π(1)r

Traits
of the
Aborigines
of
America.


A Poem.


Cambridge:
From the University Press
Hillard and Metcalf Printers.
Sold by Cummings & Hillard, No. 1 Cornhill, Boston.
18221822.

π(1)v

District of Massachusetts, to Wit.

Be it remembered, that on the 1822-07-17seventeenth day of July A. D. 1822, and
in the forty-seventh year of the independence of the United States of
America
, Cummings & Hillard of the said district have deposited in this
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words following, to wit:
Traits of the Aborigines of America. A Poem.

In conformity to the act of the Congress of the United States, entitled
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1(1)r

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1(1)v 1(2)r

Canto First.

O’er the vast regions of that Western world,

Whose lofty mountains hiding in the clouds

Conceal’d their grandeur and their wealth so long

From European eyes, the Indian rov’d,

Free and unconquered. From those frigid plains

Struck with the torpor of the Arctic pole,

To where Magellan lifts his torch Note 1.— Line 7. “To where Magellan lifts his torch to lightThe meeting of the waters” The island of Terra del Fuego, having received its name of Land of
Fire,
from the number of volcanoes which diversify its desolate region,
may well be represented under the metaphor of Torch-bearer to the
Oceans, as they rush to mingle their waves.
to light

The meeting of the waters;—from the shore

Whose smooth green line the broad Atlantic laves,

To the rude borders of that rocky strait

Where haughty Asia seems to stand and gaze

On the New Continent, the Indian reign’d

Majestic and alone. Fearless he rose,

Firm as hismountains, like his rivers, wild,

1(2)v 4

Bold as those lakes, whose wondrous chain controuls

His northern coast. The forest and the wave

Gave him his food; the slight-constructed hut

Furnish’d his shelter, and its doors spread wide

To every wandering stranger. There his cup,

His simple meal, his lowly couch of skins

Were hospitably shared. Rude were his toils,

And rash his daring, when he headlong rush’d

Down the steep precipice to seize his prey;

Strong was his arm to bend the stubborn bow,

And keen his arrow. This the Bison knew,

The spotted Panther, the rough, shaggy Bear,

The Wolf dark-prowling, the eye-piercing Lynx,

The wild Deer bounding through the shadowy glade,

And the swift Eagle, soaring high to make

His nest among the stars. Cloth’d in their spoils

He Dar’d the elements; with eye sedate

Breasted the wintry winds; o’er the white heads

Of angry torrents steered his rapid bark

Light as their foam, mounted with tireless speed

Those slippery cliffs, where everlasting snows

Weave their dense robes, or laid him down to sleep

Where the dread thunder of the cataract lull’d

His drowsy sense. The dangerous toils of war

1(3)r 5

He sought and lov’d. Traditions, and proud tales

Of other days, exploits of chieftains bold,

Dauntless and terrible, the warrior’s song,

The victor’s triumph,—all conspired to raise

The martial spirit, kindling in his breast

With life’s first throb. Oft the rude, wandering tribes

Rush’d on to battle. Their aspiring chiefs

Lofty and iron-fram’d, with native hue

Strangely disguised in wild and glaring tints,

Frown’d like some Pictish king. The conflict rag’d

Fearless and fierce, ’mid shouts and disarray,

As the swift lightning urges its dire shafts

Through clouds and darkness, when the warring blasts

Awaken midnight. O’er the captive foe

Unsated vengeance storm’d. Flame and slow wounds

Rack’d the strong bonds of life; but the firm soul

Smil’d in its fortitude to mock the rage

Of its tormentors; when the crisping nerves

Were broken, still exulting o’er its pain

To rise unmurmuring to its father’s shades,

Where in delightful bowers the brave and just

Rest and rejoice.

Thus stood stern Regulus,

When furious Carthage urg’d her torturing darts,

1* 1(3)v 6

Transfix’d with dark, demoniac rage to find

Her quiver all exhausted, and that soul

Proudly unhurt.

Yet those untutor’d tribes,

Bound with their stern resolves and savage deeds

Some gentle virtues; as beneath the gloom

Of overshadowing forests, sweetly springs

The unexpected flower. Oft to their homes

The captive youth they led, into his wounds

Pouring the oil of kindness, and with love

Alluring him to fill the vacant place

Of brother, or of son, untimely slain

In the dread of battle. Note 2.— Line 73. “Of brother, or of son, untimely slainIn the dread battle.” The custom which prevails among the aboriginal Americans, of adopting
a captive foe in the place of some near relative, who has fallen in
battle, is well known. The affection thus transferred, is said to be sincere
and ardent, and extinguished only with life. They have been styled
the most revengeful, the most implacable of savage nations. Yet this
practice, peculiar to themselves, seems rather to prove, that the habits
arising from natural affection are stronger than the suggestions of revenge.
Among civilized nations, in every age, the adoption of children has prevailed;
but it has been circumscribed either by the limits of affinity, the
predilection of friendship, or the excitment of compassion. When was
it known to be extended to mortal foes, even by Christians, who are
bound to requite enmity with love? Where, among the followers of 16(2)v 184
Him, with whose death-pang was mingled a prayer for his murderers, has
the shelter of paternal kindness been the portion of the enemy, whose
sword had drank the blood of the lost son? or the offices of fraternal
brother? Among the ancient Egyptians, Assyrians, and Grecians,
adoption by those who were childless, was a frequent usage. The Romans
enacted laws for its regulation. The Lacedemonians required that
it should be performed in the presence of their kings. The Turk, according
to the appointed ceremonies of Mahomet, invests the adopted with his
inner garment, or with his girdle; and the Gentoo offers sacrifices to his
gods. But the native American being in this respect “without law, is a
law unto himself;”
he adopts the foe who would have shed his blood,
without the pomp of prescribed ceremony, and with no sacrifice but that
which affection exacts of vengeance. In other instances, we behold this
race capable of degrees of virtue, as unexpected as they are unparalleled.
The natives of Hascala, a populous province, bordering upon Mexico, shocked
at the cruelties which marked the intrusion of the Spaniards, attacked
them with impetuous bravery and with vast superiority of numbers. But the
advantages arising from these circumstances, were entirely lost through their
solicitude to save the wounded and dying. To relieve the sufferers, and remove
them from further barbarity, divided the attention of the warrior even
in the heat of battle; and a scene unknown among civilized nations was displayed,
a sentiment of tenderness extinguishing victory. Afterwards, the
Hascalans, meditating another attack, generously apprized the invaders
of their hostile intentions, and knowing that a scarcity of provisions exsisted
among them, sent to their camp a large supply of poultry and maize;
“Eat plentifully,” said they, “for we scorn to attack enemies enfeebled
by hunger, and should blush to offer to our gods, famished and emaciated
victims.”
Yet these sons of nature had never heard the command, “If
thine enemy hunger, feed him; if he thirst, give him drink.”
Their uncultur’d hearts

Gave a strong soil for Friendship, that bold growth

Of generous affection, changeless, pure,

Self-sacrificing, counting losses light,

And yielding life with gladness. By its side

Like sister-plant, sprung ardent Gratitude,

Vivid, perennial, braving winter’s frost

And summer’s heat; while nurs’d by the same dews

Unbounded Reverence for the form of Age,

Struck its deep root spontaneous, and display’d

Its fair, decumbent petals. The dim eye,

The furrow’d brow, the temples thinly clad,

1(4)r 7

The wasted page of man’s infirm decline

Awake that deep respect, not always trac’d

’Mid those whom Science nurtures, whom the arts

Of smooth refinement polish, and a voice

Sublime instructs, “Honour the head that bears

The hoary crown of Age.”

With pious awe

Their eye uplifted sought the hidden path

Of the Great Spirit. The loud midnight storm,

The rush of mighty waters, the deep roll

Of thunder, gave his voice; the golden sun,

The soft effulgence of the purple morn,

The gentle rain distilling, was his smile

Dispensing good to all. The Spirit of Ill,

Base foe to man, they dreaded; and the cry

Of his vile legions shrieking on the blast,

Shuddering they heard. In various forms arose

Their superstitious homage. Some Note 3.— Line 101. “Some with bloodOf human sacrifices, sought to appease” &c. Although the Mexicans were further advanced in refinement than any
of the aborigines of America, they were the slaves of a superstition which
was marked by the most barbarous sacrifices. At their first arrival near 16(3)r 185
the Lake of Tetzuco, from their ancient possessions, on the borders of the
Californian Gulf, they erected on the spot which they had selected for
their principal city, a temple to their tutelar god, which they consecrated
by the effusion of human blood. This event, according to their traditions,
and the simple annals preserved by their hieroglyphical paintings, occurred
in the year 13351335 of the Christian era. Following then through the variations
of their government, from its original form of aristocracy, to that
of elective monarchy, and ultimate despotism, combined with the feudal
spirit, we see the same stern religion preserving its sway unaltered, and
mingling with their civil institutions. Their political festivals were extended
with the sacrifice of human beings, and in their expiatory offerings
to their deities, they believed that “without shedding of blood was no remission.”
During the reigns of Tizoc, and his brother Ahuitzotl, a
temple was erected, which surpassed in magnificence all the structures of
Mexico, and at its completion in 14861486, it was consecrated with the blood
of more than 60,000 prisoners. Montezuma II, who was the ninth
Mexican sovereign, entered into a war with some neighbouring tribes, in
order to obtain victims for sacrifice at his coronation, and the cruel pageantry
of that scene was in accordance with the inclinations of his subjects.
The funeral rites of the Mexicans were sanguinary, particularly
at the death of any distinguished personage. At the decease of an emperor,
they slew a number of his principal attendants, and buried them in
the same tomb; supposing, like the ancient Scythians, that he would
have need of their assistance and counsel. The rites of their religion
were reduced to a regular system; but their divinities were clothed in
vengeance, and their priests perpetuated a worship of gloom and terrour.
with blood

Of human sacrifices sought to appease

That anger, which in pestilence, or dearth,

Or famine stalk’d; and their astonish’d vales

Like Carthaginian altars, frequent drank

The horrible libation. Some, Note 4.— Line 106. “Some with fruitsSweet flowers, and incense of their choicest herbsSought to propitiate Him” &c. The mild Peruvians who, at the time of the invasion of the Spaniards,
had made many attainments in the arts of civilization, had a form of religion
whose features were remarkably free from harshness and barbarity.
“The most singular and striking circumstance in their government,”
says Dr. Robertson , “was the influence of religion upon its genius and
laws. The whole system of their civil policy was founded upon religion. 16* 16(3)v 186
The Inca appeared not only as a legislator, but a messenger from
Heaven. The superstitions on which he engrafted his pretensions to
high authority, were of a different character from those established
among the Mexicans. By directing their veneration to that glorious luminary
which by its universal and vivifying energy is the best emblem of
divine beneficence, the rites and observances which they deemed acceptable
to Him were innocent and humane. They offered to the Sun a part
of the production which his genial warmth had called forth from the
bosom of the earth, and fostered to maturity. They sacrificed, as an
oblation of gratitude, some of the animals who were indebted to his influence
for nourishment. They presented to him choice specimens of those
works of ingenuity, which his light had guided the hand of man in forming,
but the Incas never stained his altars with human blood, nor conceived
that their beneficent father, the Sun, would be delighted with such
victims. Accordingly, the Peruvians, unacquainted with those barbarous
rites, which extinguish sensibility, and suppress the feelings of nature at
human sufferings, were formed by the spirit of the superstition they had
adopted, to a national character more gentle than that of any people in
America.”
The tribe of Chacmeheca’s who succeeded the ancient Toltecan
monarchy, which was situated in the neighbourhood of Mexico, also
paid homage to the Sun, as their tutelar divinity, and offered to him the
herbs and flowers which they found springing in the field. The Parent
of warmth and vegetation appeared to their untaught minds, as the Fountain
of existence and of hope; and how much more elevated was the
choice of their Paganism, than that of the polished Egyptians, who, in
their absurd worship of vegetables, noxious reptiles, and the lifeless formations
of Nature, clearly evinced, that the “world by wisdom knew not
God.”
with fruits,

Sweet flowers, and incense of their choicest herbs

1(4)v 8

Sought to propitiate Him, whose powerful hand

Unseen, sustain’d them. Some Note 5.— Line 109. “Some, with mystic rites,The ark, the orison, the paschal feast,” &c. Such a marked diversity of customs, and religious rites, is found
among the aborigines of America, that they must be considered as the
mingled offspring of different nations, who in various ages have become
inhabitants of this western hemisphere. The Peruvians, in their ancient
offerings, like a sect of the Persians, recognized the Sun as the Parent of 16(4)r 187
their joys, and the supreme object of their adoration. Some of the eastern
tribes of South America preserve a tradition that their ancestors migrated
from the African continent. The Toltecas, originally bordering upon
Mexico, and celebrated for their superiour knowledge, which comprised
some branches of agriculture, together with the art of cutting gems, and
casting gold and silver into various forms, possessed some ancient paintings,
which represented the passage of their ancestors through Asia, and
the north-western countries of America. The Mexicans who, in the
barbarity of their religious sacrifices, point to the blood-stained altars of
Carthage, in the style of their architecture, the construction of pyramidal
edifices, the use of hieroglyphicks, and the mode of computing time, lead
us back to the institutions of ancient Egypt. This similarity has so forcibly
impressed the minds of some learned writers, particularly Siguenza,
and Bishop Huet, that they have designated the Mexicans as the descendants
of Naphtahim, the son of Mizraim, and nephew of Ham. The Esquimaux
recognizes his sires in the north of Europe, and by a variety of
customs proves his affinity. The Mohawks, from the peculiarity of their
language, composed entirely without labials, so that they never close their
lips in speaking, and from the superiority which they assumed over the
surrounding tribes, seem also to claim a distinct origin. The Abbe Clavigero
supposes that the ancestors of those nations who peopled the country
of Anahuac, passed from the northeastern parts of Asia to the western
extremity of America. Amid the variety of customs which distinguish
the different tribes, some have been observed so similar to those of ancient
Israel, that they have given rise to conjecture, that some of the ten tribes,
who, after the Assyrian invasion in 0720721, (B.C.) were long in a wandering
state, might have been allured to pass, with other emigrants, the narrow strait
which separates the Old from the New World. This opinion received
strength from the circumstance, that among some of the natives, the name
of their Supreme Being was Tchewah, evidently resembling the Hebrew
Jehovah, that the word “Hallelujah”, occurred in their songs of
praise, that they bear upon their shoulders to battle a consecrated Ark,
which is never suffered to touch the earth, and the mysteries of whose interior
they guard with the most jealous care. Traditions of the murder
in Eden, of original longevity, the general deluge, the saving of the
righteous pair, the bird sent from the ark, who returned with a verdant 16(4)v 188
branch, the confusion of tongues, the anger of the Great Spirit at the
building of a high place, which the pride of man contemplated should
reach the heavens, and many more, evidently derived from the Scriptures,
are preserved among them. Some of the early settlers, who had an opportunity
of observing their character before its debasement, traced in their
religious offerings and festivals a similarity to the Jewish ritual. Intelligent
men, who have resided among them as traders, or surveyed them as
travellers and missionaries, have occasionally gathered traits of resemblance
to the peculiar people; and some learned men have been inclined to credit
this hypothesis, by a comparison of their language with the ancient Hebrew.
“Dr. Buchanan,” says a judicious writer, “supposes the ten
tribes of Israel, to be now in the country of their first captivity; but this
by no means precludes the possibility of individuals having migrated northward
and eastward to the American continent. he speaks of the white
and the black Jews of Asia: we know that there are also white Jews in
Europe, and black Jews in Africa; and why, since they are scattered,
the distinguished people, may there not be red Jews in America?”
with mystic rites,

The ark, the orison, the paschal feast,

Through glimmering tradition seem’d to bear,

As in some broken vase, the smother’d coals,

Scatter’d from Jewish altars.

Let the heart,

That deems such semblance but the baseless dream

Of blind credulity, survey the trace

Of similarity, bid Truth’s clear light

Beam o’er the misty annal, note the facts,

Compare the language, weigh the evidence,

And answer for itself.

