be suggested to him about a peace, insomuch as he caused one of his 
 confederates to be kiHed, for propounding an expedient of peace ; which so 
 provoked some of his company, not altogether so desperate as himself, that 
 one of them (being near of kin to him that was killed), fled to Road Island," 
 &c. Hubbard, old edit. p. 103. See Captain Church's account in a note to 
 Canto III. As to the mode of Agamoun's execution, it is, I believe, justi 
 fiable. 
 
 " The Sachem was not only examiner, judge, and executioner, in all crim 
 inal cases, but in all matters of justice between one man and another. The 
 Sachem whipped the delinquent, and slit his nose, in cases which required 
 these punishments ; and he killed the delinquent, unless he were at a great 
 distance. In this case, in which execution could not be done with his own 
 hands, he sent his knife, by which it was effected. The Indians would not 
 
NOTES TO CANTO FIRST. 349 
 
 receive any punishment that was not capital, from the hands of any except 
 their Sachems. The Sachems were so absolute in their government, that 
 they contemned the limited authority of the English governors." Trum- 
 bull, p. 52, 53. 
 
 " In the time of Bacon's rebellion, one of these Werowances [Virginia 
 Sachems], attended by several others of his nation, was treating with the 
 English in New Kent county, about a Peace ; and during the time of his 
 Speech, one of his Attendants presum'd to interrupt him, which he resented 
 as the most unpardonable Affront that could be offered him, and therefore he 
 instantly took his Tomahawk from his girdle, and split the Fellow's head, for 
 his presumption. The poor Fellow dying immediately upon the spot, he 
 commanded some of his men to carry him out, and went on again with his 
 Speech where he left off, as unconcern'd as if nothing had happen'd." #- 
 tory of Virginia, p. 194. 
 
 STANZA XXXIV. 
 
 The brave, the generous Annawon. 
 See a note to Canto V. 
 
 As in his dream the Initiate's faith. 
 See a subsequent note to this Canto. 
 
 Their courage is an old year's flame. 
 
 " The Indians esteem the old year's fire as a most dangerous pollution, 
 regarding only the supposed holy fire, which the Archimagus annually re 
 news for the people." Adair, p. 22. 
 
 The insatiate hawk. 
 
 " The Cheerake Indians have a pointed proverbial expression, signifying 
 The great hawk is at home.' " Adair, p. 17, speaking of the Indian con 
 tempt of avarice. 
 
 Since childhood's earlier moons were dead, &o. 
 
 The following extracts relate to what some writers- call " making black 
 boys," and Mr. Heckewelder, " the initiation of boys." See the notes to 
 Dr. Jarvis's discourse ; and to the Fourth Canto. 
 
 " I do not know how to give a better name (initiation of boys) to a super 
 stitious practice which is very common among the Indians, and, indeed, is 
 universal among those nations that I have become acquainted with. By cer 
 tain methods which I shall presently describe, they put the mind of a boy in 
 a state of perturbation, so as to excite dreams and visions ; by means of 
 which they pretend that the boy receives instructions from certain spirits or 
 
350 NOTES TO CANTO FIRST. 
 
 unknown agents as to his conduct in life, that he is informed of his future 
 destination, and of the wonders he is to perform in his future career through 
 out the world. 
 
 " When a boy is to be thus initiated, he is put under an alternate course 
 of physic and fasting, either taking no food whatever, or swallowing the 
 most powerful and nauseous medicines, and occasionally he is made to drink 
 decoctions of an intoxicating nature, until his mind becomes sufficiently be 
 wildered, so that he sees, or fancies that he sees, visions, and has extraordi 
 nary dreams, for which, of course, he has been prepared beforehand. He 
 will fancy himself flying through the air, walking under ground, stepping 
 from one ridge or hill to the other across the valley beneath, fighting and 
 conquering giants and monsters, and defeating whole hosts by his single arm. 
 Then he has interviews with the Mannitto, or with spirits, who inform him 
 of what he was before he was born, and what he will be after his death. 
 His fate in this life is laid entirely open before him, the spirit tells him what 
 is to be his future employment, whether he will be a valiant warrior, a 
 mighty hunter, a doctor, a conjuror, or a prophet. There are even those 
 who learn, or pretend to learn, in this way, the time and manner of their 
 death. 
 
 " When a boy has been thus initiated, a name is given to him analogous 
 to the visions that he has seen, and to the destiny that is supposed to be pre 
 pared for him. The boy, imagining all that happened to him while under 
 perturbation to have been real, sets out in the world with lofty notions of 
 himself, and animated with courage for the most desperate undertakings. 
 They could always cite numerous instances of valiant men, who, in former 
 times, in consequence of such dreams, had boldly attacked their enemy with 
 nothing but the Tamahican in their hand, had not looked about to survey the 
 number of their opponents, but had gone straight forward, striking all down 
 before them." Hcckewelder, p. 238-9. 
 
 The extract which follows, is, perhaps, as satisfactory an explanation of 
 this singular custom, as any that has been given since the author's time. 
 The same, or similar rites, being used by the Indians of the north, probably 
 gave occasion to the same superstition among the settlers there, as was en 
 tertained by those of the south ; namely, that the savages sacrificed their 
 children to Moloch, or the Devil. 
 
 " The Indians have their altars and places of sacrifice: Some say, they 
 now and then sacrifice young children : but they deny it, and assure us, that 
 when they withdraw their children, it is not to sacrifice them, but to conse 
 crate them to the service of their god. Smith tells of one of these Sacrifices 
 in his time, from the Testimony of some People who had been Eye-wit 
 nesses. His Words are these." Here follows a quotation from Smith, re 
 ferred to in the notes to Dr. Jarvis's Discourse. He then proceeds ; " I take 
 this story of Smith's to be only an example of Huskanawing, which, being a 
 ceremony then altogether unknown to him, he might easily mistake some of 
 the Circumstances of it. 
 
NOTES TO CANTO FIRST. 351 
 
 " The solemnity of the Huskanawing is commonly practis'd once every 
 fourteen or sixteen years, or oftener, as their young Men happen to grow up. 
 It is an Institution or Discipline which all young Men must pass, before they 
 can be admitted to be of the Number of the great Men, Officers, or Cocka- 
 rouses of the Nation ; whereas by Captain Smithes Relation, they were only 
 set apart to supply the Priesthood. The whole ceremony of Huskanawing 
 is performed after the following manner : 
 
 " The choicest and briskest young Men of the Town, and such only as 
 have acquired some Treasure by their Travels and Hunting, are chosen out 
 by the Rulers to be Huskanawed ; and whoever refuses to undergo this 
 Process, dares not remain among them. Several of those odd preparatory 
 Fopperies are premis'd in the Beginning, which have been before related ; 
 but the principal Part of the Business is, to carry them into the Woods, and 
 there keep them under Confinement, and destitute of all Society, for several 
 Months ; giving them no other Sustenance, but the Infusion or Decoction of 
 some poisonous, intoxicating Roots ; by virtue of which Physick, and by the 
 severity of the Discipline which they undergo, they become stark staring 
 Mad : In which raving Condition they are kept eighteen or twenty Days; 
 During these Extremities, they are shut up, Night and Day, in a strong In- 
 closure, made on Purpose, one of which I saw, belonging to the Pamaunkie 
 Indians, in the year 1694. It was in Shape like a Sugar-loaf, and every way 
 open like a lattice, for the air to pass through. In this Cage, thirteen young 
 men had been Huskanawed, and had not been a Month set at liberty when I 
 saw it. Upon this Occasion it is pretended, that these poor Creatures drink 
 so much of that Water of Lethe, that they perfectly lose the Remembrance 
 of all former Things, even of their Parents, their Treasure, and their Lan 
 guage. When the Doctors find that they have drank sufficiently of the 
 Wysoccan (so they call this mad Potion), they gradually restore them to 
 their senses again, by lessening the Intoxication of their Diet ; but before 
 they are perfectly well, they bring them back into their Towns, while they 
 are still wild and crazy, through the Violence of the Medicine. After this 
 they are very fearful of discovering any thing of their former Remembrance ; 
 for if such a thing should happen to any of them they must immediately be 
 Huskanawed again. Thus they unlive their former Lives, and commence 
 Men, by forgetting that they ever have been Boys. The Indians pretend 
 that this violent Method of taking away the Memory, is to release the Youth 
 from all their childish Impressions, and from that strong Partiality to Per 
 sons and Things which is contracted before Reason comes to take place." 
 History of Virginia, p. 175, 176, 177, 178, 179. 
 
 This loo oft sung the illumined priest. 
 
 One thing," says Dr. Mather, which imboldened King Philip in all 
 his Outrages, was an assurance which his Magicians, consulting* their 
 Oracles, gave him, that no Englishman should ever kill him ; and indeed if 
 
352 NOTES TO CANTO FIRST. 
 
 any Englishman might have had the honour of Killing him, he must have had 
 a good measure of Grace to have repressed the Vanity of Mind whereto he 
 would have had some Temptations. But this will not extend the Life of 
 that Bloody and Crafty Wretch above half his days /" Magnalia, VII. p. 54. 
 
 STANZA XXXV. 
 
 .iv'' 
 
 Yamoyden. 
 
 A word euphonized by my deceased friend, I believe, from some more un 
 couth name. All the letters, however, belong to the alphabet of these 
 Indians. The rude sound of the Indian names was distressing to the 
 writers of Philip's age, as appears from several remarks of Mather, and 
 others. The author of some verses, meant to be complimentary, prefixed to 
 Hubbard's Narrative, calls them, 
 
 " Names uncouth which ne'er Minshew could reduce, 
 
 By's Pollyglotton to the vulgar use." 
 
 With all due deference, however, the appellations of many of these chief 
 tains, particularly in the vicinity of Narraganset bay, if connected with 
 classical associations, would seem full as sonorous as the names of the 
 ancient heroes. 
 
 Prove if the spirits yet be dumb 
 The sacrifice of blood. 
 
 See notes to Cantos III. and IV. 
 
NOTES TO CANTO SECOND. 
 
 The Virgin Mother's meek full eye. 
 
 " Christ himself, and the Virgin Mary had most beautiful eys, as amiable 
 eys as any person, saith Barradius, that ever lived ; but withall so modest, 
 so chaste, that whosoever looked on them, was freed from that passion of 
 burning lust ; if we may believe Gerson and Bonaventure, there was no such 
 antidote against it as the Virgin Marie's face." Burton's Anat. Mel. 
 
 STANZA IH 
 
 Round moon. 
 So the Indians term the full moon.Heckewelder, p. 307. 
 
 STANZA V. 
 
 Sad Nora sits. 
 
 The name of the heroine was, in the original copy, scriptural. My friend 
 afterward altered it ; and I have left the one he selected. 
 
 A Nipnet chieftain wooed and won 
 
 Her virgin love. 
 
 I believe no example is on record, of a Christian woman, of any refine 
 ment, voluntarily leaving her friends, and going off with an Indian. There 
 have been many instances where they have been carried off by the savages ; 
 and after haying become used to their mode of life, refused to return to their 
 connexions. La Hontan and Charlevoix are at issue, on a point respecting 
 the taste of the French women. I quote from a poor translation of the 
 former author, not having the original work. Speaking of the conduct of 
 the savages, at the fair at Montreal, after they have intoxicated themselves 
 a little, he says, "'Tis a comical sight to see 'em running from shop to 
 VOL. I. Y Y 
 
354 NOTES TO CANTO SECOND. 
 
 shop, stark naked, with their bow and arrow. The nicer sort of women are 
 wont to hold their fans before their eyes, to prevent their being frighted with 
 the view of their ugly parts. But these merry Companions, who know the 
 brisk She-Merchants as well as we, are not wanting in making an offer, 
 which is sometimes accepted of, when the present is tempting. If we may 
 credit the common report, there are more than one or two of the Ladies of 
 this country, whose Constancy and Vertue have held out against the attacks 
 of several officers, and at the same time vouchsafed a free access to these 
 homely paramours. 'Tis presum'd their Compliance was the effect of Curi 
 osity, rather than of any nice Relish ; for, in a word, the Savages are neither 
 brisk nor constant. But whatever is the matter, the women are the more ex 
 cusable upon this Head, that such opportunities are very unfrequent." La 
 Honlari's Voyage to N. America) done into English, London, 1703. 
 
 " Si par hazard, Madame, vous tombez sur le livre de la HONTAN, ou il 
 est parle de cette Foire, donnez vous bien de garde de prendre tout ce qu'il 
 en dit pour des verites. La vraisemblance n'y est pas meme gardee. Les 
 Femmes des Montreal n'ont jamais donne lieu a ce que cet Auteur y met sur 
 leur compte, et il n'y a rien a craindre pour leur honneur de la part des Sau- 
 vages. II est sans exemple qu'aucun d'eux ait jamais pris la moindre 
 libert^ avec les Fra^oises, lors mme qu'elles ont e"te" leurs Prisonnieres. 
 Il's n'en sont pas mme tentes, et il seroit a souhaiter que les Fran9ois eus- 
 sent le meme dugout des Sauvagesses. La Hontan ne pouvoit pas ignorer 
 ce qui est de notoriete publique en ce Pays ; mais il vouloit e"gayer ses Me"- 
 moires, et pour y reussir, toutlui e"toitbon," &c. Charlevoix, III. p. 142-3. 
 
 STANZA VII. 
 
 The shores where the wife of the giant was thrown. 
 
 There is a tradition, preserved in the Mass. Hist. Society, vol. i. p. 137, 
 of the Indians on one of the islands near Narraganset bay. They say that 
 a giant, called Moshup, or^e of their ancestors, getting in a passion with his 
 wife, hurled her through the air, and she dropped on Seaconet Point. There 
 she beguiled those who were passing on the water with a melancholy song, 
 which drew them to the shore, where she made them pay her tribute. She 
 finally turned into stone. 
 
 STANZA IX. 
 
 The wakon bird descends from heaven. 
 
 " The Wakon bird, as it is termed by the Indians, appears to be of the 
 same species as the birds of paradise. The name they have given it is ex 
 pressive of its superior excellence and the veneration they have for it ; the 
 
NOTES TO CANTO SECOND. 355 
 
 Wakon bird' being in their language the bird of the Great Spirit. It i s 
 nearly the size of a swallow, of a brown colour, shaded about the neck with 
 a bright green ; the wings are of a darker brown than the body ; its tail is 
 composed of four or five feathers, which are three times as long as its body, 
 and which are beautifully shaded with green and purple. It carries this fine 
 length of plumage in the same manner as a peacock does," &c. Carver, p. 
 814. Wakon, however, is the term for God, or the Great Spirit, in the Nau- 
 dowessie dialect. In the language of the Algonquins, Chippewyans, &c. 
 which is radically the same with that of the New-England Indians, the 
 name of the Deity, or Good Spirit, is Kitchi Manitou ; as that of bad 
 Spirits is Matchi Manitou. The term used in the text is therefore improper, 
 as is also (though less objectionable, as it is applied), the phrase Wakon 
 cave, employed in the Fourth Canto. 
 
 The great good Spirit's beloved speech. 
 
 According to Adair, the Southern Indians termed the sacred traditions of 
 their forefathers, " the beloved speech." 
 
 STANZA XI. 
 
 Wept like the roebuck when he flies. 
 
 " On dit qu'il [le Chevreuil] jette des larmes, lorsqu'il se voit pousse a 
 bout par les chasseurs." Charlevoix, III. p. 132. 
 
 STANZA XII. 
 
 I sought Seaconefs queen. 
 
 Awashonks, the " Sunke Squaw" of Seaconet, shortly before this time, 
 had submitted, with ninety of her warriors, to Major Bradford. Her Indians 
 accompanied the English in their last chase after Philip. See Magnalia, 
 VII. 53. Hubbard, new edit., 213. Church, 21, 43, &c. 
 
 Hunter genii. 
 
 Charlevoix mentions a feast in honour of what may be supposed to be the 
 Hunter Genius, p. 118. 
 
 The wily red fox leap, 
 To snare the sportive birds. 
 
 " Les Renards donnent la chasse aux oiseaux de Riviere, d'une maniere 
 fort ingenieuse. Us s'avancent un peu dans 1'Eau, puis se retirent et font 
 cent cabrioles sur le Rivage. Les Canards, les Outards, et d'autres Oiseaux 
 semblables, que ce jeu divertit, s'approchent du Renard ; quand il les voit a 
 

 356 NOTES TO CANTO SECOND. 
 
 sa portee, il se tient fort tranquile d'abord, pour ne les point effaroucher, 
 il renmue seulement sa Queue, comme pour les attirer de plus pres, et ces 
 sots Animaux donnent dans le piege, jusqu'a becquetter cette Queue. Alors 
 le Renard saute dessus, et manque rarement son coup." Charlevoix, 
 III. p. 183. 
 
 Balmy fountains of the west. 
 
 " Un officier digne de foi m'a assure avoir vu une Fontaine, dont 1'Eau est 
 cornme de 1'Huile, et a le gout de Fer. II m'a ajoute qu'un peu plus loin, il 
 y en a une autre toute semblable, et que les Sauvages se servent de son Eau, 
 pour appaiser toutes sortes de douleurs." Idem. p. 224. 
 
 '.. "* 
 STANZA XIII. 
 
 The wanderer of the lonely place 
 
 Waylaid, and tortured to confess. 
 
 " They soon captivated the Numponsets, and brought them in, not one 
 escaping. This stroke he [Church] held several weeks, never returning 
 empty handed. When he wanted intelligence of their kennelling places, he 
 would march to some place likely to meet with some travellers or ramblers, 
 and scattering his company, would lie close, and seldom lay above a day or 
 two, at the most, before some of them would fall into his hands, whom he 
 would compel to inform where their company was ; and so, by his method 
 of secret and sudden surprises, took great numbers of them prisoners." 
 Church. E. 
 
 All the pure waters of thy faith. 
 
 The savages, naturally enough, ascribed supernatural effects to the sacra 
 ment of Baptism. See Charlevoix, 249. 
 
 STANZA XVI. 
 
 The river St. Mary has its source from a vast lake, or marsh, called Ou- 
 aquaphenogan, which lies between Flint and Oukmulge rivers, and occupies 
 a space of near three hundred miles in circuit. This vast accumulation of 
 waters in the wet season, appears as a lake, and contains some large islands, 
 or knolls, of rich high land ; one of which the present generation of the 
 Creeks represent to be a most blissful spot of the earth : they say it is in 
 habited by a peculiar race of Indians, whose women are incomparably beau 
 tiful ; they also tell you that this terrestrial paradise has been seen by some 
 of their enterprising hunters, when in pursuit of game, who, being lost in 
 inextricable swamps and bogs, and on the point of perishing, were unex- 
 
NOTES TO CANTO SECOND. 357 
 
 pectedly relieved by a company of beautiful women, whom they call daugh 
 ters of the sun, who kindly gave them such provisions as they had with them, 
 which were chiefly fruit, oranges, dates, &c. and some corn cakes, and then 
 enjoined them to fly for safety to their own country ; for that their husbands 
 were fierce men, and cruel to strangers : they further say that these hunters 
 had a view of their settlements, situated on the elevated banks of an island, 
 or promontory, in a beautiful lake ; but that in their endeavours to approach 
 it they were in perpetual labyrinths, and, like enchanted land, still as they 
 imagined they had just gained it, it seemed to fly before them, alternately 
 appearing and disappearing. They resolved, at length, to leave the delusive 
 pursuit, and to return ; which, after a number of inexpressible difficulties, 
 they effected. When they reported their adventures to their countrymen, 
 their young warriors were inflamed with an irresistible desire to invade, and 
 make a conquest of, so charming a country ; but all their attempts hitherto 
 have proved abortive, never having been able -again to find that enchanting 
 spot, nor even any road or pathway to it ; yet they say that they frequently 
 meet with certain signs of its being inhabited, as the building of canoes, 
 footsteps of men, &c. They tell another story concerning the inhabitants 
 of this sequestered country, which seems probable enoygh, which is, that 
 they are the posterity of a fugitive remnant of the ancient Yameses, who 
 escaped massacre after a bloody and decisive conflict between them and the 
 Creek nation (who, it is certain, conquered, and nearly exterminated, that 
 once powerful people), and here found an asylum, remote and secure from 
 the fury of their proud conquerors." Bar tram? s Travels through North and 
 South Carolina, &c. London, 1 792, p. 25, 26. 
 
 STANZA XVII. 
 
 And she had heard an Indian tell, 
 
 Such sounds foreboded sudden bale. 
 
 " As soon as night comes on, these birds will place themselves on the 
 fences, stumps, or stones that lie near some house, and repeat their melan 
 choly notes without any variation till midnight. The Indians, and some of 
 the inhabitants of the back settlements, tkink if this bird perches upon any 
 house, that it betokens some mishap to the inhabitants of it." Carver, 311. 
 
 It was the soul of a love-lorn maid. 
 
 The author of the " History of Virginia," before quoted, makes men 
 tion, p. 185, of a bird, said to contain the soul of one of their princes, by the 
 Indians. Their ideas of the transmigration of souls are referred to in the 
 notes to Canto V. 
 
358 NOTES TO CANTO SECOND. 
 
 STANZA XX. 
 
 Each stepping where the first had gone. 
 
 " They march one man behind the other, treading carefully in each other's 
 steps, so that their number may not be ascertained by the prints of their 
 feet." Heckewelder. 
 
 
NOTES TO CANTO THIRD. 
 
 Bright as the bird whom Indian legends sing, &c. 
 
 " The notion which the Chepewyans entertain of the creation is of a very 
 singular nature. - They believe that at the first the globe was one vast and 
 entire ocean, inhabited by no living creature, except a mighty bird, whose 
 eyes were fire, whose glances were lightnings, and the clapping of whose 
 wings was thunder. On his descent to the ocean, and touching it, the earth 
 instantly arose, and remained on the surface of the waters. This omnipo 
 tent bird then called forth all the variety of animals from the earth," &c. &c. 
 Mackenzie's Voyages, p. 74. E. 
 
 STANZA I. 
 
 The garden of the deep. 
 
 The island of Rhode Island has always been celebrated for its picturesque 
 beauty, and the salubrity of its climate. Its surface is delightfully varied 
 into hill and dale, wood and field, and unquestionably merits the appellation 
 here bestowed. It was the rendezvous of the English colonists during the 
 wars with Philip. E. 
 
 STANZA X. . 
 
 The plagues which sleep 
 
 In earth's dark bosom buried deep, 
 
 As the poor savage deems. 
 
 It is mentioned in " New England's Memorial" that the Indians supposed 
 the white men had the power of burying the smallpox under ground, or let 
 ting it escape among them. They were severely afflicted with this disease, 
 particularly in the spring of 1634. Owing to their total want of comfort and 
 cleanliness, few of them could escape, who caught it. " Being very sore," 
 
360 NOTES TO CANTO THIRD. 
 
 says the memorial, " what with cold and other distempers, they die like 
 rotten sheep." Cotton Mather says, it was the plague, which Squanto told 
 his countrymen the English kept in a cellar. 
 
 STANZA XII. 
 
 How oft the storm their barks delayed. 
 
 The difficulties encountered by the first emigrants, in crossing the ocean, 
 and after their arrival, are generally known. They are faithfully narrated 
 in the Magnolia, Prince's Chronological History, New- England's Memorial, 
 Purchases Collections, &c. and in the modern histories of Hutchinson, Trum- 
 lull, &c. It would be useless to make any extracts in these brief notes, 
 unless required by the text. 
 
 STANZA XIII. 
 
 A meteor fierce their herald came. 
 
 ** Some of the ancient Indians, that are surviving at the writing hereof, do 
 affirm, that about some two or three years before the first English arrived 
 here, they saw a blazing star, or comet, which was a forerunner of this sad 
 mortality, for soon after it came upon them in extremity. Thus God made 
 way for his people by removing the heathen." &c. N. E. Memorial, Boston 
 printed, Newport reprinted, 1772. Of this mortality among the Indians, 
 mentioned in the notes to Canto First, the Memorial says, " The Lord was 
 disposed much to waste them by a great mortality, together with which were 
 their own civil dissensions and bloody wars, so as the twentieth person was 
 scarce left alive when these people arrived ; there remaining sad spectacles 
 of that mortality in the place where they seated, by many bones and skulls of 
 the dead lying above-ground : whereby it appeared that the living of them 
 were not able to bury them." Id. p. 25. 
 
 C. Mather, Magnolia, I. 7, speaking of this mortality, says, "It is 
 remarkable that a Frenchman, who not long before these transactions had by 
 a shipwreck been made a captive among the Indians of this country, did, as 
 the survivors reported, just before he dy'd in their hands, tell these tawny 
 Pagans that God, being angry with them for their wickedness, would not 
 only destroy them all, but also people the place with another nation, which 
 would not live after their brutish manners. Those infidels then blas 
 phemously reply'd, God could not kill them ; which blasphemous mistake 
 was confuted by an horrible and unusual plague," &c. This story is told 
 more at length in N. E. Memorial, p. 29, 30. 
 
NOTES TO CANTO THIRD. 361 
 
 Their powahs met with purpose felt. 
 
 "But before I pass on, let the reader take notice of a very remarkable 
 particular, which was made known to the planters at Plymouth some short 
 space after their arrival ; that the Indians, before they came to the English 
 to make friendship with them, got all the powahs in the country, who for 
 three days together, in a horrid and devilish manner, did curse and execrate 
 them with their conjurations ; which assembly and service they held in a 
 dark and dismal swamp. Behold how Satan laboured to hinder the gospel 
 from coming into New-England." N. E, Memorial, p. 32. 
 
 STANZA XIV. 
 
 Gaunt famine came. 
 
 That the miseries of this famine are not exaggerated may be seen by a 
 reference to the authorities. 
 