The chrystal tube

Of calm inquiry, to thy patient eye,

Meek Boudinot! reveal’d an unknown star Note 6.— Line 121. “The crystal tubeOf calm inquiry, to thy patient eye,Meek Boudinot! reveal’d an unknown starUpon this western cloud.” This refers to the Star in the West, a work which attempts to
prove the descent of some of our aborigines, from the dispersed Israelites;
written by the late Hon. Judge Boudinot, the venerable Sire and Patron
of the American Bible Society. He asserts, that if the descendants of
exiled Israel could now be identified, on any spot of the globe, we should
not find, after the revolution of twenty-five centuries, the traces of similarity
more striking; and that, admitting the affinity of our roving tribes with
the peculiar people, it would be impossible not to be surprised at perceiving
so many rites and traditions unimpaired, when to the lapse of ages is
added the absence of a written language, of a temple, of a regular government,
even of a permanent abode, and the vice, degradation, and misery,
which, since their subjugation by the Europeans, has involved them in a
darkness like midnight. He is strengthened in his theory by a passage
from the Apocrypha, where Esdras “in his vision beheld the ten tribes 16(5)r 189
who were carried captive by Shalmanezer, in the time of Hosea their king,
taking counsel to leave the multitude, and go into a country where mankind
never dwelt, that they might keep the statues which they never
kept in their own land, and remain there until the latter times.”
INTERNAL ERROR. Please report to wwp@neu.edu that regMe is unmatched.2 Esdras,
xiii, 40.
The Rev. Dr. Jarvis, in his interesting Discourse on the Religion
of the Indian Tribes
, supposes them to be the descendants of Noah, who
migrated to this continent, after the great dispersion of mankind. This
theory, which accounts for many of the traditions preserved among them,
is also adopted by Mr. Faber, so well known by his learned dissertations
on the Prophecies.

Upon this western cloud. Its trembling beam

Guided thy soul to Zion’s sacred hill

And ancient temple; as that wondrous ray

Streaming o’er eastern summits, led the feet

Of the astonish’d Magi, to the cell

Of their Messiah. Costly gifts they bore,

Frankincense, myrrh, and gold; but thou didst yield

The better offering of a contrite prayer,

1(5)r 9

That God would gather from the utmost bound,

The children of his Friend, of the cold North

And glowing South, his fugitives require;

From Gush and Elam, from the sea-green isles,

And from the western regions, bring again

His banish’d; bid the fearful desert bloom

And sing before them, while their blinded hearts

Illumin’d, catch the knowledge and the love

Of Jesus Christ. Yet thou hast risen where pray’r

Is lost in praise; as yields the thrilling harp

Its symphony, when the high organ swells

In solemn diapason. Thou hast left

Mourning on earth, ’mid those who feel the ills

Of Penury, who venerate the deeds

Of boundless Generosity, or love

The pure in heart.

――But whither art thou fled,

Adventurous strain? Resume thy opening theme.

Paint the bold Indian ranging o’er his vales,

Unaw’d, and unsubdued.

Though his stern heart

Seem’d cold and fixed as adamant, its cell

Conceal’d the warm fount of parental love,

And felt its thrilling tide. The lofty chiefs,

1(5)v 10

Inur’d by frowning hardship to despise

The lineaments of joy, found o’er their souls

Strange softness stealing, as they mutely gaz’d

Upon the smile of infancy, or saw,

Waking from its sweet dream, the joyous babe

Reach forth its little hands. The warrior bold,

Who vanquish’d toil and famine, bore unmov’d

The battle-shock, or with calm, changelss brow

Endur’d the keenest tortures, writh’d in pangs

Over his children lost; while bitter drops

Wrung forth by anguish stain’d his furrow’d cheeks.

In that dire struggle when relentless Grief

Confronts strong Nature, the heart cherish’d nerve

Broken and bleeding, rent the stubborn breast,

As uptorn roots dislodge the iron oak

Which tempests could not bend. A prey to grief

Seem’d the sad mothers. The first-rising storm

Of sorrow, passionate and wild, burst forth,

And in that deadly calm which Reason dreads

Shuddering, their weak, exhausted hands they prest

On their wan Note 7.— Line 172. “Their weak, exhausted hands they prestOn their wan lips, and in the lowly dustLaid them despairing.” Missionaries and traders have occasionally observed among the different
tribes, the custom of pressing the hand upon the lips, and laying the
mouth in the dust, in cases of deep bereavement. Some have supposed
it the dictate of Nature in the humiliation of suffering. Others have
traced in it a resemblance to the expression of grief in ancient Israel; and
have been reminded of the passages in Job, Solomon, and Jeremiah:
“Mark me, and be astonished, and lay your hand on your mouth.”
“Behold, I am vile! what shall I answer thee? I will lay my hand
upon my mouth.”
“If thou hast done foolishly, in lifting up thyself, or
if thou hast thought evil, lay thy hand upon thy mouth.”
“He putteth
his mouth in the dust, if so be, there may be hope.”
lips, and in the lowly dust

Laid them despairing.

――O’er the dreaded grave

Mist and thick darkness brooded; trembling Hope

1(6)r 11

Vision’d futurity, but Fancy wrought

Incessant, peopling it with airy shapes

Fantastic as her own.

Now the fair clime

Was bright with verdure, lofty forests wav’d

In the pure breeze, gay deer with branching horns

Allur’d the hunter, through clear, sparkling streams

Glided the scaly tribes, and thronging seals

Innumerous, sporting ’mid the emerald isles

Fled not the barbed lance. The Arctic sky

Kindling at evening with resplendent hues

Crimson and gold, in changeful wreaths combin’d,

To the poor Greenlander reveal’d the dance

Of happy spirits, Note 8.— Line 186. “To the poor Greenlander reveal’d the danceOf happy spirits.” The imagination of the inhabitants of Greenland traces in the Aurora
Borealis
, the dance of sportive souls. They suppose the place of torment
for the wicked to be in the subterranean regions, where darkness and terrour
reign, without hope. They believe in two Great Spirits, the good
and the evil, and in various subordinate grades of ethereal beings, resembling
the major and minor gods of the ancient heathens. When a friend
is in the conflict of death, they array him in his best apparel, and when 16(5)v 190
the last change has marked his countenance, bewail his loss, and prepare
for his interment. They deposit in his grave instruments of labour, and
darts for defence, and returning to the house of mourning, the men sit
silent with uncovered faces, while the females prostrate themselves on the
earth. The nearest relative pronounces an eulogy on the virtues of the
departed, and at every pause their grief becomes more audible. The
ceremonies of mourning are continued at intervals for months, and sometimes
for a year; though its bitterness diminishes after the period which
they allot for the perilous journey to the eternal regions. They believe
that the spirits of the departed are occasionally permitted to revisit the
earth, and reveal themselves to the former objects of their attachment.
Some of the first missionaries who visited this people, supposed that the
idea of a Divine Being was in some degree familiar to their minds, since
they so readily received the knowledge of his attributes, and the most
stupid among them were struck with horror at the thought of the annihilation
of the soul.
who in fields of bliss

Weave their light measures. But anon, pale Fear

With trembling pencil trac’d a gulph of woe

Throng’d with unearthly shapes, whose dizzy bridge

Tottering, and guarded by a monster fierce,

How few could pass! The first sad days of grief,

Were dark and dreadful. The tear-blinded eye

Pursues the wanderer, as he seems to urge

His toilsome journey. His adventurous foot,

Uncertain, slides upon that slippery bridge

Which like a tremulous and shrivell’d thread

1(6)v 12

Shoots the abyss of flame. Falling he rolls

Upon the fiery flood, struggling to gain

The far, dim coast, where angry dragons wait

With jaws distain’d and scaly strength to attack

The weary traveller, ere he reach the abode

Of happy spirits. Hence the mourners place

By their lamented friend, his trusty bow,

Arrows and food, and closely wrapt in skins

They leave him standing in his narrow cell

Prepar’d for combat.

Thus the warlike Earl

Stern Seward, Note 9.— Line 208. “Thus, the warlike EarlStern Seward, in his armour brac’d, erect,Met grisly Death.” Seward, Earl of Northumberland, feeling in his last sickness, that dissolution
approached, quitted his bed, and encircled himself with his armour.
To the inquiries of his attendants, he answered, “It becometh not a
brave man to die like a beast.”
Standing, and with an undaunted countenance,
he met death, closing his life of intrepidity, by an act equally
singular and heroic.
in his armour brac’d, erect,

Met grisly Death, his last competitor,

But his first conqueror. Some, half reclin’d

Sit in their mouldering graves, prepar’d to hold

Converse with Death’s dark angels, when they come

Sweeping on sable pinions through the gloom,

Strong and terrific. Others, tow’rd Note 10.— Line 214. “Others toward the EastWith faces turn’d, repose.” The natives of Patagonia bury their dead on the eastern shores, and
with their faces turned toward the rising Sun, where they say was the
country of their ancestors. Bougainville, and others, have suggested
their resemblance to the roving Tartars. Like them they traverse immense
plains, constantly on horseback, clothing themselves with the skins
of wild beasts, which they destroy in the chase, and occasionally pillaging
travellers, who cross their path, or interrupt their career.
the east

With faces turn’d, repose; that when the morn

Expected, breaks their slumber, its first ray

May guide them to that country where their sites

Dwelt in past ages.

――O’er the lonely tomb

Affection linger’d watchful. Weed nor thorn Note 11.— Line 219. “Weed nor thorn,Might choke the young turf springing.” Among some of our aborigines, the graves of departed friends are
guarded with the most delicate and jealous affection. They suffer no
weeds to take root upon them, and frequently visit them with lamentations.
This tender and sacred sentiment is expressed in an effusion of
simple eloquence, which bears the antiquity of nearly 200 years. In one
of the earliest records of the settlement of Massachusetts, it is mentioned
that the Indian monuments of the dead had been defaced by the whites at
Passonagessit, and the grave of the Sachem’s Mother plundered of some
skins that had decorated it. Gathering together his people, in the first
moments of his grief and indignation, he thus addressed them: “When
last the glorious light of this sky was underneath the globe, when the
birds grew silent, I began to settle, as my custom is, to take my repose.
But ere my eyes were fast closed, I saw a vision at which my soul was
troubled. As I trembled at the fearful sight, a spirit uttered its voice:—
‘Behold! my Son, whom I have cherished. See the hands that covered,
and fed thee oft. Wilt thou forget to take revenge of those wild people,
who have disturbed my ashes, disdaining our sacred customs? See now!
the Sachem’s grave lies, like one of the common people’s, defiled by an
ignoble race. Thy Mother doth complain. She implores thine aid
against this thievish people, newly intruding themselves into our land. If
this be suffered, can I rest quietly in my everlasting habitations?’
Then
the Spirit vanished, and I, trembling, and scarce able to speak, began to
get some strength, and recollect my thoughts that had fled, determining
to ask your counsel and assistance.”

2(1)r 13

Might choke the young turf spring, nor the hand

Of wantonness deface it. The keen eye

Of Valour, glancing o’er this sacred trust,

Turn’d like the sword which barr’d the step of guilt

From silent Eden. Thus the Scythian tribes, Note 12.— Line 224. “Thus the Scythian tribesWandering without a City, call’d to guardNor dome, nor temple, took their dauntless standUpon their fathers’ sepulchres,” &c. Rollin, in his interesting history of the expedition of Darius against
the Sycthians, relates the embarrassment which he suffered in being unable
to bring that roving people to a regular engagement. “Prince of the
Scythians,”
said he, “why do you continually fly before me?” “If I fly 16(6)v192
before thee, Prince of Persia,”
he replied, “it is not because I fear thee.
We, Scythians, have neither cities or lands to defend, yet come! attack
the tombs of our fathers, and thou shalt find what manner of men we are.”

Soon after, they exemplified another singular trait of character, by sending
a herald to Darius, with a present of a bird, a mouse, a frog, and five
arrows. The monarch exclaimed with joy, “Now they acknowledge
subjection, and by these emblems yield to me the dominion of their lands
and waters, of their warriors, and even of the atmosphere they breathe.”

But Gobryas, one of his officers, who was better versed in the hieroglyphics
of Scythia, correctly interpreted this typical message:—“Unless
the Persians can ascend into the air like birds, conceal themselves in earth
like mice, or beneath the waters like frogs, it is not possible for them to
escape the Scythain arrows.”

Wandering without a city, call’d to guard

Nor dome, nor temple, took their dauntless stand

Upon their fathers’ sepulchres, and taught

The boastful Persian, that the kindling flame

Caught from their ashes, like the lightning’s wrath

Could blast his legions. Thus the natives dwelt,

Fearless, nor asking aught save what their realm

Amply supplied. They had not learnt to change

Heaven’s gifts to poisons, nor the aliment

That cheers the body, to th’ imprisoning bend

Of th’ ethereal mind. No baleful arts

Of chymistry transform’d the staff of life

To Riot’s weapon, and the tottering props

Of Death’s dark throne. They knew not then to mark

With sparkling eye the transmigration foul

Of Earth’s blest harvest melted in the bowl

Inebriate. Nor had the fatal charm

Of Luxury seduced them to subject

Spirit to sense, binding the lofty soul

2 2(1)v 14

A vassal at the revel and the feast,

Like purple Dives. Temperance was theirs;

Theirs the elastic, the unruffled flow

Of spirits and of blood, the nerve firm-brac’d,

The vigorous mind, th’ undreaded day of toil,

And the pure dream. Say, can the eye that mark’d

Their simple majesty, and their bold hearts

Free and unfettered, as the wind that swept

Their cloud-capt mountains, bear to turn and trace

The dark reverse?

First, to their northern coast

Wander’d the Scandinavians, urging on

O’er the cold billows their storm-driven boats,

And pleas’d to rest, and rear their clay-built cells

Where seem’d a trace of verdure. Ericke Note 13.— Line 257. “Ericke steer’dFrom that lone isle which Nature’s poising handCast ’tween the Continents.” It is generally admitted that the northern parts of America were settled
by the Scandinavians, several countries before the expedition of Columbus.
Ericke Raude, so named on account of his red hair, is considered as the
original discoverer of those inhospitable regions. Having past a winter
on the coast of Greenland, he returned to Iceland, and persuaded many
of his countrymen to accompany him, and undertake the establishment of
a colony. He assured them that the country which he had found, abounded
in fish, and exhibited such a verdant appearance, that he had assigned
it the name of Groenland, or Greenland. Twenty-five ships, filled with
Icelanders and Norwegians, attended him in consequence of these representations;
but it is said that only fourteen sustained the inclemencies of
the voyage. The establishment of this colony bears date, according to
Torfæus, in his Groenlandia Antiqua, in the year 0982982; yet it would
seem to have been of earlier origin, by the bull of Pope Gregory 4th,
issued in 0835835, and committing the conversion of the Greenlanders and
Icelanders, to the first northern apostle, Ansgarius. This colony assumed
the appearance of prosperity, and in 12611261, voluntarily submitted
to the sceptre of Norway, and was governed by a Norwegian viceroy,
according to the laws of Iceland. It was considerably harassed by the 17(1)r 193
natives, who were denominated Skrællings, and whose origin is traced
to the North East regions of Tartary. Driven from their country by
imperious and potent enemies, they crossed the straits of Bherring, and
gradually passing to the east and north, began their hostilities against the
Icelandic colony in the 1001 < x < 1100eleventh century. They gained great ascendancy
over it about the year 13501350, when it had been enfeebled by the ravages
of pestilence; and in the course of two or three centuries nearly exterminated
it. The small remnant of European settlers were driven from
the western toward the eastern shores, and compelled to incorporate themselves
with their conquerors. Some of them, however, retreated to the
inlets between the mountains, and like the Welch still preserve the character
of an unconquered people.
steer’d

From that lone isle which Nature’s poising hand

Cast ’tween the continents. There Winter frames

The boldest architecture, rears strong tow’rs

Of rugged frost-work, and deep-labouring throws

A glassy pavement o’er rude tossing floods.

Long near this coast he lingered, half-illum’d

By the red gleaming of those fitful flames

Which wrathful Hecla through her veil of snows

Darts on the ebon night. Oft he recall’d

2(2)r 15

Pensive, his simple home, ere the New World

Enwrapt in polar robes, with frigid eye

Receiv’d him, and in rude winds hoarsely hail’d

Her earliest guest. Thus the stern king of storms,

Swart Eolus, bade his imprison’d blasts

Breathe dissonant welcome to the restless queen,

Consort of Jove, whose unaccustom’d step

Invaded his retreat. The pilgrim band

Amaz’d beheld those mountain ramparts float

Around their coast, where hoary Time had toil’d

Ev’n from his infancy, to point sublime

Their pyramids, and strike their awful base

Deep ’neath the main. Say, Darwin! Note 14.— Line 279. “Say, Darwin! Fancy’s son” Dr. Darwin’s plan of navigating southward those tremendous masses
of ice, which for ages have been accumulating amid the polar regions, in
order to allay the fervour of the tropics, is one of the many visionary theories
of that splendid poet and eccentric philosopher.
Fancy’s son!

What armour shall he choose who dares complete

Thine embassy to the dire kings who frown

Upon those thrones of frost?—What force compel

Their abdication of their favour’d realm

And rightful royalty?—What pilot’s eye

Unglaz’d by Death, direct their devious course

(Tremendous navigation!) to allay

The fervour of the tropics? Proudly gleam

Their sparkling masses, shaming the brief dome

Which Russia’s empress-queen Note 15.— Line 289. “Shaming the brief domeWhich Russia’s empress-queen bade the chill boorQuench life’s frail lamp to rear.” The Ice Palace, erected in the year 17401740, by the Empress Anne, of
Russia, was 52 feet in length, and when lighted exhibited the most splendid
appearance. Yet to a reflecting mind, its brilliance must have been
dimmed by the recollection, that many lives were sacrificed to its construction,
by the severity of cold. The description of this singularly beautiful
structure, by the poet Cowper, is in accordance with that purity and elegant
simpicity, which characterizes his numbers. “Silently, as a dream the fabric rose; No sound of hammer, or of saw was there. Ice upon ice, the well-adjusted parts Were soon conjoin’d; nor other cement ask’d Than water interfus’d, to make them one. Lamps gracefully dispos’d, and of all hues Illumin’d every side; a watery light 17 17(1)v 194 Gleam’d through the clear transparency, that seem’d Another moon new ris’n, or meteor fall’n From heaven to earth, of lambent flame serene, So stood the brittle prodigy, though smooth And slippery the materials, yet frost-bound, Firm as a rock. Nor wanted aught within That royal residence might well befit, For grandeur or for use. Long wavy wreaths Of flowers that fear’d no enemy but warmth, Blush’d on the pannels. Mirror needed none, Where all was vitreous; but in order due, Convivial table, and commodious seat, (What seem’d at least commodious seat) were there: Sofa, and couch, and high-built throne august. The same lubricity was found in all, And all was moist to the warm touch: a scene Of evanescent glory, once a stream, And soon to slide into a stream again.”
bade the chill boor

Quench life’s frail lamp to rear. Now they assume

2(2)v 16

The front of old cathedral gray with years:

Anon their castellated turrets glow

In high baronial pomp; then the tall mast

Of lofty frigate, peering o’er the cloud

Attracts the eye; or some fair island spreads

Towns, tow’rs, and mountains, cradled in a flood

Of rainbow lustre, changeful as the web

From fairy loom, and wild as fabled tales
Of Araby.

Amid these icy fields

Mark’d they the Ocean monarch, in his sports

Terrific, lashing the wide-foaming surge,

Untaught to dread the harpoon, or to yield

In tides of blood upon the billowy plain

His regency to man. From eastern climes

Where Maelstrom’s vortex threatens the trembling isles

Of Lofoden and Moskoe, where the band

Of Nature in her wildness stamps the seal

Of terror on her deeds, from Norway’s realm

Whose pine-clad forests hail the tardy ray

Of the spent sun, who journeying o’er the heights

Of sky-wraps Dofrefield, exhausted sinks

Upon his western couch,—from thence the band

Of peaceful exiles caught in cheering beams

2(3)r 17

Salvation’s radiance. To their humble cells

Came holy men, by pious Olaf’s Note 16.— Line 315. “To their humble cellsCame holy men, by pious Olaf’s zealWing’d on their mission.” Olaf, or Olaus, a Norwegian king, having renounced heathenism, sent
a priest to Greenland, early in the 0901 < x < 1000tenth century for the conversion of the
inhabitants. His exertions were successful, and the whole colony embraced
Christianity. In the year 11221122, they chose a Norwegian bishop,
and a regular succession in the Episcopacy was preserved, until the year
14061406, when the last of seventeen bishops was sent over. Darkness for
a time overspread the religious prospects of this people; like that which
enveloped ancient Israel, when the harp of prophecy was broken in the
hand of Malachi, and for more than three centuries there was no divine
communication. But in the year 17211721, a pious clergyman of Norway,
by the name of Hans Egede, whose heart had long been moved by the
wretchedness of the Greenlanders, resolved, notwithstanding the obstructions
that were cast in the way of his enterprize, to bear to that inhospitable 17(2)r 195
region the glad tidings of salvation. He was accompanied by about
forty adventurers, who aided him in imparting a knowledge of those arts
which advance the comfort of the present life; while, with the most condescending
attention, the most faithful diligence, and under the pressure
of almost unexampled hardships, he taught the precepts of a religion,
whose benevolence he exemplified. After sustaining the arduous duties
of a missionary almost forty years, he closed his honourable and pious
life, at the age of seventy-three, and to him, and to his son, Paul Egede,
we are indebted for an ample and authentic account of modern Greenland.
The Moravian also, whose zeal in diffusing the blessings of religion, cannot
be too highly appreciated, extended the exertions of their Christian
love to this desolate region. Perhaps it is without parallel in the annals
of benevolence, that a Society so restricted in pecuniary resources, so
afflicted by persecution as to have been reduced to about six hundred individuals,
should display the missionary spirit in such unbroken strength
and splendour. After the oppressions of the Church of Rome, when they
had taken refuge on the estates of Count Zizendorf in Lusatia, they
sent, in the space of nine years, missionaries to Greenland, to South-America,
to Algiers, to Guinea, to Lapland, to the West-Indian and Nicobar
islands
, to Ceylon, to the extremities of the Cape of Good Hope, and to
the wilds of Tartary. About the year 17331733, when the mission of Mr.
Egede
was so coldly patronized by government, and so overclouded by
misfortune, that it seemed ready to expire, the Moravians having resolved
to carry the gospel to Greenland, two of their venerable messengers arrived
on foot at Copenhagen, entreating permission to accomplish their
design. “How,” said one of the ministers of the crown of Denmark,
“do you maintain yourselves in that desolate region?” “By
the labour of our hands,”
they answered “and by the blessing of God.
We will build a house, and cultivate a piece of land, that we may not be
burdensome to any.”
The nobleman, perceiving that they were not fully
acquainted with the sterility of the country, replied, “There is no timber
there to build with.”
“Then,” said these devoted servants of the cross,
“we will dig a cavern in the earth, and lodge there.” These faithful
missionaries with others who from time to time were sent to their assistance,
suffered indescribably from the rigours of the climate, and the
ravages of famine and pestilence. Yet nothing extinguished the flame of 17(2)v 196
their benevolence, and they expressed themselves willing to prolong their
labours until death, to continue “to believe while there was nothing to
be seen, to hope when nothing was to be expected.”
Soon after their
arrival, the Small-Pox was communicated by a Greenlander who had returned
from Europe, and it assumed so malignant a form, that few who
were seized by it, survived beyond the third day. Destitute of the knowledge
of medicine, and of the comforts which alleviate disease, the wretched
natives stabbed themselves, or plunged into the sea, to put a period to
their sufferings. The Moravians, in company with Mr. Egede, hastened
from place to place, to impart assistance or consolation. Empty houses,
and unburied corpses, bleaching on the snow, every where shocked their
eyes. On one island, only one little girl, and her three brothers, survived.
Their father had buried all the inhabitants, and finding himself and his
youngest child smitten with the malady, lay down in a grave, with the
sick infant in his arms, commanding his daughter to cover them with
skins and stones, that their bodies might not be devoured by ravens and
foxes. In 17391739, the severity of that terrific climate was heightened to
an unusual degree, and snow fell in every month of the year. In 1739-03March,
the cold was so intense, that even glass and stones burst. Famine was
the consequence, and continued till 17571757, when it surpassed all that had
ever been imagined by the Europeans. “We found,” said the Missionaries,
“near a house that we visited, fifteen persons nearly starved to
death. They lay near each other, striving to preserve warmth, for they
had no fire, nor the least morsel to eat. For very faintness they did not
care to lift up themselves, or to speak to us. Four of their children were
already dead with hunger. At length a man brought a fish from the sea,
and a girl snatched it, raw as it was, and tore it in pieces with her teeth,
gorging it with violence. She looked pale as death, and was ghastly to
behold. We distributed among them our small pittance, and advised them
to endeavour to remove to our part of the land”
Children perished in
great numbers by famine, and old people were buried alive in order to save
the food that they would have consumed. The Missionaries participated
in these sufferings, till their strength was exhausted, and their constitutions
debilitated, yet occasional success in their spiritual work, caused them to
count their afflictions light. Settlements were formed at New Herrnhut,
Liehtenfels, and Lichtenau; and materials for two churches were sent 17(3)r 197
them from Europe, which were erected and partially filled with worshippers.
In the year 18141814, more than 1100 inhabitants belonged to these
three settlements, and the whole population of Greenland was estimated
at 7000. Since the commencement of the mission by Mr. Egede, which
has comprised a century, the number baptized is computed at about 5000.
The extension of this Note by an interesting extract from the 18th
volume of the Quarterly Review, will be forgiven by minds who have felt
solicitude in the extension of truth, or sympathy for the privations of its
messengers. It is a forcible delineation of the feelings of a missionary
and his family, during the gloom and loneliness of a Greenland winter,
and is drawn from the manuscripts of Saabye, a grandson of that venerated
apostle Hans Egede. “They have one bright epoch; for it is a happy
time, when the ice is loosed from the rocky coast, and they can expect
the arrival of the vessel which alone reaches their solitude. Often deceived
by the floating Ice-berg, forming itself in mockery late into the shape
of their friendly visitant, at length they see the white sails, the towering
masts, the blessed guest riding at anchor in the bay. By this vessel their
wants are supplied. The active and pious housewife busies herself in
arranging the stores of the ensuing twelvemonth. There are letters too,
from friends, and from relations, and books, and newspapers; and banished
as they are, they live again in Denmark, in ‘their father-land.’ The
hour of enjoyment soon glides away; the ship sails; the Missionary and
the partner of his toils remain behind, solitary and forsaken. To this
season of sadness succeeds the gloom of the polar night. A few days
before the --11-2626th of November, Saabye was accustomed to climb the high
rocks, from whence at noon he could just see the sun shining with a soft
and pallid light; and then the sun sank, and he bade farewell to the eye
of creation with heaviness and grief. Dubious twilight lingered till the
beginning of --12December; then darkness ruled. The stream near which
Saabye’s house was situated, roared beneath the ice; the sea dashed and
howled over the rocks, bursting in foam against his windows, and the
dogs filled the air with long continued moans. About the --01-1212th of January,
the rays of the rising sun glittered on the rocks, and suddenly faded,
like the high-raised hopes of man.”
zeal

Wing’d on their mission. Bowing from his throne

To the baptismal font, his soul imbib’d

Pity for distant heathen, and he stretch’d

The sceptre of his love to the far realm

Of Greenland’s loneliness. Then churches rose,

And from the lips of priests and bishops fell

Sublime instruction, like the dews of heaven

Upon the sons of Ericke. These by Time

Mix’d and incorporate with the native race

Content remain’d’ and wrought no change of wrong

Or tyranny. These too, the Esquimaux

Wrapping his dwindled frame in the stol’n robe

Of bear or rein-deer, and in uncouth sounds

Conning his legends ’mid his long, drear night

Counts as his sires.

And did thy footsteps press

These western shores, thou, whom the laureate Muse

Of ardent Southey, from her rapid car

Array’d in cloud-wrought garniture, with stars

Of epic lustre, Madoc! Note 17.— Line 334. “Madoc! wandering sonOf that unconquer’d clime.” From researches made by British Antiquarians, it appears that traditions
exist of the discovery of America, by Madoc ap Owen Guyneth, a
Welch Prince, in the year 11701170. It is asserted that a colony was planted
by him, west of the Mississippi, and that their descendants have at
various times been recognized by travellers. The fact has been recorded
also, by the ancient poets of Wales, and the celebrated Mr. Southey has
founded upon it one of the most interesting modern epic poems in the
English languatge. In Howel’s Letters, volume 2, page 71, it is recorded,
that Madoc ap Owen, Prince of Wales, made two voyages to America, at
the time specified; and the Welsh Cambria, translated into English, by
H. Lloyd, contains, in its 225th page, the reasons which induced that
Prince to undertake such an expedition. Some modern writers have employed
their pens in this investigation, among whom are Dr. Williams,
Rector of Sydenham, and the Rev. George Burder, late of Coventry,
England.
wandering son

Of that unconquer’d clime, whose rifted rocks

Travers’d by browsing goats, still from deep cells

2* 2(3)v 18

Pour tuneful forth the treasur’d minstrelsy Note 18.— Line 337. “The treasure’d minstrelsyOf Taliesin’s harp.” Taliesin, who wrote in the 0501 < x < 0600sixth century, was one of the most celebrated
of the ancient Welch bards. His poems have been highly commended
by the amateurs of the old Cambrian minstrelsy. The affinity of
the language of Wales to the Hebrew, has rendered its study intersting
to many classical scholars; and recently, among the prizes offered in
Jesus College, Oxford, England, for the best six Englynion, on a passage
of Taliesin, beginning “Cymru fu, Cymru fydd.” The early taste of
the Welch, for poetry and music, is well known. The knowledge of the
harp was considered essential to the character of a prince and a hero; and
the bards received in the courts of their kings such dignity and honour,
as Homer asserts were enjoyed by Demodocus and Phemius, in the first
ages of Greece.

Of Tariessen’s harp?

Age roll’d o’er age

Ere the slight prow of bold Columbus broke

Its unknown way, and plough’d the wrathful deep.

The poor Lucayan, as he stood and gaz’d

On those tall ships, and those mysterious men

With brows so pale, and words of loftiest tone

Fancied them Gods, nor dream’d their secret aim

Was theft and cruelty, to snatch the gold

That sparkled in their streams, and bid their blood

Stain those pure waters. Yet the victor spake

Of their mild manners, their deportment kind,

Generous and just, even to the hordes that wrought

Their misery and death. Once as he rov’d

With ardent eye surveying this New World,

From his green summer bow’r, an aged man

Came forth to meet him. As a patriarch, grave,

Yet vigorous he seem’d; thin, silver locks

Wav’d o’er his temples, and his form display’d

That calm and graceful dignity which Time

Tempers, but not destroys. With courteous air

Ripe fruits he offer’d, from the juicy stem

New-cull’d and fragrant, while with gentle words

Bowing, he spake—

2(4)r 19

“See ye these verdant vales,

And spicy forests, where we careless live

In simple plenty? From far distant lands

A differing and superiour race you come,

With mighty weapons, and a warklike force

To us resistless. We have not the heart

To harm the stranger, or to see your blood

Staining our arrows. Yet if men you are,

Like us, subject to death; if ye belief

As we have heard, that after this shortlife

Another comes, unending, where all deeds 370

Receive their due reward, we need not fear

To trust your mercy, for you cannot seek

To wound the innocent.”

Perchance the appeal

Which seem’d so feeble to that conquering chief,

Was ponder’d deeper when his soul had lost

The pride of pow’r. Perchance Note 19.— Line 376. “Perchance in his lone cellAt Vallodolid.” Columbus expired in obscurity, at Valladolid, on the 1508-05-2525th of May,
1508
, in his 59th year, exhausted by hardships and infirmities. The
discoverer of America, like the conqueror of Mexico, found the close of
his days rendered wretched by the persecution of enemies, and the chilling
indifference of those from whom he had expected patronage and consolation.
in his lone cell

At Valladolid, that mild voice might rise

In Memory’s echoes, striking on his car

With painful cadence, as he sought the tomb,

Urg’d on and blasted by the withering frown

Of an ungrateful country.