 , i!;;*VKh.iy.|.m JoDm^ul^ 
 Crawled, forth the myriad insect host. 
 
 " It is to be observed, that the spring before this sickness there was a 
 numerous company of flies, which were like for bigness unto wasps' bumble 
 bees ; they came out of little holes in the ground, and did eat up the green 
 things, and made such a constant yelling noise as made the woods ring of 
 them, and ready to deafen the hearers ; the Indians said that sickness would 
 follow, and so it did very hot in the months of June, July, and August, of 
 that summer." N. E. Memorial, 99. The account of the sickness is given 
 in the same place. 
 
 On steril soil. 
 
 Oft blazed their roofs with raging flame 
 And oft thejierce tornado came. 
 See the same book, p. 43, 103, &c. 
 
 STANZA XV. 
 
 A mortal terror o'er them came. 
 
 This circumstance is particularly dwelt upon by Nathaniel Morton 
 (author of the Memorial), and C. Mather. 
 VOI*. I. Z Z 
 
362 NOTES TO CANTO THIRI>. 
 
 STANZA XVI. 
 
 When in their agonies they cried. 
 
 On Christ. 
 
 "After the English of the Massachusetts were returned, the Pequots took 
 their time and opportunity to cut off some of the English at Connecticut, as 
 they passed up and d 3wn upon their occasions ; and tortured some of them 
 in putting them to death in a most barbarous manner, and most blasphem 
 ously in (the Pequots' horrible blasphemy) this their cruelty, bade them call 
 upon their God, or mocked and derided them when they so did." N. E. 
 Memorial, 107. 
 
 " Those who fell into their hands alive were cruelly tortured after a most 
 barbarous manner, by insulting over their prisoners in a blasphemous wise, 
 when in their dying agonies, under the extremity of their pains (their flesh 
 being first slashed with knives, and then filled with burning embers), they 
 called upon God and Christ, with gasping groans, resigning up their souls 
 into their hands ; with which words these wretched caitiffs used to 
 mock the English afterward, when they came within their hearing and 
 view." Hubbard, p. 23, 24. 
 
 O'er daring sin-. 
 Prolific schism. 
 
 Alluding to the differences in religious opinions, which were so unsavoury 
 in the nostrils of those worthy and stubborn sectarians, who had themselves 
 emigrated that they might enjoy the free exercise of their tenets. On 
 Thomas Morton, at an early period, appears to have been particularly and 
 deservedly obnoxious for his open profanity. See N. E. Memorial, p. 76, 
 77. Magnolia, &c. This man, among the other offences laid to his charge, 
 is said to have sold guns and powder to the natives. 
 
 Wo to the worm whatever it be ! 
 
 " But God prepared a worm when the morning rose the next day, and it 
 smote the gourd that it withered." Jonah, c. iv. v. 7. 
 
 " Verba Doct. Arrowsmith, in Oral. Antiweigeliana, Faxif Deus Opti- 
 mus, Maximus, tenacem adeo veritatis hanc Academiam, ut deinceps, in An- 
 gKa Lupum, in Hibernia Bufonem, invenire facilius sit, quam out Socinia- 
 num aut Arminianum in Cantabrigia." Magnolia, iv. 138. 
 
 STANZA XVII. 
 
 On Moloch's streaming pyre. 
 See the Notes to Canto IV. 
 
Josh, c? 10. v. 8. 
 
 NOTES TO CANTO THIRD. 363 
 
 Thus saitk the Lord. 
 
 STANZA XVIII. 
 
 That polluted nigJti 
 That saw the heathens' damning rite. 
 
 " The Indians took five or six of the English Prisoners ; and that the 
 Reader may understand, crimine ab uno, what it is to be taken by such Devils 
 Incarnate, I shall here inform him : They Stripped these unhappy Prisoners, 
 and caused them to run the Gantlet, and Whipped them after a Cruel and 
 Bloody manner ; they then threw Hot Ashes upon them, and cutting off 
 Collops of their Flesh, they put Fire into their Wounds, and so, with Ex 
 quisite, Leisurely, Horrible Torments, Roasted them out of the World." 
 Magnolia, vii. 51, b. " But NOW was the time for Deliverance ! There 
 was an Evil Spirit of Dissention strangely sent among the Indians, which 
 disposed them to separate from one another : The Damons, who visibly ex 
 hibited themselves among them at their Powawing or Conjuring, signified 
 still unto them that they could now do no more for them : the Maquas, a 
 Powerful Nation in the West, made a Descent upon them, ranging and 
 raging through the Desart with irresistible Fury ; Fevers and Fluxes became 
 Epidemical among them, &c. And an unaccountable terror at the same 
 time so Dispirited them, that they were like men under a Fascination." 
 Idem, p. 52, a. '" 
 
 " Whether for the loss of some of their own company in that day's enter 
 prise (said to be an hundred and twenty), or whether it was the devil in 
 whom they trusted that deceived them, and to whom they made their address 
 the day before by sundry conjurations of their powaws ; or whether it were 
 by any dread that the Almighty sent upon their execrable blasphemies, which 
 it is said they used in torturing some of their poor captives (bidding Jesus 
 come and deliver them out of their hands from death, if he could)^ sure it is 
 that after this day they never prospered in any attempt they made against 
 the English, but were continually scattered and broken, till they were in a 
 manner all consumed." Hubbard, new ed. p. 186. 
 
 Then talked they of the sign beheld , 
 By their advancing troop. 
 
 A central eclipse of the moon in Capricorn, according to Hubbard, hap 
 pened on the 26th of June, when some troops from Boston were on their march 
 to Mount Hope. " Some melancholy fancies would not be persuaded but 
 that the eclipse, falling out at that instant of time, was ominous, conceiving 
 also that in the centre of the moon they discerned an unusual black spot, not 
 a little resembling the scalp of an Indian : As others, not long before, 
 
364 NOTES TO CANTO THIRD. 
 
 imagined they saw the form of an Indian bow, accounting that likewise omi 
 nous (although the mischiefs following were done by guns, and not by 
 bows). Both the one and the other might rather have thought of what 
 Marcus Crassus, the Roman General, going forth with an army against the 
 Parthians, once wisely replied to a private soldier, that would have dis 
 suaded him from marching that time, because of an eclipse of the moon in 
 Capricorn, that he was more afraid of Sagittarius than of Capricornus, 
 meaning the arrows of the Parthians." &c. Hublard, p. 74. 
 
 Cotton Mather recording this circumstance, has the same remark with 
 respect to Sagittarius and Capricornus. This is not the only instance in 
 which he condescends to borrow from Hubbard. The latter, speaking of the 
 butchery in cold blood, of thirty Pequods, says, " They were turned pres 
 ently into Charon's ferryboat, under the command of Skipper Gallop, who 
 despatched them a little without the harbor." This sentimental piece of wit 
 is thus copied in the Magnalia, VII. p. 44. "They put the men on board 
 a vessel of one Skipper Gallop, which proved a Charon's ferryboat unto them, 
 for it was found the quickest Way to feed the Fishes with 'em." 
 
 Nor this alone portended war. 
 
 " Yea, and now we speak of things Ominous, we may add, Some time 
 before this, in a Clear, Still, Sunshiny Morning, there were divers persons in 
 Maiden who heard in the Air, on the South- East of them, a Great Gun go 
 off, and presently thereupon the Report of Small Guns like Musket Shot, 
 very thick discharging, as if there had been a Battel. But that which most 
 pf all astonished them was the Flying of Bullets, which came Singing over 
 their Heads, and seemed very near to them ; after which the sound of Drums 
 passing along Westward was very Audible ; and on the same day, in Ply-? 
 mouth Colony, in several Places, invisible Troops of Horses were heard 
 Riding to and fro." Magnalia, VII. p, 46. For a further account of these 
 prodigies, see Hubbard, p. 74, and Increase Mather, p. 34, who says he had 
 the relation " from serious, faithfull, and Judicious hands, even of those who 
 were ear-witnesses of these things." 
 
 Of timely rains, &c. 
 
 There are several instances related of the interposition of Divine Provi 
 dence in behalf of the English, during their conflicts with the Indians. One 
 of the most remarkable is said to have happened at Bridgewater. We 
 borrow the words of Hubbard. " The Indians presently began to fire the 
 town, but it pleased God so to spirit and encourage several of thje inhabit 
 ants, issuing out of their garrison houses, that they fell upon them with 
 great resolution, and beat them off; at the same instant of time, the Lord 
 of Hosts also fighting for them from Heaven, by sending a storm of thunder 
 and rain very seasonably, which prevented the burning of the houses which 
 were fired." E. 
 
NOTES TO CANTO THIRD. ^ 365 
 
 STANZA XX. 
 
 Dark, even in youth, the orphan's fate. 
 
 The story of Fitzgerald, previous" to his emigration, is irrelevant to our 
 subject. I have retained it, however, as it formed so considerable a portion 
 of my friend's share of the poem. I have added three long stanzas, nar 
 rating the manner in which the daughter was won and carried off by the 
 Indian. The ideas are probably borrowed from the wooing of Othello. 
 How should they not be ] 
 
 (. Like eastern birds of Paradise. 
 
 " Manucodiatse, eastern birds of Paradise, that doe live on aire and dew." 
 Burton's Anat. Mel. 
 
 Who follows not the torch of hope, &c. 
 
 " Who builds not upon hope," says Sir Philip Sidney, " shall fear no 
 earthquake of despair." Aphorisms. So Seneca, in Medea, 
 Qui nil potest operare, desperet nihil. E. 
 
 STANZA XXIV. 
 
 WJien even the Ir other had imbued 
 
 His hands amid his brother's blood ; 
 
 The parent wept no more his son, 
 
 In that disastrous strife undone. 
 Sed postquam tellus scelere est imbuta nefando, 
 lustitiam que omnes cupida de mente fugaruHt, 
 Perfudere manus fraterno sanguine fratres, 
 Destitit extinctos natos lugere parentes, &c. &c. 
 
 Propertius, Epithal. Pelei et Thetidos. 
 
 STANZA XXV. 
 
 Naseby's fatal plain. 
 
 The decisive battle of Naseby was fought in the year 1645, with nearly 
 equal forces, on the sides both of the king and parliament. The fortune of 
 the day turned against Charles, and he was finally obliged to quit the field, 
 with the loss of about eight hundred men ; though the parliament lost above 
 a thousand. E. 
 
366 NOTES TO CANTO THIRD. 
 
 STANZA XXVIII. ; 
 
 Perchance too long alone she strayed, &c. 
 
 " As fern grows in untild grounds, and all manner of weeds, so do grose 
 humours in an idle body : ignavum corrumpunt otia corpus" " Cozen ger- 
 man to idleness, and a concomitant cause, which goes hand in hand with it, 
 is nimia solitude, too much solitude which is either coact, enforced, or else 
 voluntary." " Voluntary solitude is that which is familiar with melancholy, 
 and gently- brings on, like a Screw, a shooing horn, or some Sphinx, to this 
 irrevocable gulf. Most pleasant it is at first, to such as are melancholy 
 given, to lie in bed whole dayes, and keep their chambers, to walk alone in 
 some solitary grove, betwixt wood and water, by a brook side, to meditate 
 upon some delightsome and pleasant subject which shall affect them most ; 
 amabilis insania, and mentis gratissimus error" &c. &c. Anat. Mel. 
 
 STANZA XXIX. 
 
 J* it not written, &c. 
 Deuteronomy, chap. vii. ver. 1-4. 
 
 STANZA XXX. 
 
 Up to the camp two horsemen rode. 
 
 I In the account of the means by which the intelligence of Philip was con 
 veyed, we have deviated, not materially, however, from historical accuracy, in 
 order the better to interweave it with the story. We quote the following 
 from Church's history. " Not seeing or hearing of any of the enemy, they 
 went over the ferry (from Pocasset) to Rhode Island, to refresh themselves. 
 The Captain, with about half a dozen in his company, took horse and rid 
 about eight miles down the island, to Mr. Sandford's, where he had left his 
 wife ; who no sooner saw him but fainted with surprise ; and by that time 
 she was a little revived, they spied two horsemen coming a great pace. Cap 
 tain Church told his company that those men (by their riding) came with 
 tidings. When they came up they proved to be Major Sandford and Cap 
 tain Golding ; who immediately asked Captain Church, what he would give 
 to hear some news of PHILIP? He reply'd, That was what he wanted. 
 They told him, They had rid hard with some hopes of overtaking him, and 
 were now come on purpose to inform him, that there were just now tidings 
 from Mount Hope ; an Indian came down from thence (where Philip's camp 
 now was) on to Sand-point, over against Trip's, and halloo'd, and made 
 signs to be fetched over, he reported, That he was fled from Philip, who, 
 
NOTES TO CANTO THIRD. 367 
 
 (said he) has killed my BROTHER just before I came away, for giving some 
 advice there displeased him. And said, he was fled for fear of meeting with 
 the same thing his brother had met with ; told them also, That Philip was 
 now in Mount Hope neck." E. 
 
 STANZA XXXIV. 
 