2(4)v 20

When the steps

Of the invaders first imprest the shores

Of the New World, say, did no dark eclipse

Pervade thy skies, fair Mexico? No sound

Portentous, warn thee that the spoilers came

To riot on thy glory? Mark’d Note 20.— Line 386. “Mark’d thy seersMid the dim vista of futurityOught like the step of Cortes?” It is recorded by Robertson, that an opinion prevailed almost universally
among the Mexicans, that some dreadful calamity would befall their
country, by means of formidable invaders who should come from regions
towards the rising sun. Their superstitious credulity saw in the Spaniards
the instruments of that fatal revolution which they dreaded, and this in
some measure accounts for the success of Cortes, with his ill-appointed
force, over the monarch of a great and populous empire.
When the spoilers, in descending from the mountains of Chalco, caught
their first view of the vast plain of Mexico, interspersed with fertile and
cultivated fields, enriched with a lake resembling the sea in extent, whose
banks were encompassed with large towns, and whose bosom was beautified
with an island, where rose the capital city, adorned with its temples and
turrets, they were impressed at once with a conviction of the great wealth
of the country, and with an irresistable desire to possess it. After the humiliating
death of Montezuma, and the more barbarous subjugation of
Guatimozin, the imperial city yielded to its conquerors, 1521-08-21August 21,
1521
, after sustaining a siege of 75 days. This event, the most
memorable of any in the conquest of America, preceded the death of
Cortes 25 years. The neglect of his country embittered the declining
life of the victor; and it was decreed, that the punishment of his injustice
and cruelty should be inflicted, not by the vengeance of those whom he
had injured, but by the ingratitude of those he had served.
thy seers

’Mid the dim vista of futurity

Aught like the step of Cortez, like his glance

Withering thy charms, as the false Spirit’s eye

On sinless Eden? Pour’d the scroll of Fate

No fearful blackness o’er the final hour

Of hapless Montezuma? Bright the Sun

Still shone, Peru! upon thy diamond cliffs,

Cheer’d the soft flow’ret, blushing, while its roots

Sprang from the sparkling ore, glided the dome

Of Capac’s lofty temple, gave one smile

To his delighted children, though its beam

Was but the sad farewell of peace, and hope,

And liberty. Deep were thy prison sighs

Ahatualpa! Note 21.— Line 400. “Deep were thy prison sighs,Ahatualpa.” The annals of the crimes of man are darkened with no blacker instance
of perfidy, than that of Pizarro to the unfortunate monarch of Peru.
Confiding in the protestations of the Spaniard, he advanced to the distance
of a league from his city, to pay him a visit of respect. Pizarro instructed
a priest to proclaim some of the articles of the Popish faith,
strangely intermixed with the claims of the crown of Spain upon the New
World, to which Ahatualpa not immediately assenting, the desperado
seized him as his prisoner, and gave the signal of assault upon his followers.
The carnage continued till the close of day, and the Peruvians, unprepared
for combat, and ignorant of the mode of European warfare, left
4000 dead upon the field, without scarcely making an impression upon
the phalanx of their enemies. The imprisoned Inca made liberal offers
for his ransom, and his subjects, like those of Richard Coeur de Lion,
would have stripped the churches of their consecrated gold, to purchase
liberty for their beloved sovereign. The apartment in which he was confined
was 22 feet in length and 16 in breadth, and Pizarro demanded that
it should be filled with vessels of gold, as high as he could reach. The
line of demarcation was drawn upon the wall—the Peruvians hastened to
heap the gold to the standard which avarice had prescribed, but with abominable
treachery the Inca was detained in captivity. He was brought to
a mock trial, and condemned to be burnt alive. The miserable monarch
was offered, at the place of doom, that alternative which is allowed the
victims of the Auto da fe, by the mercy of the Inquisition, to confess
the Romish faith, and be strangled at the stake, or continue in heresy,
and endure the anguish of the flame. Ahatualpa bowed to the baptismal
font, and fell an immediate victim to the fury of those who, professing the
“name of Christ, in works denied him.” This execrable deed was perpetrated
in the year 15331533; and on the 1541-06-2626th of June 1541 , Pizarro was
destroyed by conspiracy in the city of Lima. The record of his fame is
stained with atrocious barbarity; and he may be characterized, as the inhabitants
of Melita unjustly designated the shipwrecked apostle, as “a
murderer, whom, though he had escaped the sea, yet vengeance suffered
not to live.”
Vain thy high descent

From mighty Incas; vain thy simple truth

And free confiding kindness to these sons

Of desolation. Not thy proffer’d gold,

Profuse as grasping Mammon’s boundless wish,

2(5)r 21

Could sooth the tyrant’s guilty thirst of blood,

Or bind his perfidy. But thou must bend

In all thy mildness to the blasting doom

Of base Pizarro. Ev’n Religion lends

A mockery to the deed. Methinks I see

That kneeling 1-wordflawed-reproduction at the peaceful font

Of holy baptism, bearing on his lip

The name of Christ, while those profaning bands

Who bless his cross, yet trample on his blood

Prepare th’ unjust, the ignominious pang

Of black’ning torture. But the hour is near,

Unprincipled Pizarro, when thy breast

Shall feel the assassin’s poniard, and thy soul

Fleet where the opprest, and the oppressor meet,

Stript of the baseless pow’r, and tyrant pomp

Of this vain world.

Soon is the track mark’d out

By haughty Spain, the Lusitanian Note 22.— Line 421. “The Lusitanian bandsCame flocking.” The discovery of Brazil is usually placed in the year 15001500. The
honour of that event is ascribed to Perez Alvarez Cabral, a Portugese
naval commander. He originally gave it the name of Santa Cruz, but
this was changed to Brazil, by King Emmanuel. The derivation of the
latter name is from Brasas, a Portugese word, signifying glowing fire,
of a red coal
, which colour resembles that produced by the celebrated
tree ibiritanga, commonly called Brazil wood, with which that country
abounds.
bands

Came flocking; from scant bounds and despot sway,

Eager for space and freedom, their rude hands

Grasp’d the wide zone from where th’ Equator marks

The mouth of Amazon, to the broad sea

Of the La Plata. Sweetly were thy vales

Smiling, Oh fair Brazil! on their new lords.

2(5)v 22

Unconscious that their harvests many a year

Must rise and fatten in the richest blood

Of their own sons. Far northward, where the chill

Of winter linger’d, steer’d the crews of France,

And with a giddy and vivacious joy

Snatch’d for themselves a cold Acadia, Note 23.— Line 433. “Snatch’d for themselves a cold Acadia, whiteWith frost, and drifted snow.” Acadia, the original name given by the French to Nova-Scotia, was
their first possession in the New World. It was granted, in the year
16031603, to De Mons, with somewhat indefinite boundaries, by Henry IV,
of France. Settlements were made in Canada, five years after, by the
same nation. Quebec, the capital was reduced by General Wolfe in
17591759, the year after his conquest of Cape Breton, or Isle Royale.
The whole of Canada was ceded to Great-Britain, by the treaty at Paris,
in 17631763.
white

With frost, and drifted snow. Onward they prest,

Toward where its source the proud St. Lawrence owns,

As Nilus Note 24.— Line 436. “As Nilus ’mid the Abyssinian wastesUnseals through fringed reeds and willows dankHis azure eyes.” The small source whence the St. Lawrence takes its rise, reminds us
of the two parent springs of the Nile, whose size Rollin compares to that
of a coach-wheel. They are, he remarks, thirty paces distant from each
other, and are sometimes called eyes, “the same word, in Arabic, signifying
both eye and fountain.”
’mid th’ Abyssinian wastes

Reveals through fringed reeds, and willows dank

His azure eyes. With trembling awe they mark’d

Bold Niagara hurling down the steep

Eternal thunders, while the battle shock

Of rocks and waters in his gulf profound

Forever by the rushing column swoln,

Uprears a misty canopy to involve

The fearful conflict. Eagerly they trac’d

That land which bounding the broad lakes, erects

A lofty aspect, where the dying sigh

Of Wolfe, on victory’s bloody couch arose,

Where bold Montgomery sank ’mid patriot tears,

And Arnold urged the combat, ere his foot

Prest dark Perdition’s portal.

2(6)r 23

Sad of cheer

Seem Gallia’s sons, as if their thoughts recall

A brighter clime. Ev’n thus in later times

Gleam thy wan features o’er the billowy surge,

Poor German Note 25.— Line 454. “Poor German exile.” The emigration from Germany to the United States, has been greatest
in recent times, than has generally been imagined. Only in the short 17(5)v 202
period included between 1817-07-12July 12th, 1817, and the beginning of the year
18181818, nineteen vessels arrived, bringing passengers to the number of
6000. They were of every age, from infancy to eighty years, and many
of them so poor, that they were compelled to bind themselves out for a
term of service, to defray the expenses of their scantily provided passage.
M. von Fürstenwärther, who was officially appointed to examine the situation
of his countrymen who had emigrated to the United States, reports,
that “the ships made use of in this service, are commonly of the worst
quality, old and unseaworthy, and the commanders ignorant, inexperienced,
and brutal. I was on board of a vessel at the Helder, 1817-07-07July 7th, 1817,
which had formerly been a Russian ship of the line, which a Dutchman
had bought for the sake of carrying German emigrants to Philadelphia.
There were already four or five hundred souls on board, and the vessel
was not to sail without her complement of passengers. I have found the
misery of most of the German emigrants greater, and the condition of all
more forlorn and helpless than I could have imagined. A ship arrived
from Amsterdam at Baltimore, in the summer of 18171817, the greater part
of whose passengers had not paid their freight. Two families were bought
by free negroes in Maryland, but the Germans resident in Baltimore
were so disgusted, that they immediately rebought them, and formed an
association to prevent the recurrence of any such degrading abuse.”
“Laws have been passed in Philadelphia,” says the North-American
Review
, “for the protection of German redemptioners; and by these it
was established, that the extreme term of service, in ordinary cases, for
adults, is four years, and two years for the shortest term. Children under
four years old, are not bound, but follow their parents; males over
four, are bound to serve till they are 21, and females till they are eighteen
years old.”
—Stern realities, to those who parted from their native country
with the expectation of finding in America something like Eden restored.
Exile! by the heavy weight

Of a dense population forc’d away

From the smooth verdure of thy vales, to float

Like feather o’er the wave. I see thee launch

Amid the throng! The deeply laden bark

Moves like a slave-ship o’er the tossing main.

Thou spiest distant mountains, and art told

There is Columbia. Thy sad eye relumes

Its wonted brightness, trusting there to find

A Paradise. Thy trembling footsteps press

The shore of strangers, and a foreign voice

Bids gold against thy freedom. Thou art sold

To pay thy famish’d voyage! ’Mid the toil

Of thy hard term of service, think’st thou nought

Of cherish’d Germany? Say, does no dream

Of fugitive delight glide o’er the spot

That gave thee birth? Men of strange brows are here,

Of other manners, and of unknown speech.

And the sad eyes of thy untutor’d babes

Gaze wildly on them. Hadst thou ne’er a hut

2(6)v 24

Shelter’d by some cool spreading tree?—a stream

To slake thy thirst?—a morsel to refresh

Thy wasted strength? that thou should’st roam to lay

Thy humble head beneath a stranger’s turf,

Poor Emigrant? Hast thou no bond of love,

Proud Germany! to bind thy sons to thee?

No charities of home, that they should fly

Thy glance parental?

Still thy breast conceals

The feudal Note 26.— Line 482. “Still thy breast concealsThe feudal spirit.” “In Germany the feudal institutions still subsist with great vigour.
Its great princes possess all the feudal privileges.”
Robertson’s Scotland.
spirit, prompting thee to count

Thy sons, thy vassals. But thou, sterner France,

Didst with thy persecuting scourge drive forth

Thy worthiest offspring, they who “held the truth

In righteousness of life.” Backward they turn

Their eyes on that delightful land, so lov’d

Of bounteous Nature, yet with deeds of blood

So darkly stain’d. As the receding coast

Fades on the wave, the scenes of other days

Brighten their lineaments. Majestic shades

Of buried heroes rise, array’d in pow’r,

As if they still the field of mortal strife

Rul’d in their might. The form Note 27.— Line 494. “The form of Condé gleamsAs when at Jarnac, rising o’er his wounds.” The intrepid Condé approached the battle of Jarnac, which was sustained
by the Huguenots with such constancy in the year 15691569, with an arm
debilitated and in a state of suffering. Entering the field, his leg also was
broken, by the accidental rearing of the horse of his brother in law. Rising
superior to pain, he exclaimed to his followers, “Nobility of France!
know, that the prince of Condé, with an arm in a scarf, and a leg broken,
fears not to give battle, since you attend him.”
After displaying prodigies
of valour, he was found, exhausted with fatigue, surrounded, and
taken captive. He was placed at the foot of a tree, by those who had
made him their prisoner, and, while in this defenceless condition, was barbarously
shot by Montesquieu, a captain in the guards of the Duke of
Anjou
, whose master was supposed to have instigated the infamous deed,
from motives of personal animosity. The persecuted Huguenots ever
cherished with tender gratitude the memory of their great benefactor.
We may trace a strong expression of this affectionate sentiment, in the
fact recorded by Heriot, in his travels through the Canadas, that the
name of Condé was given, by the early French settlers, to Lake Superior,
as if they were anxious that his fame should find a monument in the most
magnificent body of fresh and pellucid waters which the globe affords.
of Condé gleams

As when at Jarnac, rising o’er his wounds

In scornful valour, or with deep reproach

3(1)r 25

Silent, yet poignant in his dying eye

Transfixing the assassin’s soul who pierc’d

A heart which kinngs had reverenc’d.

With low sigh

Where strong emotions mingle, they recall

The great Coligny, who alike in camp

And council proudly on his front display’d

The name of Hugonot. But as the sire;

To whom th’ approaching grave betokens rest,

Thinks of his sons, his eye that Hero Note 28.— Line 505. “His eye that Hero turn’dToward the New World.” It is well known that Admiral Coligny had contemplated a removal
with the Hugenots, where, enjoying liberty of conscience, they might be
enabled without dread of death to say, “after the way which ye call heresy,
so worship we the God of our fathers.”
Permission had actually been
accorded him, to conduct his adherents to the Floridas, but the design
was deferred until the commencement of hostilities detained him to exhibit,
on the continent of Europe, the invincible firmness and constancy of his
character. He was the first victim of the diabolical massacre at Paris, on 17(6)v 204
1572-08-24St. Bartholemew’s day, 1572. Having been previously wounded by a
hired assassin, and disenabled from defending himself, he was murdered in
his chamber by a party led on by his implacable enemy, the Duke of
Guise.
turn’d

Toward the New World, solicitous to find

A refuge for his followers. See, he falls

The tumult rages! The fierce Guises steep

Their swords in blood, and the insatiate soul

Of Catharine riots in the dire repast.

Oh night of horror! night of nameless guilt!

To be remember’d while the world shall stand,

With stern abhorrence.

See, the pious few

Escape to this far coast. Firmly they bear

Their lot of sorrow, while they meekly bend

Over the page inspir’d. Hail, holy book!

Best gift of Heaven, instructing Man to bear

Life’s discipline, with devoutly fix’d

3 3(1)v 26

On Mercy’s purpose, through the wildering maze

Of fate, or storm of woe, discovering oft

That golden chain fast linking all below

To Wisdom’s throne. Divinely didst thou shed

In earliest ages on prophetic souls,

Through types and symbols, a prelusive beam

Of His approach whose sorrow was our peace.

Hail, harp of Prophecy! to mortal touch

Attun’d by the Great Spirit! Him who mov’d

Upon the murmuring waters, when the light

Sprang out of Chaos, and who breath’d the soul

Of inspiration into holy breasts

Of seers and patriarchs, when their raptur’d strains

Hymn’d the Messiah.

Hail, mysterious harp!

That ’mid the trees of Paradise wert hung,

Wreath’d with unsullied roses. Thou wert wak’d

From Eden’s dewy slumbers by the touch

Of the Eternal, while thy trembling chords

Awfully prest, spake of the future God

Incarnate, who should bruise the crested head

Of the foul serpent.