 And how to' dust ly sorrow borne, &c. 
 
 " Sir" (said some of the Indians to Captain Church), " you have now 
 made Philip ready to die, for you have made him as poor and miserable as he 
 used to make the English ; for you have now killed or taken all his relations. 
 That they believed he would now soon have his head, and that this bout had 
 almost broke his heart." Church. E. 
 
 
 

 NOTES TO CANTO FOURTH. 
 
 Mid mazes strange the dancers seem to fly, 
 Wildly the unwearied hunters drive the Bear. 
 
 " Us (les Iroquois et les Hurons) nomment les Pleyades, les Danseurs 
 et les Dansueses. Us donnent le nom d'Ours aux quatre premieres do ce 
 que nous appellons la grande Ourse ; les trois qui composent sa queue, ou 
 qui sont le train du Chariot de David, sont, selon eux, trois Chasseurs, qui 
 poursuivent POurs ; et la petite Etoile, qui accompagne celle du milieu, est 
 la Chaudiere dont le second est charge". Les Sauvages de 1'Acadie nom- 
 moient tout simplement cette Constellation et la suivante, la grande et la 
 petite Ourse ; mais ne pourroit-on pas juger que quand ils parloient ainsi au 
 sieur Lescarbot, ils ne re"pe"toient que ce qu'ils avoient ovii dire a plusieurs 
 Francois V Charlevoix, III. 400. 
 
 ' " It has been surprising unto me to find, that they have always called 
 Charles's Wain by the name of Paukunnawa, or The Bear, which is the 
 name by which Europeans also have distinguished it." Magnolia, III. 192. 
 
 Manitto, 
 
 Or Spirit. The word is thus written by Heckewelder. By the English 
 authors it is written Manitou, whence Mr. Campbell has it so, in " Gertrude 
 of Wyoming." 
 
 " As when the evil Manitou that dries 
 The Ohio woods," &c. 
 
 The mistake may have arisen from the French authors writing it Manitou, 
 which is pronounced Maneetou. 
 
 The incantation which I have introduced in this place, is founded on the 
 subsequent passages from Charlevoix ; which are, I believe, abundantly 
 sufficient to justify the expressions in the text, unless it be, perhaps, those in 
 the second verse of the third stanza, where the Spirit is apostrophized as the 
 Muse, or personification of the imagination itself. I have also taken the 
 liberty of ascribing to one Spirit the congenial attributes of many. If 
 Father Charlevoix has not been deceived, and led too far by his own fancy, 
 surely, the elements of poetry cannot be denied to our aborigines. 
 

 NOTES TO CANTO FOURTH. 369 
 
 " Before we launch out into the particulars of their worship, it will be 
 proper to remark that the savages give the name of Genius or Spirit to all 
 that surpasses their understanding, and proceeds from a cause that they can 
 not trace. Some of their Spirits they take to be Good, and some Bad ; of 
 the former sort are the Spirit of Dreams, &c. Of the latter sort are Thun 
 der, Hail falling upon their corn, a great Storm^ &c. La Hontan, vol. ii< 
 p. 30. The Manittos of the Lenape are the same as the Okkis of the Iro- 
 quois. Charlevoix, p. 345. 
 
 When the Indians had dreams, it was indispensable to their quiet, that the 
 vision should be immediately accomplished. One of them, who dreamed 
 that he was tormented by his enemies, had himself tied to a stake, and 
 would not be pacified until he had been severely mangled. Many stories 
 of this kind are told by Charlevoix, p. 354. The longest and most curious 
 is that of a Huron woman, narrated p. 230, in the third volume. It is too 
 long to be here inserted ; though several ideas in the text are taken from it. 
 
 STANZA I. Ver. 2. 
 Thy whisper creeps where leaves are stirred, &c. 
 
 " Et 1'on pretend que la presence de 1'Esprit se manifeste par un Vent 
 impetueux, qui se leve tout a coup ; ou par un Mugissement, que Ton entend 
 sous terre," &c. Charlevoix is here speaking, however, of the Spirit which 
 occasions mental wandering in sickness ; which I have identified with the 
 Spirit of Dreams. 
 
 STANZA II. Ver. 1. 
 
 From the land, &c. 
 
 " They (four savages from the west) further informed us, That the Nation 
 of the Asseni poulaes, whose lake is down in the map, and who lie North- 
 East of the Issalti, was not above six or seven Days Journey from us : That 
 none of the Nations within their Knowledge, who lie to the West and the 
 North- West of them, had any great Lake about their Countries, which were 
 very large, but only Rivers, which coming from the North, run cross the 
 countries of their Neighbouring Nations, which border on their Confines, on 
 the side of the Great Lake, which, in the Language of the Savages is the 
 same as sea. That Spirits, and Pigmies, or men of little Stature, did in 
 habit them, as they had been informed by People that lived farther up than 
 themselves ; and that all the nations which lie beyond their Country, and 
 those which are next to them, do dwell in Meadows and large Fields, where 
 are many wild Bulls and Castors, which are greyer than those of the North, 
 and have their Coat more inclining to Black ; with many other wild Beasts, 
 VOL. I. A A A - 
 
370 NOTES TO CANTO FOURTH. 
 
 which yield very fine Furrs." Hennepin's New Discovery of a Vast Country 
 in America, &c. London, translated with additions, 1699, 
 
 It is probable that Father Hennepin confounded the general name of the 
 sea, among the savages, with the particular name given to the Assinapoil 
 lake. Charlevoix says, " Le veritable Pays des Assinaboils est aux envi 
 rons d'un Lac, qui porte leur nom, et que 1'on connoit peu. Un Fran9ois, 
 que j'ai vu a Montreal m'a assure y avoir ete, mais il Pavoit vu, comme on 
 voit la mer dans un Port, et en passant, L' opinion commune est que ce Lac 
 a six cent lieues de circuit ; qu'on ne peut y aller que par des chemins pres- 
 que impratiquables ; que tous les Bords en sont charmans, &c. Quelques 
 Sauvages le nomment Michinipi, qui veut dire la Grande Eau, C'est bien 
 dommage que ce Lac n'ait pas ete cormu des S9avans, qui ont cherche par- 
 tout le Paradis Terrestre ; il auroit e"te pour le moins aussi bien place" la que 
 dans la Scandinavie," III. p. 185. 
 
 Ver. 2. 
 
 Then to the chief who has fasted long, &c. 
 
 * \A 
 
 " Celui qui doit commander ne songe point a lever des Soldats qu'il n'ait 
 jeune" plusieurs jours, pendant lesquels il est barbouille" de noir, n'a presque 
 point de conversation avec personne, invoque jour et nuit son Esprit tute- 
 laire, observe surtout avec soin des Songes. La persuasion ou il est, suivant 
 le ge"nie pre"somptueux de ces Barbares, qu'il va marcher a une Victoire 
 certaine, ne manque gudres de lui causer des Reves selon ses desirs." 
 Ch&rlevoix, III. p. 216. 
 
 Ver. 3. 
 
 Then shall the hunter who waits for fhee. 
 
 " C'est toujours un Chef de Guerre, qui marque le terns de la chasse de 
 Pours, et qui a soin d'inviter les chasseurs. Cette invitation est suivie d'une 
 Jeune de huit jours, pendant lesquels il n'est pas meme permis de boire une 
 goutte d'eau. Le Jeune s'obverve pour obtcnir des Esprits qu'ils fassent 
 connoitre ou 1'on trouvera beaucoup d'ours," &c. &c. Charlevoix, p. 115. 
 
 Where the hermit bear 
 Keeps his long fast. 
 
 " Le terns de la chasse de POurs est PHy ver. Alors ces Animaux sont 
 caches dans les creinc d'arbres ; ou s'ils en trouvent d'abattus, ils se font de 
 leurs Racines une Taniere, dont ils bouchent Pentrfee, avec des Branches de 
 Sapin, et ou ils sont parfaitemcnt a Pabri des rigueurs le da Saison. Si tout 
 cela leut manque, ils font un Trou en Terre, et ont grand soin, quand ils y 
 
NOTES TO CANTO FOURTH. 371 
 
 sont entres, d'en bien fermer Pouverture. On est bien assure* qu'il n'y porte 
 ancune provision, et par consequent que pendant tout ce temps-la il ne boit, 
 ni ne mange." Charlevoix, p. 117. 
 
 With regard to the state in which the savages supposed the soul to be 
 during sleep, Charlevoix has this passage. " II n'y a rien, sur quoi ces Bar- 
 bares ayent porte plus loin la superstition, et 1'extravagance, que ce qui re- 
 garde les Songes ; mais ils varient beaucoup dans la maniere, dont ils expli- 
 quent leurs pensees sur cela. Tantot c'est PAme raisonnable, qui se 
 promene, tandis que PAme sensitive continue d'animer le corps. Tantot 
 c'est le Gnie familier, qui donne des avis salutaires sur ce qui doit arriver : 
 tantot c'est une visite, qu'on regoit de PAme de PObjet, auquel on r6ve ; mais 
 de quelque fa9on, que Pon conceive le Songe, il est toujours regarde comme 
 une chose sacre"e, et comme le moyen le plus ordinaire, dont les Dieux se ser- 
 vent pour faire connoitre aux Hommes leurs volonte"s." Charlevoix, p. 354. 
 
 STANZA III. Ver. 1. 
 
 Thine the riddle, strange and dark. 
 
 It formed, according to our author, a great amusement of the savages, to 
 tell their dreams in an enigmatic manner, and compel each other to divine 
 them. A feast of dreams, as it was ordinarily called,- but which was named 
 by the Iroquois " the confusion of brains," was occasionally held. Its 
 orgies were fantastical, and sometimes dangerous ; for if any one took it 
 into his head to say that he had dreamed of killing another, the person 
 threatened had need of ready wit, to avert the literal fulfilment of the vision. 
 An account of this festival is given in Charlevoix, p. 356. There was an 
 other strange custom growing out of this superstition. Previous to entering 
 the enemies' country, the warriors ran about their camp, proclaiming their 
 obscure visions ; and he whose riddle was not satisfactorily guessed, had the 
 privilege of returning without comment or dishonour. " Voila," says Char 
 levoix, " qui donne beau jeu aux Pohrons." P. 237. These enigmas, as 
 this author repeatedly remarks, were always ascribed to the inspiration of a 
 genius. v 
 
 ' -' 
 
 Thine to yield the power to mark, &c. 
 
 " II n'est pas etonnant apres cela que les Sauvages croyent aux Reve- 
 nans : aussi en font-ils des contes de toutes les fa$ons. J'ai vu un pauvre 
 Homme, qui a force d'en entendre parler, s'eloit imagine qu'il avoit toujours 
 une troupe de Morts a ses trousses, et comme on avoit pris plaisir a aug- 
 menter sa frayeur, il en etoit devenu fou." P. 374. 
 
372 NOTES TO CANTO FOURTH. 
 
 Ver. 3. 
 
 When of thought and strength despoiled^ &c. 
 
 " On ne refuse rien au malade de ce qu'il demande, parce que,"dit -onuses 
 desirs en cet e"tat sont des ordres du Genie, qui veille a sa conservation ; et 
 quand on appelle les Jongleurs, c'est moins a cause de leur habilite", que 
 parce qu' on suppose, qu'ils peuvent mieux sgavoir des Esprits la cause du 
 mal, et les remedes, qu'il y faut appliquer." " Selon les Iroquois, toute 
 Maladie est un desir de 1'Ame, et on ne meurt, que parce que le desir n'est 
 pas accompli." P. 367-370. 
 
 In consequence of this superstition, they would not begrudge any trouble 
 or danger, to satisfy the wildest wishes of an invalid. The jugglers or 
 quack doctors among them, take advantage of this belief, to prescribe, in 
 desperate cases, the accomplishment of some impossible task, which they 
 pretend is wished by the patient, as the Spirits have revealed to them. 
 Id. p. 368. 
 
 Ver. 4. ' 
 
 When the dizzy senses spin, &c. 
 
 Fools and madmen were supposed to be entirely under the influence of 
 Spirits. The words of the latter were regarded as oracles. Idem. 
 
 Like the Powah, when first within, 
 The present Spirit feeling. 
 
 " II se commence (le Jongleur) par se faire suer, et quand il est bien 
 fatigue a crier, a, se debattre, et a invoquer son Genie, &c. Alors, plein de 
 sa pretendue Divinite, et plus smblable a un Energumene, qu'a un homme 
 inspire du Ciel," &c. Idem. 
 
 " The Conjurer is a partner with the Priest, not only in the Cheat, but in 
 the Advantages of it, and sometimes they officiate for one another. When 
 this Artist is in the act of Conjuration, or of Pauwawing, as they term it, he 
 always appears with an Air of Haste, or else in some convulsive posture, 
 that seems to strain all the Faculties, like the Sybils, when they pretended to 
 be under the power of Inspiration." History of Virginia, p. 183. 
 
 STANZA V. 
 Loose o'er his frame the bear-skin hung. 
 
 " Of all the sights I ever saw among them, none appeared so near akin to 
 what is usually imagined of infernal powers, as the appearance of one who 
 

 NOTES TO CANTO FOURTH. 373 
 
 was a devout and zealous reformer, or rather restorer, of what he supposed 
 was the ancient religion of the Indians. He made his appearance in his 
 pontifical garb, which was a coat of bear-skins, dressed with the hair on, and 
 hanging down to his toes, a pair of bear-skin stockings, and- a great wooden 
 face," &c. Brainerd's Diary. E. 
 
 The Habit of the Indian Priest is a Cloak made in the Form of a Wo 
 man's Petticoat ; but instead of tying it about their middle, they fasten the 
 Gatherings about their neck, and tye it upon the Right Shoulder, always 
 keeping one Arm out to use upon Occasion. This Cloak hangs even at the 
 Bottom, but reaches no lower than the middle of the thigh ; but what is 
 most particular in it is, that it is constantly made of a Skin drest soft, with 
 the Pelt or Fur on the Outside, and revers'd ; insomuch, that when the 
 Cloak has been a little worn, the Hair falls down in Flakes, and looks very 
 shagged and Frightful." History of Virginia, p. 143. 
 
 STANZA VI. 
 
 O saw ye that gleaming unearthly of light ? 
 
 " Among their various superstitions, they [the Algonquins] believe that 
 the vapour which is seen to hover over moist and swampy places, is the 
 spirit of some person lately dead." Mackenzie. E. 
 
 STANZA VII. 
 
 Since earth from the deep 
 
 Rose green o'er the waters. 
 
 See the first note to Canto III. There are many varieties in the account 
 of the creation, given by the Indians, all agreeing in the circumstance of the 
 earth's emerging from the deep. It is unnecessary to quote them here. 
 
 He perished, the Mammoth. 
 
 An Indian chief, of the Delaware tribe, who visited the Governor of Vir 
 ginia during the revolution, informed him " that it was a tradition handed 
 down from their fathers, that in ancient times a herd of these tremendous 
 animals came to the Bick-bone licks, and began an universal destruction of 
 the bear, deer, elk, buffalo^ and other animals which had been created for the 
 use of the Indians. That the great Man above, looking down and seeing 
 this, was so enraged, that he seized his lightning^ descended on the earth, 
 seated himself on a neighbouring mountain, on a rock (on which his seat 
 and the prints of his feet are. still to be seen), and hurled his bolts among 
 them, till the whole were slaughtered, except the big bull, who, presenting 
 his forehead to the shafts, shook them off as they fell, but, missing one at 
 
 
374 NOTES TO CANTO FOURTH. 
 
 length, it wounded him in the side, whereon, springing round, he bounded 
 over the Ohio, the Wabash, the Illinois, and finally over the great lakes, 
 where he is living at this day." Jefferson's Notes. 
 
 Yokewah. 
 
 I have retained this word in the text, because it sounds well ; and, for 
 the purposes of poetry, it is of little consequence whether it be a significant 
 word, or a mere series of guttural noises. Yo-he-woh, as it is written by 
 Adair, is precisely the noise made by the sailors, when hauling together ; and 
 as the Indians used it during their most violent dances, it is likely that similar 
 exertions produced similar sounds ; the giving utterance to which, in some 
 measure, alleviated the pain of the effort. No doubt an Indian, when chop 
 ping wood, makes the same sort of grunt that a white man does. In like 
 manner, Allelujah, or the sound resembling it, which the Indians are said to 
 utter, is no more to be derived from the Hebrew, than from the Greek xxev, 
 or the Irish howl, Ullaloa, or the English Halloa. 
 
 Where now are the giants, the soil who possessed ? 
 
 See the first chapter of Heckewelder's " Historical Account," &c. The 
 tradition of the Lenape is, that when their fathers crossed the Mississippi, they 
 met, on this side of it, with a nation called Alligewi, from whom, the author 
 says, the Alleghany river and mountains received their name. " Many won 
 derful things are told of this famous people. They are said to have been re 
 markably stout and tall, and there is a tradition that there were giants among 
 them; people of a much larger size than the tallest of the Lenape. It is 
 related that they had built to themselves regular fortifications, or entrench 
 ments, from whence they would sally out, but were generally repulsed." Mr. 
 H. describes two entrenchments he has seen. " Outside of the gateway of 
 each of these two entrenchments, which lay within a mile of each other, 
 were a number of large flat mounds, in which, the Indian pilot said, were 
 buried hundreds of the slain Talligewi, whom I shall hereafter, with Col. 
 Gibson, call Alligewi." The traces of gigantic feet, in different parts of the 
 country, mentioned in several books, are ascribed to this people in the text. 
 
 STANZA VIII. 
 Lo ! even now like some tree where a Spirit before, &c. 
 
 " Autrefois les Sauvages voisins de 1'Acadie avoient dans leur Pays surle 
 bord de la Mer un Arbre extre"mement vieux, dont ils racontoient bien des 
 merveilles, et qu'on voyoit toujours charge" d'offrandes. La Mer ayant de- 
 couvert toute sa racine, il se soutint encore longtems presqu'en 1'air contre la 
 violence des vents et des flots, ce qui confirma ces Sauvages dans la pense~e 
 qu'il etoit le siege de quelque grand Esprit : sa chute ne fut pas m^me capn- 
 
.<* 
 
 NOTES TO CANTO FOURTH. 375 
 
 ble de les d e tromper, et tant qu'il en parut quelque bout de branches hors de 
 1'eau, on lui rendit les memes honneurs, qu'avoit re9us tout 1'Arbre, lorsqu'il 
 etoit surpied." Charlevoix, p. 349. 
 
 The simile of Lucan must occur to every classical reader : 
 Qualis frugifero quercus sublimis in agro 
 Exuvias veteres populi, sacrata que gestans 
 Dona ducum ; nee jam validis radicibus haerens, 
 Pondere fixa suo est ; nudosque per aera ramos 
 Effundens, trunco, non frondibus, efficit umbram. 
 
 Our nations, the children of earth. 
 
 See Mr. Heckewelder, chapter xxxiv. and Charlevoix, p. 344, and as 
 before quoted, for the Indian ideas of the origin of mankind. The latter 
 author mentions various and different accounts ; one of which coincides 
 with that of the former. According to both authors, the Indians only con 
 sidered man as the first of animals. They had a future state for the souls 
 of bears, &c. as well as for those of men. Mr. Heckewelder quotes this 
 tradition from a MS. of the Reverend Christopher Pyrlseus : " That they 
 [the Iroquois] had dwelt in the earth where it was dark, and where no sun 
 did shine. That though they followed hunting, they ate mice, which they 
 caught with their hands. That Gauawagahha (one of them) having acci 
 dentally found a hole to get out of the earth at, he went out, and that in 
 walking about on the earth, he found a deer, which he took back with him, 
 and that, both on account of the meat tasting so very good, and the favour 
 able description he had given them of the country above and on the earth, 
 their mother concluded it best for them all to come out ; that accord 
 ingly they did so, and immediately set about planting corn, &c. That, 
 however, the Nocharanorsul, that is, the ground hog, would not come out, 
 but had remained in the ground as before." For this reason, they would 
 not eat this animal. Mr. Heckewelder says that this tradition is common to 
 the Iroquois and Lenape. It resembles the account given by JEschilus, of 
 the state in which Prometheus found mankind : 
 
 KAuovrt? OVK tjKovov' aAA' dvipdr<av 
 'A\iyitioi nop<pdiai, rov paicpov "xjpdvov 
 *E0upov liKrj iravra, KOVTI -rrXivdv<f>is 
 A<5//ovs -rrpofffiXovs rjaav, oil %v\ovpyiaV 
 
 5' svaiov, w<rr' drjavpoi 
 s, avrpwv Iv //t)%ot j avqXtois. K. T. X. 
 
 
376 NOTES TO CANTO FOURTH. 
 
 STANZA X. 
 
 Like the swarms of the doves o'er the meads that descend. 
 
 " We imbarqued and made towards a meadow, in the neighbourhood of 
 which the trees were covered with that sort of Fowl more than with leaves : 
 For just then 'twas the season in which they retire from the North Coun 
 tries, and repair to the Southern Climates ; and one would have thought that 
 all the Turtle-Doves upon Earth had chose to pass through this place. For 
 the eighteen or twenty days that we stay'd there, I firmly believe that a 
 thousand men might have fed upon 'em heartily, without putting themselves 
 to any trouble." La Honlan, i. p. 62. 
 
 " L'autre Manne, dont j'ai parle, est une espece de Ramiers, qui passent 
 ici dans les mois de Mai et de Juin ; on dit qu'autrefois ils obscurcissoient 
 1'Air par leur multitude ; mais ce n'est plus la meme chose aujourd'hui. 
 II en vient encore neanmoins jusqu'aux environs des Villes un assez grand 
 nombre se reposer sur les arbres. On les appelle communement Tourtes, et 
 ils different en effet des Ramiers, des Tourterelles et des Pigeons d'Europe, 
 assez pour en faire un quatrieme espece. Ils sont plus petits que nos plus 
 gros Pigeons, dont ils ont les Yeux, et les Nuances de la Gorge. Leur 
 Plumage est d'un brun obscur, a 1'exception des Ailes, ou il y a des plumes 
 d'un tres-bien Bleu. On diroit que ces Oiseaux ne cherchent qu'a se faire 
 tuer ; car s'il y a quelque Branche seche a un Arbre, c'est celle-la, qu'ils 
 choisissent pour se percher, et ils se rangent de maniere, que le plus mal 
 adroit Tireur en peut abattre une demie douzaine au moins d'un seul coup 
 de Fusil." Charlevoix, p. 171. 
 
 STANZA XL 
 
 Like the plants which by pure hands of virgins alone 
 
 Must be plucked. 
 
 " L'on montre certaines Plantes fort salutaires, qui n'ont point de virtu, 
 disent les Sauvages, si ellcs ne sont employees par des mains vierges." 
 Idem, 350. 
 
 The foul bird of avarice. 
 The Hawk. See a Note to the First Canto. 
 
NOTES TO CANTO FOURTH. 377 
 
 *$*&'. ' ''"' 
 
 ,V 
 
 STANZA XII. 
 
 The avenging Spirit's fiery breath 
 Had poured thz withering storm of death, &c. 
 A superstition akin to this is recorded in Carver's Travels, p. 30. 
 
 Stolen when polluted walls were razed, &c. 
 
 This being a sacrifice to evil spirits, its materials were supplied by the 
 opposites to all that was esteemed holy. As it is founded in error and mis 
 take, the following Notes are selected merely to show whence the ideas in 
 the text were derived ; and by no means to support them. 
 
 " The Indian women are remarkably decent during their periodical ill 
 ness ; those nations that are most remote from the European settlements, as 
 the Nadowessies, &c. are more particularly attentive to this point ; though 
 they all without exception adhere in some degree to the same custom. In 
 every camp or town there is an apartment appropriated for their retirement 
 at this time, to which they retreat, and seclude themselves with the utmost 
 strictness, during this period, from all society," &c. Carver. The rest of 
 the passage with respect to the polluted fires is extracted in the Notes to 
 Canto First. The author in another place says, that these houses were 
 fired, and immediately abandoned. See also Mackenzie, Adair, &c. 
 
 STANZA XIV. 
 