At the lapse of Man

Thy garlands wither’d, and a mournful wreath

3(2)r 27

Of cypress buds entwin’d thee, shuddering deep,

As thy sad voice pour’d forth the fatal doom

Of him who was but dust.

Anon thy tones

Breath’d in soft cadence on the wond’ring ear

Of righteous Abraham. Pensively he mark’d

The vales of Haran, fond to linger near

His father’s sepulchres, revolving deep

The fiat to forsake his cherish’d home

Kindred and country. Then didst thou confirm

His high obedience by the heavenly strain,

Cheering his soul with promises of Him

In whom his race unborn, and all the earth

With her uncounted families should joy

And find a blessing. Thou didst faintly gleam

Upon the eye of Jacob, as he lay

In his death-trance. With cold yet pow’rful hand

He prest thee, and thine utterance was a sound

That fir’d with extacy his glowing eye.

Thou didst announce Messiah in his power

Coming to Zion, as the sceptre fell

From humbled Judah. Balaam’s doubtful hand

Rov’d o’er thy secret chords, though his heart shrunk

At the exulting praises of the Star

3(2)v 28

That should arise for Israel, and the might

Of that high sceptre, which in distant days

Should crush his foes. The Psalmist’s tuneful touch

Rul’d thee, Oh sacred Harp, with skill so sweet

So masterly, that angels deem’d they heard

Earth echo their own lyres, and bent to learn

Of mysteries, which they had long desir’d

In vain to comprehend. Isaiah wak’d

To melody thy diapason strong,

Till thy rous’d strings pour’d forth in strains divine

The glories of Emmanuel. Deep they moan’d

In broken cadence of his earthly woes,

His word despis’d, his visage marr’d, his form

Laid in the tomb, and then in raptur’d tones

Of thrilling music, chanted of his throne

O’er all the earth, when heav’n-born peace should
reign,

And the fierce lion turning from his rage

Caress the lamb. The weeping prophet’s tears

Dew’d thee, Oh Harp! as from thy chords he drew

Music of heaven, still soften’d by his sighs

For Zion’s ruin, for the wounds that rent

The “daughter of his people.”

3(3)r 29

――He, who saw

On Chebar’s banks high visions, caught thy gleam

Of sudden beauty through the parted clouds

And hasting, press’d thee. Daniel swept thy strings,

And Haggai made thee vocal, ’mid the tide

Of ecstacy, that rushing bore away

The mists of time, and made the future stand

Unveil’d and glowing. Malachi came last

In the long range majestic of Heaven’s seers.

Kneeling, the sacred harp of God he took,

And prest it to his lips. His hand essay’d

To rouse it, and its treasur’d voice awoke

Thrilling and tremulous. But Oh! a Power

Invisible controul’d it, and its strings

Quiv’ring, were broken.

――Nature seem’d to mourn

The awful wreck. Night came, and darkness fell,

Long darkness. On the head of hoary Time

It settled, and desponding mortals wept

While tardy ages slowly rose to birth

And roll’d away. At length the twilight dawn’d

O’er the dim mountains, and that day-star shone

Whose short ray, fading on the rosy cloud,

Announc’d the Sun of Righteousness. A voice

3* 3(3)v 30

Cry’d in the wilderness, and roughly clad,

Exhorting to repentance, with stern brow

Stood the forerunner of our Lord, to mark

His way before him. Like a beam he glow’d,

Severing the midnight of the legal rites

From the glad gospel’s morn. But the frail lamp

Was quench’d in blood, and o’er the dazzled skies

Rose earth’s salvation. Seraph lyres awoke

Responsive, breathing forth “good will and peace”

In strains of rapture, and the shepherd train

Watching their flocks, beheld that glorious star,

Whose orb mysterious cast a healing ray

O’er all the nations.

3(4)r 31

Canto Second.

Behold they come!—O’er the wide-tossing sea

Their ships adventurous throng. Their tall masts cleave

The dim horizon, and what seem’d but specks

On Ocean’s bosom, spread wide, snowy sails

Curtaining the rocky shore. In crowds descend

The eager inmates, joyous to escape

Their floating prison and unvarying view

Of the eternal wave. Almost it seem’d

As if old Europe, weary of her load,

Pour’d on a younger world than her thousand sons

In ceaseless deluge. Thus, when he whose eye

“Eclips’d by drop serene,” more clearly saw

Things hid from mortal vision, sang sublime

Of war in Heaven, the seated hillocks rose,

And uptorn mounts their myriad streams disgorg’d

Whelming the recreant angels.

Thither came

To Nature’s boldest scenery, men who saw

No beauty in her charms, in the dark arch

3(4)v 32

Of mountain forest springing to the skies

E’er since Creation, on the mighty cliff

Crown’d with rich light, or wrapt in sable clouds

No grandeur trac’d; for still their eyes were bent

In the dark caverns of the Earth to grope

For drossy ore. Note 1.— Line 24. “—still their eyes were bentIn the dark caverns of the earth to gropeFor drossy ore.” The thirst of gold, which excited both the enterprize and the barbarity
of the settlers of South-America, pervaded in some degree the colonists
of Virginia. About the year 16071607, a glittering earth was discovered in
the channel of a small stream near Jamestown, and from that time, says
Stith in his history, “there was no thought, no discourse, no hope, and
no work, but to dig gold, wash gold, refine gold, and load gold.”
Capt.
Smith’s
representations of the folly of such conduct had no effect, and
they persisted in loading a vessel for England with this drossy dust.
“Two vessels,” says Judge Marshall, “returned thither in the spring
and summer of 16081608, one laden with this dust, and the other with cedar:
the first remittances ever made from America by an English colony.”
These, in the chyrstal stream

Fring’d with the silvery willow, in the foam

Of the wild thundering cataract, bearing on

A mighty tribute to the swelling sea,

Beheld no majesty, nor deign’d a glance

Save on the glittering sediment. To Heaven,

If it were possible, that to the seat

Of God such souls might soar, no thought of bliss

Could reach them there, except to gaze intense

Upon the golden pavement. Thither hied

Ambition, deck’d with nodding plumes, and proud

In martial port. What saw he to allure

His haughty glance, amid a simple race

Content like poor Caractacus to hold

Nought but a humble hovel? Yet he snatch’d

His trophies from the savage, with a hand

More savage still, nor did his stern soul shrink

To find his laurels tarnish’d with the blood

Of Innocence. Here too the patriot came

3(5)r 33

Indignant at th’ oppressor, proud to dwell

With liberty, though on the storm-rock’d cliff,

Where the stern Eagle broods. The Poet Note 2.— Line 45. “The Poet lur’dHis muse to emigrate.” Among the colonists of New England, who came under the protection
of the son of Sir Ferdinando Gorges, in 16231623, was the Rev. William
Morrell
, an Episcopal Clergyman, bearing a Commission from the Ecclesiastical
Court
in England to exercise superintendancy over such
churches as might be established in the new region. He was a man of 18 18(1)v 206
classical taste, and described that part of the country which he explored, in
an elegant Latin poem, a few specimens of which are subjoined with an
attempt at translation. But he early made the discovery that the climate
was uncongenial to his favourite art, and too frigid for the expansion of
genius, and he returned to his native country, after an absence of one
year.
“Hactenus ignotam populis ego carmine primus, Te Nova, de veteri cui contigit Anglia nomen, Aggredior trepidus pingui celebrare Minerva. Fer mihl numen opem, cupienti singula plectro Pandere veridico, quæ nuper vidimus ipsi: Ut brevitèr vereque sonent modulamina nostra, Temperiem cœli, vim terræ, munera ponti, Et varios gentis mores, velamina cultus. Anglia felici merito Nova nomine gaudens, Sœvos nativi mores pertœsi colini, Indigni penitùs populi tellure feraci, Mœsta superfusis attollit fletibus ora, Antiquos precibus flectens ardentibus Anglos, Numinus æterni felicein lumine gentem Efficere; ætternis, quæ nune peritura tenebris. Sunt etenim populi minimi sermonis, et oris Austeri, risusque partim, sœvique superbi; Constricto nodis hirsuto crine sinistro, Imparibus formis tendentes ordine villos; Mollia magnanima peragentes otia gentes, Arte sagittiferâ pollentes, cursibus, armis Astutæ; recto, robusto corpore et alto, Pellibus indutæ cervinis, frigora eontra Aspera. Num sua lunari distinguunt tempora motu, Non quot Phoœbus habet cursus, sed quot sua conjux Expletus vicibus convertat Cynthia cursus, Noctibus enumerant sua tempora, nulla diebus, Mosque düs India est inservire duobus, Quorum mollis, amans, bona dans, inimica, repellens 18(2)r 207 Unus, amore bonum vererantur: at invidus alter, Dizos effundens cum turbine, fulgura nimbos. Afficiensque malis variis morbisque nefandis, Et violentis: hune gelidà formidine adorant.” “Hail, unknown World! in shades so long enroll’d! My trembling voice reveals thee to the Old. I, of rude wit, and undistinguish’d name, Inscribe thy record on the scroll of fame, Myself a stranger, choose the stranger’s theme, And first for thee invoke the poet’s dream: Oh! may some heavenly Muse th’ attempt inspire And pour her spirit o’er my shrinking lyre. Thy genial breezes bear the blush of health, Earth spreads her gifts, and Ocean yields his wealth, Yet ’mid thy happy lot incessant sighs Heave thy pure breast, and tears distain thine eyes, Thy abject race a speechless sorrow wakes, And still thine eye its supplication makes, For some blest beam to light their hopeless tomb, And snatch their souls from everlasting gloom. —Men, spare in language, and of brow austere, Averse from laughter, and in wrath severe, Supreme in strength the stubborn bow to wield, And bold in courage ’mid the blood-stain’d field; Men of proud spirit, and of fierce design, Tho’ oft in lingering indolence supine, Swift in the race as speeds the rushing storm. With wind-swept tresses, and majestic form, Clad in rude skins that mark the hunter’s toil. Throng the dark wild, but shun a cultur’d soil. Not by the smile which ardent Phœbus gives, When to her annual goal the Earth arrives, Not by the changes of revolving Day, Their time they measure, or existence weigh: But by the lamp which gentle Cynthia burns, 18(2)v 208 As round our orb her silver axle turns, And by the march of slow majestic Night, Whose tardy vigils mock the trembling light. —Two Pow’rs unseen, their humbled hearts confess, One, full of good, omnipotent to bless, And one, in clouds who veils his awful form, His sport the lightning, and his voice the storm: And this, through fear, with abject rites adore.” Another poet, also, at a still earlier period, hazarded a transportation
to our western clime. This was Stephen Parmenias, a man of
great learning, who was born at Buda, in Hungary, about the middle
of the 1501 < x < 160016th century. For the completion of his education, he visited
the most celebrated European universities, and during his residence
in England, forming a friendship for Sir Humphrey Gilbert, the half
brother of Sir Walter Raleigh, decided to accompany him in his expedition
to America, under the patronage of Queen Elizabeth. In the
summer of 15831583, they arrived at Newfoundland, and took possession
of it, in the name of the British crown. The Hungarian poet preserved
the memory of this expedition, in an elegant Latin poem, rich
with classical allusions, but on his return to Europe the same year,
unfortunately perished in a violent storm, together with the admiral,
and nearly a hundred of the crew. The poem alluded to, and likewise
a more particular account of this interesting Hungarian, may be
found in the ninth volume of the Collections of the Massachusetts
Historical Society
.
lur’d

His muse to emigrate, and fondly told

Of sylvan haunts, and fairy domes; but frost

Chain’d her light pinion, and the sun-beam cast

That cold regard, which like some icy chill

Still withers genius. Here, with footsteps slow

Came calm philosophers, shunning the throng

Who waste existence in an empty chase

Of frail ephemera, to merge the soul

In solitude, as in her element

Of purest health, and pause o’er Nature’s chain

Where link by link, with mystic art she binds

Terrestrial to divine.

The Christian knelt

Upon this rocky strand, intent to build

His tabernacle where despotic pow’r

Might rear no image, and compel his soul

To offer homage—where the spirit’s eye

Might seek its sire, uncheck’d by the dire bolt

Of persecution’s thunder, and with awe

Amid the silence of his works, revere

The great Creator. Thus with varying aim

3(5)v 34

Flock’d the firm Swede, bold Danube’s patient sons,

The toiling Belgian, Albions patriot race,

And thine, Oh Caledon! blest land of song,

While fair Hibernia pour’d in throngs profuse

Her ardent offspring. Guided by the breath

Of southern gales, the bands of England steer’d

Where the proud waters of the mighty James,

And swift Potomac, mark’d the broad domain

Of great Powhatan. He more years had told

Than hoary Nestor. Thrice Note 3.— Line 75. “Thrice had he beheldHis fading race scatter’d like autumn leaves.” Powhatan told Captain Smith that he was “very old, and had seen
the death of all his people thrice, so that not one of the first generation
was living beside himself.”
Mr. Jefferson, in his Notes on
Virginia
, relates that at the first settlement of the English, the territories
of Powhatan, were said to comprise 8000 square miles.
had he beheld

His fading race scatter’d like autumn leaves,

While he, unshorn and unsubdu’d, remain’d

King of the forest. To his region came,

Aiding the adventurous, one whose daring soul

Breath’d the high spirit of heroic deeds,

The brave, accomplish’d Smith. No. 4.— Line 81. “The brave accomplish’d Smith.” Capt. John Smith, who accompanied the Colony, which, in 16071607,
planted itself at Jamestown, displayed so many uncommon talents,
suited to the exigencies of those difficult times, that the early historians
have been eloquent in his praise. Stith, in his History of Virginia,
written in the year 14741747, records in his antiquated style, the
testimony of the soliders, and fellow-adventurers of Smith. “They
confess that in that age, there were many captains who were no
soldiers, but that he was a soldier of the true old English stamp,
who fought, not for gain or empty praise, but for his country’s
honour and the public good; that his wit, courage and success
were worthy of eternal memory; that by the mere force of his
virtue and courage, he awed the Indian kings, and made them submit
and bring presents; that notwithstanding such a stern and
invincible resolution, there was seldom seen a milder and more
tender heart than his was; that he had nothing in him counterfeit
or sly; but was open, honest, and sincere, and that they never
knew a soldier before him, so free from the military vices of wine,
tobacco, debts, dice, and oaths.”
Judge Marshall, in his biography
of Washington, in describing the expedients which Capt. Smith
devised, and the dangers which he encountered for the protection
of the colony, remarks, that “he preserved his health unimpaired,
his spirits unbroken, and his judgment unclouded, amidst the genral
misery and dejection.”
After his liberation from captivity by
Powhatan, he concerted measures for the safety of the colony, and
the welfare of his government, he undertook a bold expedition to
explore the waters of the Chesapeake, and to make researches into
the countries upon its shores. “He entered,” says Marshall, “most
of the large creeks, and sailed up many of the great rivers to their
falls. He made accurate observations on the extensive territories
through which he passed, and on the various tribes inhabiting
them, with whom he alternately fought, negotiated and traded.
In the various situations in which he found himself, he always
displayed judgment, courage, and that presence of mind, which is
so essential to the character of a commander; and he never failed 18* 18(3)v 210
finally to inspire the savages whom he encountered, with the most
exalted opinion of himself, and of his nation. When we consider
that he sailed above three thousand miles in an open boat; when
we contemplate the dangers, the hardships, he endured, and the
fortitude, patience, and courage with which he bore them; when
we reflect on the useful and important additions which he made to
the stock of knowledge, respecting America, then possessed by his
countrymen, we shall not hesitate to say that few voyages of discovery,
undertaken at any time, reflect more honour on those
engaged in them, than this does on Captain Smith.”
His dauntless mind

And vigorous frame, scorning fatigue and toil,

Had gathered laurels from the lofty heights

Of martial Europe, from the battle fields

Of sultry Asia, where pure christian blood

Mingling with the dark tide from Turkish veins,

Had stain’d the red-cross banners.

3(6)r 35

――Buoyant Hope

Still smiling in his eye, while other brows

Were blanch’d with terror, or with wan despair

The giddy heights of Fame he had achiev’d,

The goal of strange adventure, and the maze

Of deep Romance, ere Manhood’s tinge Note 5.— Line 92. “—ere Manhood’s tinge had bronz’dHis blooming cheek.” Captain Smith was born at Willoughby in 17591759, and at the time
of his slavery in Constantinople, when most of the romantic adventures
of his life had terminated, the hero had only attained the
age of 23 years.
had bronz’d

His blooming cheek. The syren charms of wealth

Cluster’d around his cradle, and the lawns

Of Willoughby, replete with genial gales

Nurtur’d his roving boyhood. There he shar’d

Sport, such as hardihood and danger love,

Though it mocks at them. From historic lore

A restless, kindling impulse caught the flame

That fir’d heroic souls; and as he bent,

A silent student o’er his daily task,

Unfetter’d fancy bore him far beyond

His island home, to rove in distant climes,

And act in other ages, with the men

Of high renown. And when his joyous youth

Mark’d with a traveller’s eye, the varied scenes

Of Europe’s grandeur, not the beauteous Seine

Winding through flow’ry vales, or crown’d with domes

Of gay Parisian luxury, nor yet

Those arts by which the patient Hollander

3(6)v 36

Props his scant birthright ’gainst usurping seas,

Nor Nature’s majesty, when on the Alps

She rests her cloudy coronet, could charm

His sanguine heart, like the red chart of war

Graven on hero’s monument, or drawn

In fearful lines upon the furrow’d earth

Where battles once were fought.

The rocky bounds

Of Caledonia next his step explor’d,

Seeking its monarch’s court; for there he thought

Amid that brave and high-soul’d race to meet

Some kindred spirits. But the pedant king,

Offspring of beauteous Mary, soon to wield

The Stuart sceptre o’er high Albion’s throne,

Allur’d by promises the youthful band

To throng around him, yet no food supplied

To cheer ambition. Smith’s impetuous sword

Spurn’d at the thistly harvest, as he sought

Once more his native halls. But not the joys

Of softening home might lure that Spartan soul

Girding its armour on. From the fair domes

Where lingering Courtesy too oft detain’d

His coldly render’d time, the youth recluse

Turn’d to the forest, and ’mid deepest shades

4(1)r 37

Chose out a silent spot. Riven from their trunks

Firm boughs of cedar with the knotty oak

He interwove, in architecture rude,

Forming a green pavilion. There he gave

His soul its favourite lore, the rudiments

Of warlike science; or on fiery steed

With glittering lance, evinc’d in graceful feat

Of manly daring, or of martial skill

His ponder’d theory. Thus the fam’d prince

Of eloquence, sublime Demosthenes,

Pent in his subterranean cell, pursued

The art he lov’d, or mid the Ocean’s roar

Utter’d its precepts. Still this close recess

Was sacred from the interrupting foot

Of Idleness, from enervating sports

And light amusements of the giddy throng;

Hither no soft indulgence gliding came

In Epicurean robe, or Beauty’s brow

Bent its keen glance of sarcasm to annoy

The military anchorite. But sounds

Of distant war, of battle grimly fought

Beneath the cloud of Turkish banners, came,

Loading the deep-ton’d gale. As the proud steed,

Long held in durance, hears the trumpet blast

4 4(1)v 38

And struggling, rends the earth, thus the bold youth

Undisciplin’d, unsanction’d, unrestrain’d

By sage experience, rushes on his course.

This eager zeal he strove to sanctify

With high devotion’s name, and, as he took

His rapid journey, often ask’d his heart

With angry emphasis, if it were meet

That ancient city where the Saviour pour’d

His dying blood, should bow its hallow’d head

To sacrilegious thraldom? Thus is Man

Prone with Religion’s front to dignify

His doubtful deeds, baptising in Heaven’s name

His earthly promptings.

Where Marseilles retreats

To rocky barrier, Note 6.— Line 171. “Where Marseilles retreatsTo rocky barrier.” Marseilles, the ancient Massilia, is situated at the foot of a
rocky mountain near the sea. Its natural advantages for commerce
were such, that its trade flourished even in the days of Gothic barbarism.
The politeness and literature of its early inhabitants,
were so conspicuous, that Livy pronounced it to have been as
much polished as if it had risen in the midst of Greece; and Cicero
denominated it the “Athens of the Gauls.”
from sea-beaten shore,

’Mid thronging masts, the traveller’s glance espies

A parting sail, and up the vessel’s side

Ascends with little question. Here he found

A throng of devotees, in pilgrim’s weeds,

Bound to Loretto, there to consummate

Penance or vow.

Loudly they spake in praise

Of that fair shrine by wondering angels borne,

On outstretch’d pinions, from the Holy Land

4(2)r 39

To glad Dalmatia, and from thence transferr’d,

Pitying the toil of weary pilgrim saints,

To happy Italy. Oft they describ’d

The cell with lingering rainbow Note 7.— Line 183. “Oft they describ’dThe cell with lingering rainbow ever bright.” The niche, in which the statue of the Virgin is placed in the
Casa Santa of the church at Loretto, is adorned among other
costly declarations, with 71 large Bohemian Topazes; near it
stands an angel of cast gold, profusely enriched with gems and
diamonds; and the lustre of the precious stones with which this
cell is ornamented, has been compared by pilgrims to a rainbow. 18(4)r 211
eclipsing the lamps with which it is contrasted. The chamber,
containing this statue, is alleged by the adherents of the Romish
church, to have been carried through the air by angels in the
month of 1291-05May, 1291, from Galilee to Tersato, in Dalmatia. From
thence it was removed in the same manner, after having reposed
somewhat more than four years, and set down in a wood in
Italy, about midnight in the month of 1291-12December, where it remained
nearly 200 years, before it was noticed by any author of that
country.
ever bright,

Which hath no need of sun, or silver moon,

Or glimmering lamp, and that blest Lady’s form,

The glorious Virgin, whose meek brow hath pow’r

To cancel sin: and ever as they spake

Their eye with mortified, yet curious glance

Fell on the silent warrior.—Soon recedes

The crowded mart, and fades the Gallic coast

In the faint emerald of the tideless sea,

While the refreshing and propitious gales

Swell the dilated canvas. But the day,

That sunk in smiles, rose not; so dense a cloud

Involv’d her in its canopy. Low blasts

Moan’d hollow from the bosom of the deep,

And fluttering ’mid the heavy, humid sails,

The sea-birds shriek’d. Around the feverish moon

Hung a wan circle, livid as the spot

Where aspic poison creeps. Then as the wing

Of the black tempest wav’d ’mid mutinous winds

And mighty thunders, while the reeling bark

Alternate mounted on the slippery wave,

4(2)v 40

Or roll’d in dark abysses, ye might see

Those frighted pilgrims, with dishevell’d locks

Telling their beads, and calling every saint

Of note throughout the calendar to help

Their great extremity.

The soldier thought

Of that Disciple, valiant in his faith,

Who on the mission of his Master’s will

Went bound to Rome, and on that very sea

Encounter’d shipwreck. He remember’d too

The arm that sav’d him, and upon that prop

Rested his waiting eye, while the dread storm

Woke its third day of gloom. But the stern band

Bent a dark scowling glance on him who clasp’d

No rosary, nor in such awful hour

Ave Maria utter’d; and it seem’d

To their perverted minds, that for his sin

Such evil had pursued their innocence.

Pale Superstition’s traitor eye reveal’d

Her darken’d purpose, ere its venom sprang

To the blanch’d lip, to purchase with his death

Imagin’d safety. In rash narrow minds

The blinding motive from the blasting deed

Hath no division. As the mariners

4(3)r 41

Of Tarshish hurl’d the recreant prophet forth,

So these good pilgrims in their righteous zeal

To save themselves, cast out the stranger youth

Into the raging element. Proud waves

Broke over him, but with impetuous strength

He brav’d their fury. Long the foaming surge

With head uprais’d, and firm, undaunted breast

He baffled in his might. Long unappall’d

His spirit view’d the purpose of his life

Still unaccomplish’d, and believ’d that God

Would snatch him from the deep, though all its waves

And water-spouts pass’d over him.

But day

Sunk on her couch, and Evening quench’d the light,

The feeble light, that from the billow’s crest

Had gleam’d upon the wanderer. Driven on

Like broken leaf before the blast, he seemed

A thing for storms to sport with, or the child

Of the dark surge, to which he wildly clung

As to a mother’s breast. Alone he felt,

As if in wide Creation, nought but him

Surviv’d. Cold languor o’er the springs of life

Crept slowly, ’gainst his unresisting form

Rush’d the wild wave, and his despairing ear

4* 4(3)v 42

Heard the hoarse voice of waters and of winds,

As of a death-dirge. Midnight darkness prest

The wrathful deep, and dropping he resigns

His body to the tomb where myriads sleep,

Waiting that trump which warns the startled sea

To yield her dead. Ah! when the arm of Man

Resigns its power, the Omnipotence of God

Is nearest in deliverance. A rude shock

Convuls’d the victim’s frame, as if it broke

The Spirit’s casket on those marble rocks

Where slippery sea-weed binds the pearly cells

In depths unfathomable. His rent ear

Stunn’d by the thundering tide resigns its pain

To welcome silence, and his stiffen’d arms

Convulsive clasp the sharp and rugged rocks,

While his dim eye and fainting bosom hail

The house of Death; for thus the sufferer deem’d

That lonely isle, on whose deserted bound

God had prepar’d his refuge.

When he thought

Earth with her bars had clos’d around his pit

Forever; from that dungeon of despair

Jehovah had redeem’d him, to behold

The light among the living. There he lay

4(4)r 43

Long in Exhaustion’s trance, while the spent strom

Swept by on drooping pinion. Then look’d forth

From her deep sable arch, the timid Moon,

And saw the slumberer on that rocky beach

With bloodless cheek, and panting breast that heav’d

Heavily, in low sobs: so strong did Life

Contend, and yet so bitterly had Death

Urg’d his expected victory. Young Morn

From her bright eye such genial warmth diffus’d

That up the sleeper sprang, his humid locks

Still dripping, and his countenance illum’d

With that inert expression, which displays

Its sceptic glances, when the muscles live

Before the intellect; while the lost mind

Coming from exile, like the strong man arm’d

Findeth her mansion empty. Thus, perchance,

Beam’d the wan features of the man entomb’d,

In that first moment, when returning life,

Caught from the touch of dead Elisha’s bones,

Pervaded him: and well thy pencil’s pow’r,

Allston! hath kindled that mysterious gleam

When in brief struggle the terrestial strove

With the celestial, and dull matter mov’d

Ere the Creator’s breathing spirit gave

Pure Thought its resurrection.

4(4)v 44

Soon with eye

No longer vacant, though still unassur’d

He, who had deem’d his mortal conflict o’er,

Strove with bewilder’d toil to wake the trace

Of shipwreck’d Memory. Almost it seem’d

That the strange fable caught from Pagan lore Note 8.— Line 302. “Almost it seem’dThat the strange fable caught from Pagan lore.” The doctrines of Purgatory, which some have derived from the
Platonic fancies of Origen, the Montanism of Tertullian, pretended
visions, or doubtful expressions of the later fathers, was introduced
in part towards the close of the 0401 < x < 0500fifth century, but not positively
affirmed till the year 11401140, nor made an article of faith, till the
council of Trent.

And interwoven with the creed of Rome

Were true, and to some isolated nook

Of Purgatory, he had been comdemn’d,

To expiate the errors which had stain’d

His former being. Well this spot might seem

The broken isthmus of a middle state

Remote from joys of either world; for nought

Like cheering verdure, or reviving shade

Of pensile bough was there. No cavern deep,

Like that of Patmos, where the lov’d of God

Saw holy visions, spread a cool recess

From the sun’s fervour; and no transient gourd

Like that which shelter’d Jonah’s head, and lull’d

His dark repining, rear’d its fragile stem

To blossom for a night. But the lone isle,

One naked rock, lash’d by th’ eternal surge

Appall’d the eye. Not with such poignant woe

The solitary glance of Selkirk fell

4(5)r 45

On lone Fernandez; there were bowers of shade,

Green earth, fair plants, nutritious roots and fruits

To cheer existence, there the bounding goats

Furnish’d his household flock, the gentle kids

Lay at his feet, and fondly seem’d to claim

Companionship.

――But here was nought to break

The rayless gloom of sceptred solitude,

Nor foot of animal, nor chirp of bird,

Nor e’en a shrub, on which might hang one nest,

For the poor hermit’s heart to watch and love.

Words intermix’d with sighs at length burst forth,

And strange their utterance seem’d, where human tone

Had never woke before, the slumbering cell

Of unborn Echo――

“Ah! is this sad spot

My place of doom? No more must I behold

The countenance of man? Ne’er hear his voice

Answering to mine? Methinks the serpent’s hiss

Were music to this ever-dashing wave.

The sight of the most loath’d of Nature’s works,

Vile worm, or slimy snail, or swollen toad, 340

Were joy. Shall withering famine terminate

My dateless being on this nameless shore?

4(5)v 46

Then what avails how drear the solitude

That hangs its blackening curtain o’er a grave

Which none may visit? A dissever’d link

From vast Creation’s chain, no pitying voice

Of kindred or of friend shall e’er inquire

Whose bones lie bleaching on this blasted bourne

Of desolation. Hence! away ye hopes,

Pictur’d in childhood, treasur’d in gay youth, 350

Vain, airy bubbles! See, the lofty plans

Of proud Ambition, luring me to join

My name with heroes, see the glorious scroll

Unroll’d by Fancy, shrivel to the seal

Of blank Oblivion.”

With such groans, perchance,

Though stung to deeper agony, complain’d

The fugitive of Elba, from whose head

The crown had fall’n. His prison isle he pac’d

With frantic step, and o’er the sounding beach

Roving like maniac, tax’d with madd’ning curse

And ceaseless question, the unresting wave.

Yet was he not alone, for round him throng’d

Thin spectral shapes from Lodi’s bloody field,

From Jena, Jaffa, Borodino’s bound,

Dread Austerlitz, Marengo, Moscow’s wreck

4(6)r 47

From countless scenes they rose, and flitting sought

To gaze on their destroyer. Conscience shrunk

At solitude so populous, and Pride,

Which quell’d Remorse, wept at Ambition’s goad,

Vexing, like him of Macedon, to find

Bounds to its conquest.

Would ye ask what throng’d

The mental temple, when in frowns he rov’d

Listning indignant to the Atlantic roar

On lone St. Helena? Did Memory’s torch

Light up his past career, o’er blasted earth,

And wasted being, subjugated realms

And “seas of flame;” Note 9.— Line 377. “And ‘seas of flame.’” Moscow, in its conflagration, was emphatically compared to an
“Ocean of flame.”
or Pity bear the wail

Of childless parent, and of sireless babe?

Did pale Remorse, lifting her serpent scourge,

Come with the manes of the mighty dead

Who fell by treachery? Did despair announce

The fearful miseries of the falsely great?

Or sad Contrition wake the pungent tear

That cleanses guilt?――

Peace! for his doom is seal’d.

Man may not scan the conflict of the soul

When the chill lip drinks the last bitter drop

Of life’s exhausted cup. Man may not pass

4(6)v 48

Verdict upon the heart, which the High Judge

Alone explores. Nor should he rashly hurl

His condemnations forth, since he, himself

With all his fancied, all his just deserts,

Is but an erring, trembling candidate

For his Creator’s mercy.

Turn we now

To that lone exile on yon islet dark,

Who is the breathless struggle where fair Hope

Too weak for contest, copes with pallid Fear,

Descries a sail. Advancing where the rock

Strikes its sharp bastion farthest in the main,

His hand he waves in agony, and wastes

The remnant of his voice. Ah, see! a boat

Approaches him. Already he perceives

The quick dash of the oar, and the light foam

Rippling around its prow. Holy that sight,

As the ark’s casement to the trembling Dove

Whose weary pinion o’er the shoreless waste

Droop’d as in death. Not once the exile thought

If friend or foe approach him, the proud Turk,

Or wily Arab, or brute Algerine,

All the stern ills that man inflicts on man,

Slavery, or galley-chain, or ceaseless toil

5(1)r 49

Seem’d in that hour of wild emotion, light

To everduring loneliness. The voice

Of Man once more accosts him, a kind arm

Supports his feeble steps to reach the boat

And scale the vessel’s side, while fainting, pale,

And speechless, he admits the tide of joy

To whelm his soul. Stretch’d on the ready couch,

Reviv’d with welcome cordials and the tone

Of sympathy, the sufferer’s heart expands

In boundless gratitude, to that blest Pow’r,

Who snatch’d him from his dungeon; while the bands

Of courteous France, who listened to his tale,

Exulting, that their gallant ship had sav’d

A fellow-creature, merg’d in that pure joy

The light aversion which their native coast.