 The Pow-wahs, &c. 
 
 u The manner of their devotion was, to kindle large fires in their wig 
 wams, or in the open fields, and to sing and dance round them in a wild 
 and violent manner. Sometimes they would all shout aloud, with the 
 most antic and hideous notes. They made rattles of shells, which they 
 shook in a wild and violent manner, to fill up the confused noise. Their 
 priests, or powahs, led in these exercises. They were dressed in the most 
 odd and surprising manner, with skins of odious and frightful creatures 
 about their heads, faces, arms, and bodies. They painted themselves in the 
 most ugly forms which could be devised. They sometimes sang, and then 
 broke forth into strong invocations, with starts, and strange motions and 
 passions. When these ceased, the other Indians groaned, making wild and 
 doleful sounds. At these times they sacrificed their skins, Indian money, 
 and the best of their treasures. These were taken by their Powahs, and all 
 cast into the fires and consumed together. The English were also persuaded 
 that they sometimes sacrificed their children as well as their most valuable 
 commodities. Milford people observing an Indian child, nearly at one of 
 these times of their devotion, dressed in an extraordinary manner, with all 
 VOL. I - B B B 
 
378 NOTES TO CANTO FOURTH. 
 
 kinds of Indian finery, had the curiosity to inquire what could be the reason. 
 The Indians answered that it was to be sacrificed, and the people supposed 
 that it was given to the devil. The Evil Spirit which the New-England 
 Indians called Hobbam-ocko [or Hobam-oqui], the Virginia Indians called 
 Okee. So deluded were these unhappy people, that they believed these 
 barbarous sacrifices to be absolutely necessary. They imagined that unless 
 they appeased and conciliated their gods in this manner, they would neither 
 suffer them to have peace nor harvests." Trumbull, I. p. 49. The Histo 
 rian of Connecticut, on the authority of Mather and Purchas, thus assents to 
 the popular belief with regard to the custom of human sacrifices among the 
 Indians. In page 51 he has this passage, " The stoutest and most promis 
 ing boys were chosen, and trained up with peculiar care in the observation 
 of certain Indian rites and customs. They were kept from all delicious 
 meats, trained to coarse fare, and made to drink the juice of bitter herbs 
 until it occasioned violent vomitings. They were beaten over their legs and 
 shins with sticks, and made to run through brambles and thickets to make 
 them hardy, and, as the Indians said, to render them more acceptable to 
 Hobbam-ocko." This is undoubtedly the same custom mentioned in the 
 previous extract ; and is precisely that which prevailed among the Indians 
 of Virginia, as seen by Captain John Smith, and which he thought was a 
 sacrifice to the devil. His account is preserved in Purchas, and in the His 
 tory of Virginia ; and is explained in the latter book by the ceremony of 
 Huskanawing. See a Note to Canto First. Heckewelder calls it the Initia 
 tion of Boys; and Charlevoix, "getting a tutelary Genius," iii. p. 346. 
 See the notes to the Key. Dr. Jarvis' Discourse ; where most of the authori 
 ties on this subject are quoted. It is fully manifest that there was no such 
 thing as the sacrifice of children among our Indians. The plot of the poem 
 was hastily formed, when we had scarcely read any thing on the manners of 
 the Indians, or even the history of the times. This ignorance led us, not 
 only to introduce a rite which never had any existence, but to ascribe to 
 Philip a useless piece of treachery and cruelty, with scarcely any necessity 
 for it, even in supporting the fiction. I have endeavoured to make the 
 incantations consistent with themselves, and with the error we fell into. 
 As originally written, by myself, they did not possess even that merit. It 
 is unnecessary to quote more from the old writers on the New-England 
 Indians, to show their belief on this subject. They all agree, pretty much 
 in the same point. " 'Tis an unusual thing for them," says Mather, " to 
 have their Assemblies, wherein, after the usage of some Diabolical Rites, a 
 Devil appears unto them, to inform them and advise them about their cir 
 cumstances ; and sometimes there are odd Events of their making these 
 applications to the Devil. For instance, 'tis particularly affirmed, That the 
 Indians in their wars with us, finding a sore inconvenience by our Dags y 
 sacrificed a Dog to the Devil ; after which no English Dog would bark at an 
 Indian for divers months ensuing." Magnalia, iii. 192. What interpreter 
 
 a & a JX-.UK? 
 

 NOTES TO CANTO FOURTH. 879 
 
 the Devil had on thse occasions does not appear. That he did not under 
 stand the Indian tongue is manifest from what our author says himself 
 immediately after. " Once finding that the Damons in a possessed young 
 Woman understood the Latin, and Greek, and Hebrew Languages, my 
 Curiosity led me to make Trial of this Indian Language, and the Damons 
 did seem as if they did not understand it." Daniel Gookin gives this 
 account of the matter. " Their religion is as other gentiles are. Some, for 
 their God, adore the Sun ; others the moon ; some the earth ; others the 
 fire ; and like vanities. [This is confounding the Spirits, or ministerial 
 agencies, with the One Supreme Being, whom the Indians undoubtedly 
 worshipped, as the writer goes on to say.] Yet generally they acknow 
 ledge One great supreme doer of good ; and him they call Wonand, or Man- 
 nitt : another that is the great doer of evil or mischief ; and him they call 
 Mattand, which is the devil ; and him they dread and fear more than they 
 love and honour the former chief good, which is God. There are among 
 them certain men and women whom they call powows. These are partly 
 wizards and witches, holding familiarity with Satan, that evil one ; and 
 partly are physicians, and make use, at least in show, of herbs and roots, for 
 curing the sick and diseased, &c. The powows are reputed, and I conceive 
 justly, to hold familiarity with the devil ; and therefore are, by the English 
 laws, prohibited the exercise of their diabolical practices within the English 
 jurisdiction, under the penalty of five pounds, and^the procurer, five pounds, 
 and every person present twenty pence. Satan doth strongly endeavour 
 to keep up this practice among the Indians, and these powows are lactors 
 for the devil," &c. Gookin, p. 14. 
 
 Even Charlevoix believed in this absurd superstition. " II est encore 
 vrai que le Jongleurs roncontrent trop souvent juste dans leur Predictions, 
 pour croire qu'ils devinent toujours par hazard, et qu'il se passe dans ces 
 occasions des choses, qu'il n'est presque pas possible d'attribuer a aucun 
 secret, naturel. On a vu les pieux dont ces Etuves etoient fermees, se 
 courber jusqu'a terre tandis que le Jongleur se tenoit tranquille, sans 
 remuer, sans y toucher, qu'il chantoit, et qu'il pre"disoit 1'avenir. Les Let- 
 tres des anciens Missionaires sont remplies de fails, qui ne laissent aucun 
 doute que ces Seducteurs n'ayent un veritable commerce avee le Pere de la 
 seduction et du mensonge." III. 362. 
 
 Some writers, on the contrary, have gone too far, in asserting that the 
 Indians had no knowledge of the Evil Spirit. The prophet, mentioned by 
 Brainerd, who pretended to restore the ancient religion of the Indians, told 
 him " that there was no such creature as the devil known among the Indians 
 of old times." Baron La Hontan very dryly remarks, " that, in speaking of 
 the devil, they do not mean that Evil Spirit that in Europe is represented 
 under the figure of a Man, with a long Tail, and great Horns and Claws." 
 His conclusion on the subject appears to be correct " that these Ecclesias- 
 ticks [Jugglers] did not understand the true import of that great word 
 
380 NOTES TO CANTO FOURTH. 
 
 Matchi Manilou. For by the Devil they understand such things as are 
 offensive to 'em, which, in our language, comes near to the signification of 
 Misfortune, Fate, Unfavourable Destiny," &c. It was to deprecate the wrath 
 of these baleful agencies, and not to conciliate their friendship and court 
 their alliance, that sacrifices were offered to them. History of Virginia, 
 170. The Indian worship extended to all the objects of nature. The Spirits 
 of groves, torrents, mountains, rivers, and caves, had all their adorers and 
 oblations. The minutest and most contemptible particle of matter, by the 
 craft of the Juggler, or sickly fancy of the patient, became a genius, and was 
 connected with a magic spell. How far their philosophy went, in the ado 
 ration of moral influences, seems more questionable ; and though they are 
 said to be believers in destiny, their worship of Fate, which La Hontan 
 seems to imply, is highly improbable. As to their Witchcraft, no doubt its 
 professors may have pretended a familiarity with the powers of evil. Their 
 tricks were as simple and ridiculous, and often as fatal, as those of the praor 
 tiser$ of the Obeah art among the negroes. 
 
 Save their girdles rude from the otter torn, &c. 
 
 " The Conjuror shaves all his hair off, except the crest on the crown ; upon 
 his Ear he wears the Skin of some dark-coloured Bird ; he, as well as the 
 Priest, is commonly grim'd with Soot, or the like ; he hangs an Otter skin 
 at his girdle," &c. *' He has a black Bird, with expanded wings, fastened to 
 his Ear." History of Virginia, p. 143, 183. " Les os et les Peaux des 
 Serpens servent aussi beaucoup aux Jongleurs et aux Sorciers, pour faire 
 leurs prestiges ; et ils se font des bandeaux et des Ceintures de leurs Peaux." 
 <* Un Jongleur paroit ensuite, ayant a la main un baton orne de plumes par 
 le moyen duquel il se vantoit de deviner les choses les plus cache"es." Char- 
 levoix. The chichicoe, orchichicou, is a rattle, made of different materials, 
 sometimes of a gourd, &c. It generally formed the music of a powowing 
 assembly, and is mentioned under the same name by many different writers. 
 See Carver, Charlevoix, History of Virginia, <fcc. " He advanced toward 
 me with the instrument in his hand, that he used for music in his idolatrous 
 worship, which was a dry tortoise shell, with some corn in it, and the neck 
 of it drawn on a piece of wood, which made a very convenient handle." - 
 Brainerd's Diary. E. The mode of painting the bodies, described in the 
 text, is mentioned by Carver and Charlevoix. 
 
 STANZA XV. 
 
 A woman once. 
 
 The Indian women are described as peculiarly addicted to the worship of 
 evil spirits. Charlevoix, p. 359, 360. 
 
NOTES TO CANTO FOURTH. 381 
 
 STANZA XVI. 
 
 And now began the Initiates 1 Dance. 
 
 The term " Initiate" is borrowed from Carver. He uses it, however, in 
 reference to those who were admitted into " The Friendly Society of the 
 Spirit." p. 175. He mentions, in the same place, the Pawwah, or Black 
 Dance, by which the Devil was supposed to be raised. The Dances of the 
 Indians are described in so many places, and their mode is so well known, 
 that I shall only insert the note left by my friend, from the Diary of Brainerd. 
 
 "Lord's day, Sept.. 21. I spent the day with the Indians on the island. 
 As soon as they were up in the morning I attempted to instruct them, and 
 laboured to get them together, but quickly found they had something else to 
 do ; for they gathered together all their powwows, and set about half a dozen 
 of them to playing their tricks, and acting their frantic postures, in order to 
 find out why they were so sickly, numbers of them being at that time disor 
 dered with a fever and bloody flux. In this they were engaged for several 
 hours, making all the wild, distracted motions imaginable ; sometimes sing 
 ing, sometimes howling, sometimes extending their hands to the utmost 
 stretch, spreading all their fingers, and seemed to push with them, as if they 
 designed to fright something away, or at least keep it at arm's end ; some 
 times sitting flat on the earth ; then bowing down their faces to the ground ; 
 wringing their sides, as if in pain and anguish ; twisting their faces, turning 
 up their eyes, grunting or puffing. These monstrous actions seemed to have 
 something in them peculiarly suited to raise the devil, if he could be raised 
 by any thing odd and frightful. Some of them were much more fervent in 
 the business than others, and seemed to chant, peep, and mutter, with a great 
 degree of warmth and vigour. I sat about thirty feet from them (though 
 undiscovered), with my Bible in my hand, resolving, if possible, to spoil 
 their sport, and prevent their receiving any answer from the infernal 
 world." E. 
 
 Then pealed, the loud hah-hah! 
 
 " Heh, heh, heh, These notes, if they might be so termed, are articu 
 lated with a harsh accent, and strained out with the utmost force of their 
 lungs." " Whoo, Whoo, V/hoop, is continued in a long, shrill tone, nearly 
 till the breath is exhausted, and then broken off with a sudden elevation of 
 the voice." Carver, 172, 217. 
 
 I 
 
382 NOTES TO CANTO FOURTH. 
 
 STANZA XVII. 
 
 Beyond the hills the Spirit sleeps. 
 
 The Sun was often worshipped as the visible God. In the most solemn 
 sacrifices, the fire was sometimes kindled from his heat. Carver, La Hon- 
 tan, vol. second. The Hurons are said to have confounded Areskoui with 
 the Sun. Charlevoix. When the Sun has set, they say he is dead. Car 
 ver, Charlevoix, III. 219. Adair, 76. 
 
 The Wakon Cave. 
 
 See a note in Canto First, and on the " Wakon-Bird," in the notes to 
 Canto Second. 
 
 STANZA XVIII. 
 
 . I *r I 
 
 Your serpent scar 
 On the blasted trunk is graven. 
 
 " Ces Peuples ne connoissent pas mieux la nature du Tonnerre ; quelques 
 uns le prenoient pour la voix d'une espece particuliere d'Hommes, qui vo- 
 loient dans les airs : d'autres disoient que ce bruit venoit de certains Oiseaux, 
 qui leur etoient inconnus. Selon les Montaguais, c'etoit 1'effort, que faisoit 
 une Ge"nie pour vomir une Couleuvre, qu'il avoit avalee ; et ils appuyoient 
 ce sentiment sur ce que, quand le Tonnerre etoit tomb6 sur un Arbre, on y 
 voyoit une figure assez approchante de celle d'une Couleuvre." Charle 
 voix, iii. 401. 
 
 The other superstitions referred to in this stanza, being local, and some 
 of them belonging, moreover, to the Hurons, are far-fetched for an Incanta 
 tion of the New-England Powaws. Transeant cum cateris. "Nearly half 
 way between Saganaum Bay and the north-west corner of the Lake, lies an 
 other, which is termed Thunder Bay. The Indians, who have frequented 
 these parts from time immemorial, and every European traveller that has 
 passed through it, have unanimously agreed to call it by this name." Car 
 ver, 91. " One of the Chipeway chiefs told me that some of their people, 
 being once driven on the island of Maurepas, found on it large quantities of 
 heavy, shining, yellow sand, that, from their description, must have been 
 gold dust. Being struck with the beautiful appearance of it, in the morning, 
 when they re-entered their canoe, they attempted to bring some away ; but 
 a spirit, of an amazing size, according to their account, sixty feet in height, 
 strode in the water after them, and commanded them to deliver back what 
 they had taken away. Since this incident, no Indian that has ever heard of 
 it will venture near the same haunted coast." Idem, 85. This island is 
 known by the name of Manataulin, which signifies a Place of Spirits, and is 
 
NOTES TO CANTO FOURTH. 
 
 considered by the Indians as sacred as those already mentioned in Lake Su 
 perior. Two small islands near Detroit were called " les Isles de Serpens a. 
 Sonnettes ;" Charlevoix says, "on assure qu'elles sont tellement remplies de 
 ces Animaux, que 1'Air en est infecte." Serpent worship was common to 
 all the Indians, but more peculiarly cultivated among some nations, as the 
 Malhomines. Charlevoix, 291. 
 
 STANZA XIX. 
 
 Come ye hither who o'er the thatch 
 Of the coward murderer hold your watch. 
 
 " Les Hurons etendoient le corps mort sur des Perches, au haut d'une 
 Cabanne, et le Meurtrier toit oblige de se tenir plusieurs jours de suite im- 
 mediatement au dessous, et de recevoir tout ce qui decouloit de ce Cadavre, 
 non-seulement sur soi, mais encore sur son manger, qu'on mettoit aupres de 
 lui, a moins que par un present considerable, fait a la Cabanne de Defunt il 
 n'obtint de garantir ses Vivres de ce Poison." Charlevoix, III. p. 274. 
 
 STANZA XX. 
 
 Come ye who give power 
 
 To the curse that is said, &c. 
 
 " On a vvi des Filles s'etrangler, pour avoir re9u une reprimande assez 
 legere de leurs Meres, ou quelques gouttes d'Eau au Visage, et 1'en avertir 
 en lui disant, Tu ri* auras plus de Fille." Id. 226. 
 
 STANZA XXI. 
 
 Come ye who as hawks hover o'er 
 
 The spot where the war-club is lying. 
 
 As a commencement of hostilities, according to Heckewelder, the Indians 
 murder one of the enemy, and leave the war-club lying near the body ; it is 
 painted with their devices, that the party attacked may know their enemies, 
 and not execute revenge on an innocent tribe. Page 165. 
 
 .7?*? I . .ri . 
 
384 NOTES TO CANTO FOURTH. 
 
 STANZA. XXII. 
 
 Ye who at the sick man's bed, &c. 
 
 As before mentioned, sickness is always ascribed to the agency of some 
 spirit, of whatever form the Juggler's fancy pleases, which must be driven 
 out of the patient before his recovery can be effected. If the force of imagi 
 nation, in sickness, be duly considered, the practice of treating all diseases 
 as cases of hypochondria, may not be so ridiculous as the fantastic manoeu 
 vres of these quacks would, at first sight, imply. 
 
 STANZA XXIIL 
 
 And ye who delight, 
 The soul to affright, &c. 
 
 " Us disent que 1'Ame separee du corps conserve les memes inclinations, 
 qu'elle avoit auparavant, et c'est la raison pourquoi ils enterrent avec les 
 Morts tout ce qui etoit a leur usage." " Les Ames lorsque le terns est venu 
 qu'elles doivent se separer pour tonjours de leurs corps, vont dans une 
 Region, qui est destine'e pour etre leur demeure eternelle. Cette Region, 
 disent les Sauvages, est fort e'loignee vers 1'Occident, et les Ames mettent 
 plusieurs mois a s'y rendre. Elles ont meme de grandes difficultes a sur- 
 monter, et elles courent de grands risques, avant que d'y arriver." " Dans 
 le Pays des Ames, selon quelques-uns, 1'Ame est transform^ en Tour- 
 terelle." Charlevoix, p. 351, 352. 
 
 STANZA XXV. 
 
 Not beneath the mantle blue, 
 Spread below Yohewah's feet, &c. 
 
 Sacrifices to good Spirits were made when the sky was clear, the air 
 serene, &c. La Hontan, ii. 31, 32. 
 
 serpent god. 
 
 This is one of the forms under which the Indians supposed the Evil Spirit 
 to appear. " Another power they worship whom they call Hobbamock, and 
 to the northward of us Hobbamoqui ; this as farre as wee can conceive is the 
 devil); him they call upon to cure their wounds and diseases. This Hob- 
 bomock appears in sundry formes unto them, as in the shape of a man, a 
 deare, a fawne, an eagle, &c., but most ordinarily as a Snake." Winslow's 
 * Good News from New-England," Anno 1622, in Purchas, iv. p. 1867. 
 And see ante, notes on this Canto, 
 
NOTES TO CANTO FOURTH. 385 
 
 STANZA XXVIII. 
 
 The hawks high are roving. 
 
 " Before a thunder-shower, these birds [night-hawks] are seen at an 
 amazing height in the air, assembled together in^great numbers." Carver. 
 
 The elk-skin about him, 
 The crow-skin above. 
 
 It has been already mentioned, that the skin of some dark coloured bird 
 was made use of at all conjurations. The elk-skin was also employed, 
 according to Carver and others. Charlevoix says that it was always con 
 sidered a good omen to dream of the elk. 
 
 *$ 
 VOL. I. C C C 
 
 
NOTES TO CANTO FIFTH. 
 
 STANZA II. 
 
 Where yon old elm its arm extends, &c. 
 
 " They also fancy another spirit which appears in the shape of a man 
 upon the trees near the lodge of a person deceased, whose property has not 
 been interred with them. He is represented as bearing a gun in his hand, 
 and it is believed that he does not return to his rest until the property that 
 has been withheld from the grave has been sacrificed to it." M'Kenzie'* 
 Hist, of the Fur Trade, p. 74. 
 
 STANZA VI. 
 
 Like some lone bird whose pinions hover, &c. 
 
 M. de Champlain remarked, among the fishes in the Lake which bears his 
 name, one called by the savages Chdousarou, which is termed by Charlevoix 
 " Le Poisson Arme"." ' II a le corps a peu pres de la figure d'un Brochet ; 
 mais il est convert d'une Ecaille a l'e"preuve du Poignard ; sa couleur est 
 d'un gris argente", et il lui sorte de dessous la Gueule une Arete platte, den- 
 tele"e, creuse et percee par le bout, &c. Un tel Animal est un vrai Pirate 
 parmi les Habitans des Eaux ; mais on n'imagineroit peutfitre pas qu'il fait 
 aussi la Guerre aux Habitans des Airs ; il la fait neanmoins, et en habile 
 Chasseur ; voici comment. II se cache dans les Roseaux, de telle sorte 
 qu'on ne peut voir que son Arme, qu'il tient eleve"e perpendiculairement au- 
 dessus de 1'Eau. Les Oiseaux qui viennent pour se reposer, prennent cette 
 Arme pour un Roseau sec, ou un morceau de Bois, et se perchent dessus. 
 II n'y sont pas pltitot, que la Poisson ouvre la Gueule, et fait si subitement le 
 mouvement ncessaire pour ravir sa Proye, que rarement elle lui e"chape," 
 &c. Charlevoix, p. 1 63. 
 
NOTES TO CANTO FIFTH. 387 
 
 Even the vile fox's part essay. 
 
 The fox is said by Charlevoix to play the part of jackall for the carcajou, 
 or quincajou, as it is termed by him. 
 
 STANZA IX. 
 
 The carcajou about him dart. 
 
 " This creature, which is of the cat kind, is a terrible enemy to the deer, 
 elk, moose, carraboo, &c. He either comes upon them from some conceal 
 ment unperceived, or climbs up into a tree, and waits till one of them, driven 
 by an extreme of heat or cold, takes shelter under it ; when he fastens upon 
 his neck, and opening the jugular vein, soon brings his prey to the ground. 
 This he is enabled to do by his long tail, with which he encircles the body 
 of his adversary ; and the only means they have to shun their fate, is by 
 flying immediately to the water ; by this method, as the carcajou has a 
 great dislike to that element, he is sometimes got rid of before he can effect 
 his purpose." Carver. 
 
 STANZA XII. 
 
 Low in the swamp's unequal ground, &c. 
 
 This is an error which I omitted to correct. The Indians were not in the 
 swamp, but on an upland, as is mentioned, correctly, in the Sixth Canto. 
 
 STANZA XIV. 
 
 Tradition meet for vulgar faith, &c. 
 
 Philip was said to have seen the devil in a dream the night before he wag 
 killed. Hubbard merely notices it in a parenthesis. " Whether the devil 
 appeared to him in a dream that night, as he did unto Saul, foreboding his 
 tragical end, it matters not." Increase Mather says, " It seemeth that 
 night Philip (like the man in the host of Midian) dreamed that he was fallen 
 into the hands of the English, and just as he was saying to those that were 
 with him, that they must fly for their lives that day, lest the Indian that was 
 gone from him should discover where he was, Our Souldiers came upon him," 
 &c. Cotton Mather borrows the account from his namesake. " That very 
 night Philip (like the Man in the Army of Midian) had been dreaming that 
 he was faWn into the hands of the English" &c. Connecting the story of 
 the dream with what Mather says Philip's Powaws had told him, with the 
 vision said to be revealed during the ceremony of Huskanawing, and the 
 belief in Destiny, which the Indians are said by Adair to entertain, I have 
 
388 NOTES TO CANTO FIFTH. 
 
 endeavoured to make some poetical use of those several superstitions ; and 
 to give some unity to that part of the plot which is taken from history. I 
 have made Ahauton shoot Philip ; though that exploit is said, by Increase 
 Mather, to have been performed by a Pocasset Indian, named Alderman by 
 the English. 
 
 There was a tradition that Philip and the Devil used to amuse themselves, 
 during their nocturnal interviews, by pitching quoits from the top of Mount 
 Hope to Popasquash neck. I have understood that some large flat stones are 
 still to be seen at the latter place, which are singularly situated ; and that 
 the mark of a large foot is visible somewhere on the rocks in the vicinity of 
 Mount Hope, which was once attributed to the impress of the Devil. 
 
 STANZA XV. 
 
 Massasoiet Ouamsutta Uncompo'en,. 
 See the Notes to Canto First. 
 
 Calumets. 
 
 Carver says he knows not why the Pipe of Peace was so termed by the 
 French. La Hontan, in his explanatory Table, says, " Calumet in general 
 signifies a Pipe, being a Norman Word, deriv'd from CHALUMEAU. The 
 Savages do not understand this Word. The Pipe of Peace is called in the 
 Iroquese Language Ganondaoe, and by the other Savage Nations Poagem" 
 
 Flutes and labours. 
 
 The Indians had rude musical instruments resembling these. To the 
 south, as might be expected, their music was more tolerable, or rather, less 
 execrable than in the north. See Bartram's Travels. 
 
 STANZA XVI. 
 
 Assawomsett's lake Sausaman* 
 See Notes to Canto First. 
 
 STANZA XVII. 
 
 MetapoiseCs forest Weetamoe. 
 
 "AugustG. Twenty Souldiers marched out of Taunton, and took all 
 those Indians, in number thirty and six, only the Squaw-Sachem of Pocasset, 
 who was next unto Philip, in respect of the mischief that hath been done, 
 and the blood that hath been shed in this Warr, escaped alone ; but not long 
 $fter some of Taunton finding an Indian Squaw in Metapoisct newly dead, 
 
NOTES TO CANTO FIFTH. 389 
 
 cut off her head, and it happened to be Weetamoo, i. e. Squaw Sachem her 
 head. When it was set upon a pole in Taunton, the Indians who were 
 prisoners there knew it presently, and made a most horrid and diabolical 
 Lamentation, crying out that it was their Queen's head. Now here it is to 
 be observed, that God himself, by his own hand, brought this enemy to 
 destruction. For in that place where, the last year, she furnished Philip 
 with Canooes for his men, she herself could not meet with a Canoo, but 
 venturing over the River upon a Raft, that brake under her, so that she was 
 drowned just before the English found her. Surely Philip's turn will be 
 next." Increase Mather, p. 45, 46. 
 
 STANZA XXII. 
 
 The belief in a metempsychosis, which Philip is here made to express, is 
 not unwarranted.! " I once took great pains to dissuade from these notions a 
 very sensible Indian. He asserted very strange things of his own super 
 natural knowledge, which he had obtained not only at the time of his initia 
 tion, but at other times, even before he was born. He said he knew he had 
 lived through two generations ; that he had died twice, and was born a third 
 time, to live out the then present race, after which he was to die, and never 
 more to come to this country again. He well remembered what the women 
 had predicted, while he was yet in his mother's womb," &c. &c. Hecke- 
 welder, p. 240. 
 
 " The Indians call this Altar by the Name of Powcorance, from whence 
 proceeds the great Reverence they have for a small Bird that uses the Woods, 
 and in their Note continually sound that Name. They say this is the Soul 
 of one of their Princes ; and on that score they would not hurt it for the 
 World." History of Virginia, p. 185. " The Chepewyans have some faint 
 notion of the transmigration of the soul, so that if a child be born with teeth, 
 they instantly imagine, from its premature appearance, that it bears a resem 
 blance to some person who had lived to an advanced period, and that he has 
 assumed a renovated life, with these extraordinary tokens of maturity." 
 M'Kenzie. History of the Fur Trade, 24. 
 