And sea-girt Albion cherish. Long they cruis’d

O’er the untroubled waters, mark’d the coast

Of sultry Afric, caught the fragrant gales

That fan Sicilian vineyards, cross’d the tide

Of the rough Adriatic, steer’d with care

Amid Ionian quicksands, and beheld

The Ægean wave with sprinkled lustre bright

Of emerald islets, where the classic Muse

Delights to linger. There old Tenedos

5 5(1)v 50

Frown’d upon ruin’d Ilion; Lemnos hush’d

Her Cyclopean forge; while Lesbian heights

Still seem’d to echo to Alcæus’s harp,

And Sappho’s fond complaint. There Samos spread

Her beauteous harbours o’er the violent wave,

While in perspective soft, her green fields gleam’d

In semi-annual harvest, Note 10.— Line 441. “There Samos spreadHer beauteous harbours o’er the violet wave,While in perspective soft her green fields gleam’dIn semi-annual harvest.” Between Samos and Icaria, the intensely deep blue colour of
the water has been noticed by voyagers; and in the Childe
Harolde
of Lord Byron, it is denominated the “dark blue sea.”
Athenæus relates, that in Samos, the fig-trees, apple-trees, rose-
trees, and vines, bore fruit twice in a year.
rich with tints

Of purple light; the clustering Cyclades

Girt in their rocky zone the Delphic isle

No more oracular, where glowing clouds

Of golden lustre, ting’d with crimson dies,

Canopy pure Parnassus.

――Rosy Rhodes, Note 11.— Line 446. “Rosy Rhodes.” The etymology of Rhodes, has been sought in the Greek word
“Rhodon”, signifying a rose, with which flower that island 18(4)v 212
abounded. The classical traveller, Clarke, observes, “from the
number of appellations it has borne at different periods, it might
at last have received the name of the Polynoman Island. It has
been called Ophiusa, from the number of its serpents; Telchynis;
Corymbria; Trinacria; Æthræa, from its cloudless sky; Asteria,
because at a distance its figure appears like that of a star; Poessa;
Atabyria; Oloessa; Macaria, and Pelagia. Some are of opinion
that Rhodes was first peopled by the descendants of Dodanim, the
fourth son of Javan. Both the Septuagint and Samaritan translation
of the Pentateuch, instead of Dodanium use Rodonim; and
by this appellation the Greeks always distinguished the Rhodians.”

No longer by its proud Colossus mark’d

Stretch’d its triangular scale, as if to catch

Those golden show’rs Note 12.— Line 449. “Those golden showers which testified the loveOf ardent Phœbus.” The exuberant fertility of the soil of this island gave occasion
to those fables embellished by the poets, of golden showers which
they pretended to have fallen upon it. They feigned also a story of
the love of Phœbus for Rhodes, and asserted it to have been an uninhabitable
marsh, until it was loved by him, and drawn from the
waters by his powerful influence. But now, under Turkish oppression,
the island no longer merits the appellation of “fortunate”; and
the golden showers of fiction, are changed to the iron influence of
tyranny and desolation.
which testified the love

Of ardent Phœbus; while the Cretan vales

Cloth’d with their fruitage fair the awful base

Of that stern mountain, boastful of the birth

Of Jove the Thunderer.

Towards the setting Sun

Their course they bend, when, ploughing o’er the deep

Her transverse path with heavy laden keel,

A ship they spy, whose waving colours spoke

5(2)r 51

Of haughty Venice. Hasting they prepare

For naval combat. Decks are clear’d, light sails

Furl’d, lest their playful wantonness impede

Decisive action, while those engines dire

Which flash destruction o’er the echoing wave,

Unlash’d are levell’d, and from their deep vents

The tompions drawn. Inspir’d with warlike joy

The soul of Smith rush’d to his eagle eye,

Darting unwonted lightnings. Every spot

He seem’d to traverse; now, in grave debate

Consulting with the Master, how to pour

With best effect their battery on the foe;

Now, gliding o’er the deck with watchful glance

Of keen insepction; now, into the souls

Of wondering Frenchmen pouring that proud zeal

Which nerves a British tar. Thus the bold king,

Harry of Monmouth, cheer’d his doubting troops

For Agincourt’s dread field; with his gay smile

Inspiring courage, brightening the wan brow

Of Apprehension, while his valorous heart

Impatient chode the interrupting night

Which “like a foul and ugly witch did limp

So lazily away.” Short space was here

In this wild contest on the briny plain

5(2)v 52

For courtesy or signal of attack:

The volleying broadsides deal Destruction’s blast,

Life fled in purple streams, but still the wrath

Of Man subsided not. The shivering masts,

And sides transpierc’d, witness in fearful wounds

The strife of human passions, when they war

And yield not.

From the Gallic ship, a band

Forth sally, bright their boarding axes shine

Through sable wreaths of smoke, while they essay

With vigorous action to ascend the deck

Of the Venetian. Clamorous blows resound

And shouts outrageous, till the invaders, hurl’d

Back from their slippery footing, darkly plunge

Beneath the redd’ning element. Yet see!

Another band, unaw’d by Danger’s front,

Dare the same fate, with desperate ardour fir’d,

And o’er the bowsprit rushing to the deck,

Wade through their comrade’s blood.

How can I paint

The features of that scene? My pencil shrinks

From dies so deep! Oh! ’twas a fearful sight

To souls who love not carnage, to behold

God’s image in the human form so marr’d,

5(3)r 53

And his blest work defac’d. The deed was done,

The hoarse, terrific din of battle o’er,

But many a gallant man, whose warm lip p our’d

Impetuous words to urge the contest on,

Saw not the victory, nor heard the shout

When Venice struck to France. O’er the smooth wave

Her trackless course the victor ship pursued;

Not quite unscath’d; but, as the knight, return’d

From tournament, heeds not his batter’d helm,

And sever’d cuirass, nor the puny wounds

That goad his side, since ever in his mind

The vivid image of his unhors’d foe

Banishes pain and loss. The exulting crew

Boastful in garrulous joy, incessant trac’d

Their chart of conquest, emulous to meet

A second enemy. But the lone youth,

Whose changeful fortunes we pursue, oft sigh’d

For sweet release from durance on the wave,

And like a landman pin’d, whene’er he thought

Of the pure verdure, and salubrious breeze,

And busy haunts, where answering voices blend

In cheering echo. Him at lenghtth they sent,

In feeble boat to that delightful shore

Which spread a refuge for the Hero’s toil,

5* 5(3)v 54

Who from Troy’s flame, wild ocean’s adverse surge

And Juno’s harsh inexorable hate

Scap’d through long wanderings.

Glad th’ enfranchis’d youth

Mark’d the rough line of that peninsular coast,

Enraptur’d revell’d in the firm support

Of Earth, his mother, and once more beheld

Her brilliant garments, and alluring fruits,

With joy unutterable. Soon his course

In eager speed toward Rome’s imperial seat

He pointed; for in boyhood’s brightest hour

Thither, on Fancy’s pinion, had he flown

To search and question Cesar’s sepulchre:

And thither now, half doubting, as if dreams

Involv’d him in their tissue, he arriv’d.

With reverence gaz’d he on the Queen of earth,

Who in the mouldering of her gorgeous robes,

And ancient diadem, still rose in pomp

Of dread magnificence. His rapt eye saw

In warrior vision, when with sceptred pride,

Seated upon her seven-hill’d throne, she cast

The rays of her dominion on the wings

Of the unresting Sun, and bade them reach

All realms that saw his light. With pausing step

5(4)r 55

Alone he wander’d, ’mid those mighty wrecks

Which Man had consecrated, but old Time

Respected not, and bade the unsightly weed

And slimy snail deface. Anon he mark’d

Strong massy fabricks, on whose fronts sublime

Dwelt hoar Antiquity, ruling the wrath

And spoil of ages. There unnumber’d fanes

Tower’d in the gracefulness of modern skill,

Where cluster’d columns rear’d their cornice fair,

And fretted architrave, th’ Ionic chaste,

Time-honour’d Doric, or Corinthian rich,

Or simple Tuscan. The admiring youth

Mark’d with a gaze intense of wondering awe

Vespasian’s Coliseum, where, the Goth Note 13.— Line 563. “Vespasian’s Coliseum, where the Goth,—Stood in amazement.” The Coliseum, sometimes called the Flavian amphitheatre, was
commenced by Flavius Vespasian, in the year 007272, but finished by
Titus, who employed upon it such of the Jews, as were brought in
slavery to Rome. This vast structure was viewed with wonder by
the Gothic conquerors; and the venerable Bede records a proverbial
expression of the pilgrims of the north, by which in the 0701 < x < 08008th
century
they testified their admiration: “As long as the Coliseum
stands, will Rome stand, when the Coliseum falls, Rome must fall,
and with Rome, the world shall fall.”

Who led his barbarous legions to the spoil

Of the despis’d magnificence of Rome,

Stood in amazement――

That Ellipsis vast

Reveal’d the hand of Titus, who resum’d

The work his dying sire left unfulfill’d.

From those arcades, those pillars that embrace

Within their pond’rous and wide-stretching grasp

That spacious ampitheatre, erst rose,

As from the Egyptian house of bondage, sighs

5(4)v 56

Of captive Israel, labouring and oppress’d;

Though no deliverer, call’d by Heaven, came forth

From his rush cradle on the turbid stream

To break their yoke. Still might the eye recall

Through mist of gath’ring ages, through the wreck

Of Devastation’s wantonness, Note 14.— Line 578. “—through the wreckOf Devastation’s wantonness.” Notwithstanding the Coliseum had in various instances been the subject
of dilapidation, had furnished stone for the construction of the Farnese
Palace
, by Michael Angelo, and had even been thrown open as a
common quarry, in the 1301 < x < 140014th century, for the use of the multitude, yet in
the middle of the 1501 < x < 160016th century, its exterior circumference of 1612 feet
still remained inviolate, and a triple elevation of fourscore arches was preserved,
rising to the height of 108 feet.
that spot

Where the pavilion, with its purple pomp, Note 15.— Line 579. “Where the pavilion with its purple pomp.” Persons of the highest dignity had places assigned to them in a part of
the ampitheatre called the Podium, near the centre of which was the
Imperial Pavilion, lined with silk, and embellished in the most splendid
manner.

And proud, imperial blazonry, enshrin’d

The dignity of Rome; still might it mark

The Cunei, Note 16.— Line 582. “The Cunei, dividing with strict carePatrician from Plebeian.” The Cunei distinguished the seats appointed for the different classes of
the people, so that every one might be conducted to the place allotted, by
the laws of the ampitheatre, to his respective rank. The strictest attention
was exercised, lest any might obtain a dignity of station to which he
was not entitled; and the Cunei were under the direction of officers called
Locarii, while the general care of the Coliseum was entrusted to the
grand Villicus amphitheatri.
dividing with strict care

Patrician from Plebeian, even in sports

Whose baseness levell’d all to the same rank

Of degradation, weighing jealously

Each vain distinction; there might still be trac’d

The radiatory passages, where throng’d

Crown’d Emperors, and savage beasts, and men

Abject as they; and there stood gaping wide

Those Vomitories, Note 17.— Line 590. “Those Vomitories, whence the noisy crowdIssu’d abrupt.” The entrances to the passages and stair-cases were styled Vomitories;
and the crowd passing through them to witness favourite exhibitions was
immense. Justus Lipsius asserts, that the Coliseum was capable of accommodating
87,000 spectators on benches; and Fontana added 22,000
for the galleries, stair-cases, and passages. On the ground plan, the exterior 18(5)v 214
surface of the ellipsis covered a superficies of 246,661 feet, (more
than five and a half acres,) and consisted of eighty arches, opening into a
spacious double corridor, from whence radiated eighty passages and staircases,
leading either to two inner corridors, to the arena, or to the galleries.
whence the noisy crowd

Issu’d abrupt. Swept by winds of Heaven

Was that vast structure, open to the wrath

Of raging elements; no more was rear’d

The spreading Velum’s Note 18.— Line 594. “The spreading Velum’s gorgeous canopy.” At the summit of the Flavian amphitheatre was a sixth story, or rather
floor, appropriated to those who managed the Velum, which was an awning
of various colours, occasionally stretched to protect the audience from
rain, or the heat of the sun, and which, by means of cords and pullies,
could be extended or withdrawn at pleasure.
gorgeous canopy

To shelter from the solar beam, or storm

Those pitiless throngs, deep gazing on the scenes

5(5)r 57

Of inhumanity. There, with vigorous arm

And rigid muscles, nerv’d to utmost strength

By uncomplaining Agony, wild wrath,

Undaunted courage, or intense despair,

Fought the stern Gladiators: Note 19.— Line 601. “Fought the stern Gladiators.” The combats of Gladiators, were early exhibited at Rome, and the
people became so strongly attached to these entertainments, that the emperors
found it polite to indulge their barbarous taste. Julius Cæser,
during his ædileship, gratified the populace with combats between 320 pair
of gladiators; and Gordian, before the imperial purple was conferred upon
him, gave those shows twelve times in a year, in some of which 500
couple were engaged. Titus exhibited a show of gladiators, wild beasts,
and representations of sea-fights upon the Coliseum, which lasted 100
days, and Trajan continued an exhibition of the same nature during one
third of a year, in the course of which he brought out 10,000 gladiators.
The masters, by whom these miserable combatants were instructed in the
science of defence, forced them to swear that they would fight till death,
and if they displayed cowardice, they were made to expire by fire, sword,
or whips, unless the voice of the emperor, or the people, gave them life.
stung to rage,

The lordly Lion, the mad Elephant,

The foaming Tyger, the Hyena fierce,

Baffled the hunter’s skill, or madly rush’d

Upon his spear, champing with bloody jaws

The murderous weapon. And alas! how oft

Drank that Arena’s dust the peaceful tide

Flowing from christian veins, when strong in faith

Those holy victims, pouring forth pure pray’rs

For persecuting foes, were given a prey

To monster’s teeth.

There thou didst yield thy breath,

Ignatius, mitred prelate of that church,

Which first Note 20.— Line 613. “Which first upon its sacred banner boreThe name of Christ.” “The disciples were first called Christians at Antioch.”INTERNAL ERROR. Please report to wwp@neu.edu that regMe is unmatched.Acts xi.
26.
Ignatius was the second bishop of this church, and, according to
Eusebius, succeeded Euodius, near the close of the 0001 < x < 0100first century after the
death of Christ. He suffered martyrdom in the amphitheatre at Rome, 18(6)r 215
during the persecution of Trajan; and was venerated, even among his foes,
for his years and piety.
upon its sacred banner bore

The name of Christ. Full on thy rapt ear pour’d

The melody of heaven, Note 21.— Line 615. “Full on thy right ear pour’dThe melody of Heaven.” Ignatius was the first who introduced antiphonal singing among the
churches of the East, which, according to Socrates, the ecclesiastical historian,
he first learnt from a vision, in which the glorified spirits of heaven
appeared, singing in alternate meaasures, hymns of praise to the Everlasting
Trinity.
where the blest choir

With harp and voice, in high alternate swell

Hymn’d the Eternal, till thy tranced soul

Wrapt in extatic vision, scorn’d the bounds

Of Earth’s low confine. But a martyr’s doom

5(5)v 58

Awaited thy decline; and thou didst meet

Its pangs, rejoicing that thy sould should haste

To its reward, while high devotion’s pray’r

Ascended for the parricides who rent

Thy feeble span. Methinks the Lions pause

In their career. Did thine uplifted eye

Intently fix’d on Heaven imbibe new beams

Of awful lustre, till brute Instinct shrank

To mar that kneeling form, and clot with blood

Those silver locks?