 " They brought me word that some new married Women were running to 
 receive the Soul of an old Fellow that lay a dying. From thence I concluded 
 that the People were Pythagoreans ; and upon that Apprehension, ask'd 'em 
 how they came to eat Animals, into which their Souls might be transfus'd : 
 But they made answer, that the Transmigration of Souls is always confin'd 
 to the respective Species, so that the Soul of a Man cannot enter into a 
 Fowl, or that of a Fowl cannot be lodged in a quadruped, and so on." La 
 Hontan, 1. 120. 
 
 " D'autres reconnoissent dans tous les Hommes deux Ames ; ils attri- 
 buent a 1'une tout ce que je viens de dire, ils prtendent que 1'autre ne quitte 
 
390 NOTES TO CANTO FIFTH. 
 
 jamais le corps, si ce n'est pour passer dans un autre ; ce qui n'arrive pour- 
 tant gueres, disent-ils, qu'aux Ames des Enfans, lesquels ayant peu joui de 
 la vie, obtiennent d'en recommencer une nouvelle," &c. Charlevoix, p. 351. 
 
 STANZA XXIII. 
 
 No winged sorcerer, &c. 
 
 " The Fish Hawk skims over the lakes and rivers, and sometimes seems 
 to lie expanded on the water, as he hovers so close to it, and having by some 
 attractive power drawn the fish within its reach, darts suddenly upon them. 
 The charm it makes use of is supposed to be an oil contained in a small bag 
 in the body," &c. Carver. 
 
 No charmed bough, &c. 
 
 The Witch Hazel has been supposed to have the property of detecting 
 veins of precious metal. The superstition is improperly introduced in the 
 speech of an Indian. T. C. C. 
 
 To see the foul and senseless beast 
 On generous valour coldly feast. 
 
 " However remarkable it may appear, it is certain that though the venom 
 of the rattle-snake affects, in a greater or less degree, all animated nature, 
 the hog is an exception to the rule, as that animal will readily destroy them, 
 without dreading their poisonous fangs, and fatten on their flesh." Carver. 
 
 STANZA XXVI. Ver. 3. 
 
 Along the mist-clad mountain's brow, &c. 
 
 Carver (page 265) gives a beautifully characteristic account of the conduct 
 of an Indian woman on the successive deaths of her son and husband. The 
 third verse, in the death-song of Philip, is taken from her Lament. " If 
 thou hadst continued with us, my dear son, how well would the bow have 
 become thy hand, and how fatal would thine arrows have proved to the ene 
 mies of our band. Thou wouldst often have drank their blood, and eaten 
 their flesh,* and numerous slaves would have rewarded thy toils. With a 
 nervous arm wouldst thou have seized the wounded buffaloe, or have corn- 
 batted the fury of the enraged bear. Thou wouldst have overtaken the flying 
 elk, and have kept pace on the mountain's brow with the fleetest deer," &c. 
 
 * These Indian metaphors, it is well known, are not to be taken literally. They mean no 
 more than killing their enemies, simply; though several stories are related of the literal 
 execution of their threat, " that they would suck the blood of their enemies." Uncos is said 
 to have eaten a piece of Miantonimo. But tne authority is very questionable. 
 
NOTES TO CANTO FIFTH. 391 
 
 Ver. 4. Say, have I left ye, champions brave ! 
 
 " The bones of our deceased countrymen lie uncovered ; they call out 
 to us to revenge their wrongs, and we must satisfy their request. Their 
 spirits cry out against us. They must be appeased. Sit, therefore, no 
 longer inactive ; give way to the impulse of your natural valour, anoint your 
 hair, paint your faces, fill your quivers ; let the forests resound with your 
 songs ; console the spirits of the dead, and tell them they shall be revenged." 
 Carver, p. 195. 
 
 STANZA XXVII. 
 
 Tiask. Tespiquin. Annawan. 
 
 Tiask, or Tiash, Tespiquin, Totoson, and others, were Philip's chief 
 counsellors. Those mentioned in the text were with him in the swamp. 
 They were all caught and killed soon after. Annawan, or Annawon, was 
 also a chief captain and counsellor, and seems to have been an intelligent 
 and high-minded warrior. He was taken by Captain Church soon after his 
 escape from the swamp where Philip was killed ; and- behaved with great 
 composure and magnanimity after his capture. " He was put to death, as 
 he justly had deserved," says Mr. Hubbard. 
 
NOTES TO CANTO SIXTH. 
 
 Thee, Indians tell, the first of men to win, 
 Clomb long the vaulted heaven's unmeasured height. 
 
 The Iroquois do not go back to the earth for the creation of man. Sir 
 men first appear in their mythology ; one of whom ascended to heaven to 
 seek a woman, named Atahansic. He found her ; and when she was de 
 tected in having received his visit, she was precipitated from the upper 
 regions. She alighted on the back of a tortoise, where she was delivered of 
 twins, one of whom killed the other, &c. Charlevoix, p. 344. 
 
 Thou weeping comesl, the sweet sagamiti to slrow. 
 
 " Chacun se retire ensuite chez soi, mais des Femmes reviennent pendant 
 quelques jours verser au meme endroit de la SagamiteV' Idem, p. 378. 
 Sagamite is a mixture of Indian corn and other ingredients. 
 
 STANZA XVI. 
 
 The account of the ambushment and death of Philip is taken from Cap 
 tain Church. 
 
 " By that time they were got over the ferry, and came near the ground, 
 half the night was spent. The Captain commands a halt, and bringing the 
 company together, he asked Major Sandford's and Captain Golding's advice, 
 what method was best to take in making the onset, but they declined giving 
 him any advice, telling him, That his great experience and success forbid 
 their taking upon them to give advice. Then Captain Church offered Cap 
 tain Golding that he should have the honour (if he would please to accept 
 of it) to beat up Philip's head-quarters. He accepted the offer, and had his 
 alloted number drawn out to him, and the pilot. Captain Church's instruc 
 tions to him were to be very careful in his approach to the enemy, and be 
 sure not to shew himself until by day light they might see and discern their 
 own men from the enemy ; told him also, that his custom in the like cases 
 was, to creep, with his company, on their bellies, until they came as near as 
 they could ; and that as soon as the enemy discovered them they would cry 
 
NOTES TO CANTO SIXTH. 393 
 
 out ; and that was the word for his men to fire and fall on. Directed him, 
 when the enemy should start, and take into the swamp, they should pursue 
 with speed, every man shouting and making what noise they could ; for he 
 would give orders to his ambuscade to fire on any that should come silently. 
 
 " Captain Church knowing that it was Philip's custom to be foremost in 
 the flight, went down to the swamp, and gave Captain Williams of Scituate 
 the command of the right wing of the ambush, and placed an Englishman 
 and an Indian together behind such shelters of trees, &c. that he could find, 
 and took care to place them at such distance that none might pass undis 
 covered between them ; charged them to be careful of themselves, and of 
 hurting their friends, and to fire at any that should come silently thro' the 
 swamp ; but being somewhat further thro' the swamp than he was aware of, 
 he wanted men to make up his ambuscade. Having placed what men he 
 had, he took Major Sandford by the hand, said Sir, I have so placed them that 
 it is scarce possible Philip should escape them. The same moment a shot 
 whistled over their heads, and then the noise of a gun towards Philip's camp. 
 Captain Church thought at first it might be some gun fired by accident ; but 
 before he could speak, a whole volley followed, which was earlier than he 
 expected. One of Philip's gang going forth, looked round him, and Cap 
 tain Golding tho't the Indian looked right at him (though probably it was 
 but- his conceit) so fired at him, and upon his firing, the whole company that 
 were with him fired upon the enemies' shelter before the Indians had time 
 to rise from their sleep, and so overshot them. But their shelter was open 
 on that side next the swamp, built so on purpose for the convenience of 
 flight on occasion. They were soon in the swamp, and Philip the fore 
 most, who starting at the first gun, threw his petunk and powder-horn 
 over his head, catch'd up his gun, and ran as fast as he could scamper, 
 without any more clothes than his small breeches and sinkings, and ran 
 directly on two of Captain Church's ambush ; they let him come fair within 
 shot, and the Englishman's gun missing fire, he bid the Indian fire away, 
 and he did so to purpose, sent one musket bullet through his heart, and an 
 other not above two inches from it ; he fell upon his face in the mud and 
 water, with his gun under him. By this time the enemy perceived they 
 were waylaid on the east side of the swamp, tack'd about short. One of 
 the enemy, who seemed to be a great surly old fellow, halloo'd with a loud 
 voice, and often called out, lootash, lootash. Captain Church called to his 
 Indian Peter, and asked him, who that was that caWd so ? He answered, It 
 was old Annawon, Philip's great Captain, calling on his soldiers to stand to 
 it, and fight stoutly. Now the enemy finding that place of the swamp 
 which was not ambush'd, many of them made their escape in the English 
 tracks. The man that had shot down Philip, ran with all speed to Captain 
 Church, and inform'd him of his exploit, who commanded him to be silent 
 about it, and let no man more know it, until they had drove the swamp 
 clean ; but when they had drove the swamp thro', and found the enemy had 
 
 VOL. I. D D D 
 
394 NOTES TO CANTO SIXTH. 
 
 escaped, or at least the most of them, and the sun now up, and so the dew 
 gone, that they couJd not easily track them, the whole company met to 
 gether at the place where the enemies' night shelter was ; and then Captain 
 Church gave them the news of Philip's death ; upon which the whole army 
 gave three loud huzzas. Captain Church ordered his body to be pulled out 
 of the mire on to the upland, so some of Captain Church? s Indians took hold 
 of him by his stockings, and some by his small breeches (being otherwise 
 naked), and drew him thro' the mud to the upland, and a doleful, great, najted, 
 dirty beast he looked like. Captain Church then said, That forasmuch as he 
 had caused many an Englishman's body to be unburied, and to rot above 
 ground^ that not one of his bones should be buried. And calling his old 
 Indian executioner, bid him behead and quarter him ; accordingly he came 
 with his hatchet and stood over him, but before he struck he made a small 
 speech, directing it to Philip ; and then went to work, and did as he was 
 ordered. Philip having one very remarkable hand, being much scarred, 
 occasioned by the splitting of a pistol in it formerly ; Captain Church gave 
 the head and that hand to Alderman, the Indian who shot him, to show such 
 Gentlemen as would bestow gratuities upon him ; and accordingly he got 
 many a penny by it. This was in the latter end of August, 1676." 
 Church's History, p. 70, 71, 72, 73. 
 
 The death of Philip draws from Captain Church no other comment, than 
 that his company got but four shillings and sixpence a piece for their trouble. 
 They shot but few Indians, and Philip's head went with the rest, at thirty 
 shillings each. 
 
 There is a comical history of the Discovery of America and the Wars 
 with the Indians, written by one H. Trumbull, which seems to have gone 
 through several editions. He states that Philip was lying in a swamp, near 
 Mount Hope, with ninety Seaconet Indians, and was shot by a Mohegan, on 
 the twenty-seventh of October, 1679. Also, that Oneco, son of Uncas, 
 broiled and ate a pound of Philip's flesh. Now the Seaconet s were with 
 Captain Church ; Philip was shot by a Pocasset Indian ; and that event took 
 place on the twelfth of August, 1676. All the authorities agree in this point ; 
 and the story of Oneco and the pound of flesh is an embellishment, drawn 
 entirely from the sanguinary imagination of this blundering chronicler. 
 The rest of his history, at least as far as I am acquainted with the facts it 
 professes to record, is equally, and as surprisingly, inaccurate. 
 
 STANZA XVII. 
 
 But as the elks in northern wood, &c. 
 
 The mode of hunting the elk, by driving him into the water, where other 
 hunters are disposed in a semicircle of canoes, is described by Charlevoix, 
 p, 7, 126. 
 
NOTES TO CANTO SIXTH. 395 
 
 STANZA XXIV. 
 
 As amber gum to feverish vein. 
 
 The balm of the sweet gum-tree, or liquid amber, is reckoned by the 
 Indians to be an excellent febrifuge. Carver, 335. 
 
 It will be seen from the extract from Church, in what respect we have 
 deviated from history. It is unnecessary to add any thing more to these 
 notes ; except that Philip's quarters were hung up, " and his head (in the 
 words of Mather) carried in Triumph to Plymouth, where it arrived on the 
 very day that the Church there was keeping a solemn Thanksgiving to God. 
 God sent 'em in the Head of a Leviathan for a Thanksgiving Feast. 
 
 TWC irac o*<5xo/TO, ong TOiavrdyt pl^oi. 
 
 Sic pereat quisquis captarit talia posthac !" 
 
 END OF VOL. I. 
 

 
 
 
 


Call Number 
 
 Sands, E.G. 
 
 Writings of Robert C 
 Sands . 
 
 254547