Yet there was Beauty’s eye,

Gazing unmov’d upon the ghastly wound,

And gasping bosom; hearts, which should have been

At every scene of woe, as liquid balm

Distill’d in Pity’s heavenly dew, grew hard,

Grew obdurate as the flame-temper’d steel,

Till female softness turn’d her exile foot

From pagan Rome――

Sick’ning at thoughts like these

The youth with fond enthusiasm rush’d to seek

Trajan’s fair victor column, where it rear’d

Its tow’ring shaft, pure as the snows that crown

The Alpine heights. Its pedestal display’d

Four birds of Jove, depending from whose beaks

5(6)r 59

In rich luxuriance flow’d the laurel wreath,

And ah! so well those polish’d leaflets twin’d

Their slender fibres, with so light a grace

Ruffled the Eaglet’s plumage, that the art

Of bold Apollodorus seem’d to have taught

The cold and steadfast marble how to vie

With nature’s life and beauty. There the youth

Knelt in low reverence, while in ardent tone

Burst forth his homage from unconscious lips—

“Awful and glorious Man! at whose dread name

Trembled far distant realms, while haughty Rome

Wove it with stars into her diadem,

Gem of her pride, and bond of loyalty.

Subjected Dacia felt thy vengeful sword,

Assyria was thy suppliant, the arm’d throngs

Of wide Armenia, the infuriate hordes

From Mesopotamian mountains, and the tribes

Barbarous and rude, from where the Euxine roars

To the vex’d Caspian, bent with vassal awe 660

Th’ imploring glance on thee. Thy curb controul’d Note 22.— Line 661. “Thy curb controul’dThe tossing Danube.” Trajan, in the year 0104104, constructed a bridge over the Danube, which
was long admired as a relic of antiquity. After his conquest of Assyria,
he descended the Tigris with his fleet, and had the honour of being both
the first and the last Roman general who navigated the Indian Ocean.

The tossing Danube, and with force sublime

Treading the trackless deep, thy lofty prow

First to old Ocean’s angry billows taught

Rome’s will to reign.”

5(6)v 60

Ling’ring o’er Trajan’s fame

In contemplation deep, the abstracted youth

Hung with a soldier’s rapture; then with eye

Dazzled and dimm’d by countless monuments

That mark the lost illustrious, he explor’d

The arch of Titus, Note 23.— Line 670. “The arch of Titus, rich with victoriesO’er humbled Judah.” The arch of Titus is of the composite order, and represents upon its
frieze his conquest of Judea, a delineation of the river Jordan, with the
captives who attended his triumph, and the spoil and sacred utensils from
the desolated temple.
rich with victories

O’er humbled Judah. There with sinuous trace

O’er the fair sculpture, rapid Jordan rov’d,

While on its banks the weeping captives throng’d,

With heads declin’d. And there were sacred spoils

Scatter’d in careless triumph, the high trump

Whose silver sound warn’d to the Jubilee,

The golden Candlestick, whose wreathed branch

Fed with pure oil, shed o’er the sancutary

Unsullied light, the table consecrate

To the shew-bread, which none but holy hands

Might touch unsinning, the mysterious ark,

The fearful tables of the Eternal Law,

The sacrificial altar, ah! what pangs

Wrung thee, deserted Zion, when these spoils

Were won by Rome. Thy broken, ruin’d towers,

Thy reeking stones, thy city furrow’d deep

By Desolation’s ploughshare, the dire cross,

Stern sword, gaunt Famine, sated with thy sons,

6(1)r 61

And that majestic, dedicated dome,

The temple of Jehovah, given to feed

The Gentile flame, and thy weak remnant made

A hissing, an astonishment, a taunt

To every nation; how these countless woes,

Immeasurable as th’ unfathom’d sea,

Announce thy guilt, and verify the truth

Of Him who cannot err; and will they not,

Oh! thou afflicted, tempest-tost, despis’d

And reft of comfort, will they not at length

Ope thy blind eye to Him, whom didst pierce

And crucify, that thou mitght’st mourn and live?

Who with a traveller’s eye can search the bounds

Of Rome, nor pause to muse upon the tomb

Of Adrian, asking the insensate winds,

How they can winnow as unhallow’d dust

Its consecrated glory? Who can shun

To gaze upon the lofty column rear’d

To pious Antonius, by the hand

Of good Aurelius, sharer of his fame

Virtue and dignity, who early wise Note 24.— Line 709. “—who early wiseLearnt with a philosophic sway to quellThe passions’ mutiny.” Marcus Aurelius Antoninus, who erected the celebrated Antonine
column
, to the memory of Antoninus Pius, made such great and early
proficiency in his studies, that at the age of twelve years he assumed the
philosophical gown. With the gravity of a philosopher he blended no
severity, but continued virtuous without pride, and gave without melancholy.
Such was the enthusiasm of his gratitude to those who had aided 18(6)v 216
him in the pursuits of knowledge, that he kept their images of gold in his
domestic chapel, and offered garlands of flowers at their tombs.

Learnt with a philosophic sway to quell

The passions’ mutiny. Ev’n hoary Time

Reveres that fabric, and commands the years

6 6(1)v 62

That in their revolution blindly wield

Destruction’s besom, and exulting stamp

Oblivion’s seal, to spare that marble spire

Its simple beauty, nor to rend the pile

Which bears the second Numa’s spotless fame.

Half sunk in Earth, the wanderer trac’d his arch

Who on fair Albion’s isle resign’d his breath,

Septimius Severus.

――Dark with throngs

Of flying Parthians, was its scroll sublime;

But gathering ages, dense with mouldering dust,

Obscur’d the Hero’s emblem, with keen touch

Corroding what the impotence of Man

Pronounc’d immortal. With a statelier front,

Just where the dark base of the Cælian Mount

Confronts the Palatine, tower’d the white arch

Of the blest christian Emperor, Constantine, Note 25.— Line 728. “—the blest christian Emperor Constantine.” The splendid reign of Constantine, when the Church past from a state
of suffering to one of comparative power, when she was appointed to
“arise from the dust, and put on her beautiful garments,” is well known
to every reader of ecclesiastical history. Among the triumphs of Christianity
which shed lustre on the annals of this prosperous prince, may be
numbered the prohibition of the barbarous spectacles of gladiators, which
was decreed by him in the East, on the 0325-10-01first of October 325, and by
Theodoric in the West, about the year 0500500.

Who bade the sword of persecution cease

To vex the bleeding church. There paus’d the youth,

Reviewing the recorded tints that glow’d

Of memory’s tablet; for his soul was proud

To bold communion with the awful shades

Of Emperors, and warriors, and stern Chiefs

Who rul’d the rage of battle. With less joy

6(2)r 63

Gaz’d he upon the fountains, sumptuous squares,

Rich palaces, majestic obelisks;

Beheld the vaunted Vatican display

Its pomp of painting, and time-honour’d scrolls

Innumerable; and even with slighter touch

Of strong emotion, mark’d that Basilick

Rising in deep and dread magnificence,

Beneath whose lofty dome pale Awe turns cold,

Offering a while, her trembling consciousness

Upon Devotion’s altar.

Yet not long

Might spirit so active be content to dwell

Amid the tombs and mouldering monuments

Of buried glory. The hoarse blast of War

Kindling its ardour to the thrill of Joy,

Warn’d it away.

To throng’d Vienna’s bound

The soldier went, for there were martial sounds,

Mustering of mighty men, shrill trumpets’ blast,

Hoarse clang of armour, neigh of prancing steed,

Where brave Count Meldrich gallantly review’d

His gather’d legions. Strongly reinforc’d

By Transylvania’s Duke, their blended aim

Against the Turk was destin’d, he who holds

6(2)v 64

In cruel thraldom, those delightful plains

Where ancient Greece her band illustrious rear’d

Of heroes and of sages.

There thy sword

Still glitters, Ypsilante!—May it deal

To the oppressor, justice, like the brand

Of mighty Scanderberg! Note 26.— Line 763. “—like the brand
Of mighty Scanderberg.”
The interesting scene of modern Greece contending with her oppressors,
for her ancient birthright, and her long-trampled liberty, leads the mind
back to the noble exploits of Scanderberg the Great, Prince of Albania.
He was sent, when young, as a hostage to Amurath II. by his father,
who held his territory in subjection to the Turkish government. Here
he received the best education consistent with the Mahometan system,
and so early distinguished himself for courage and military ability, that
he received the command of a body of troops, at the age of eighteen.
The death of his father in 14321432, filled him with an unconquerable desire
to redeem his native principality from Turkish thraldom. Attending the
Mahometan army into Hungary, he entered into an alliance with the celebrated
Huniades, king of that country, and soon after began to contend
for the liberties of Albania. After many years of warfare with Mahomet
II.
the successor of Amurath, he established his dominion, and compelled
his foes to propose conditions of peace. His invincible courage was acknowledged
throughout Europe; and in him the spirit of the ancient
heroes and conquerors of Greece seems to have been revived. He died at the
age of 63, and from that period Albania has been the subject of Turkish
oppression. Even foes were constrained to pay homage to the valour and
greatness of Scanderberg, and when they besieged Lissa, the place of his 19(1)r 217
sepulchre, they disinterred his bones, and had them set in silver, viewing
them as precious relics and powerful amulets.
he who beheld

The sad Albanian weeping in his hut,

Saw from his famish’d babes the morsel torn

By stern rapacity, and nerv’d his arm

For righteous vengeance. Prince! Be Him thy guide

Who crown’d with victory Judah’s prayerful King,

When the swarth Ethiops, and fierce Lubims came

Like lions, in their insolence to wreck

The shepherd’s fold. Oh! is there not a time

In His eternal counsels, who doth break

The Tyrant’s yoke, when the sword-planted faith

Of Mecca’s dark imposter from its root

Shall perish? when the desolating rod

Of the vile Painim, shall no longer bruise

Earth’s fairest climes? Behold it darkly press

The realm belov’d of Science, where her eye,

First waking from its cradle slumbers, scann’d

A globe benighted; see it crush the race

6(3)r 65

Whom Xerxes might not conquer, where the arts

Like quenchless stars, their constellation wreath’d

Round laurell’d Liberty: and lo! it threats

The Holy Land, like that portentous star

In the red skies o’er Zion’s ’leagur’d height,

When Rome’s dire Eagles hasted to their meat.

It subjugates that land, once bright illum’d

By blest Salvation’s day-star, by the eye

Of priests and prophets, by the glowing wings

Of angel visitants, by the dread robe

Of the Eternal: hallow’d by the steps

Of Him of Nazareth, as forth he went

Seeking the lost, where palm-crown’d Olivet

Responded in low murmurs to his sigh

Of midnight pray’r, where sad Gethsemane

Receiv’d affrighted on her humid soil

The dews of agony, and Calvary

Bowing beneath the awful wrath of Heaven,

Shook to her inmost centre, at the voice

“Father! forgive!”

But now the kindling war

Assum’d a front of horrour. Siege on siege

Baffled the Turk’s endurance, and confirm’d

The Christian courage. Fortified in vain,

6* 6(3)v 66

Alba-Regalis, Note 27.— Line 804. “Alba-Regalis and Olumpagh fellShaming the Moslem.” “During the sieges of Olumpagh, and Alba-Regalis, young Smith was
the projector of stratagems, and the conductor of certain modes of attack,
which manifested an unusual talent for the art of war, and rendered the
most essential services to the Christain cause. The command of a horse,
and the rank of first major, were conferred on him, as an acknowledgement
of his high desert.”
Biography of Capt. Smith.
and Olumpagh fell,

Shaming the Moslem. Mid the warrior band,

Who by undaunted bravery, or skill

In varying strategem, serv’d to sustain

The rising fortunes of the Christian arms

Smith stood conspicuous, while around his brow

The hard won laurels cluster’d.

――Once, a siege

Protracted long, inflated with base pride

The renegade garrison. Then forth

From those invested walls, there proudly came

A haughty champion, as in older time

Philistia sent her giant to defy

The host of Israel. With insulting taunt

Rang his loud challenge; and amid the swords

That from their scabbards started to avenge

The holy cross aspers’d, the boon was given

To the exulting youth, whose fate we trace.

The contest came, and proudly on his lance

Bears he his country’s honour. From the height

Of giddy rampart, thousand sunny eyes

Of ardent beauty, thousand helmed brows

Bend anxious o’er th’ arena.

6(4)r 67

Rang’d around

Upon the brow of an opposing hill

In moony crescet stretch’d the bands of Christ,

While many a silent, interceding pray’r

Invokes the God of battles. The bold youth,

Whose burnish’d armour glitter’d in the ray

Of the resplendent Sun, while sable plumes

Like a dark cloud wav’d o’er his polish’d helm,

A second Hector seem’d. Strongly he reins

His fiery courser, and with spear in rest

Awaits his foe. He comes, and furious wrath,

Mingled with scorn, inspires him, as he hurls,

His dark defiance.

The loud trumpet blast

Breathes the appointed signal. They advance,

They meet as ligtning, and the unhors’d Turk

Rolls in his hearts-blood. From the ramparts rose

A howl of horrour when that champion fell,

As the hoarse watch-dog, in his vigil drear,

Bays the cold moon. But hast’ning to the field

Another foe appears. Towering and strong,

Like mighty Ajax; his red eye-ball dealt

Bitter derision, as Goliath scowl’d

Upon the stripling David. Strictly curb’d

6(4)v 68

His mighty war-horse, with indignant rage,

Foams at restraint, ejects the wreathed smoke

From his spread nostril, and with armed hoof

Spurns the rent ground. They meet in fatal shock,

Their steeds recoil! God nerves the Christian’s arm,

And on the earth the mail’d Colossus lay

Gnashing his teeth in death. The victor rode

Unhurt the dread arena: but, behold!

A third appears. Less furious than the last,

Yet more tremendous than the first, he rears

His front of hatred, while his measur’d step

Wary he rules, watchful, but yet serene

As cautious Fabius. Almost it might seem

As if those fallen foes, dissatisfied

To die but once, had risen, and blent in him

Their various lineaments, pleas’d to create

A worse antagonist. On either side

Hung tremulous expectancy, o’er those

Who watch’d the combat.—

Thus stood ancient Rome,

And haughty Alba, with such gaze intense,

Breathless, and leaning on th’ ensanguin’d spear,

When rose the last Horatius, in the blood

Of his two weltering brothers, to confront

The twin Curiatii.—

6(5)r 69

Gallantly they met

At word of herald, but with careful eye

Adjusting the career, and with firm hand

Guiding the spear shock. Lo! the Turkish steed

Plunges without his rider, and a groan

Bursts from the city’s height, responded long

In fitful shrillness, like the female wail

Over some favourite knight, whom minstrels style

The flower of chivalry. The deed was done.

The prize of conquest gain’d. No other foe

Again would dare that fatal tournament,

Nor e’en the insatiate soul of Mahomet

Could longer parley. Loud the shrill-ton’d trump

In pomp of chivalry announc’d the youth

Thrice victor; tears and acclamations greet

His glad return, while honours and rewards Note 28.— Line 886. “—while honours and rewardsWhelm him in rich profusion.” Smith, at his return from this eventful tournament, was attended by
6000 men at arms to the pavilion of the general, where he received the
most flattering reception, and was presented with a noble war-horse, richly
caparisoned, and a scimitar and belt of great value. The Duke of Transylvania
gave him his own miniature set in gold, accompanied with the
kindest expressions of regard, and issued letters patent of nobility, giving
him for his arms three Turks’ heads, emblazoned on a shield. These
were afterwards recorded in the herald’s office in England, and became
the permanent arms of Smith and his descendants.

Whelm him in rich profusion. Ah! but Man,

Brief Man, when in the spring-tide of his Fame,

Oft sees the ebbing flood forsake those sands

Wher Joy had spread her sail; oft hears the blast

Awake against his glory, and disperse

The light ephemeron. From heaps of slain,

In dark, disastrous hour the youth is drawn, Note 29.— Line 893. “From heaps of slainIn dark disastrous hour the youth is drawnHalf lifeless.” This was at the unfortunate engagement of Rottenton, in 16021602, when
the carnage of the Christian army was very extensive. Smith was left
on the field among the dead, but the pillagers perceiving that he still
breathed, and supposing from the elegance of his armour, that his ransom
would be ample, took great pains to restore his life. After this was
effected, and no one sought his redemption, he was sold at auction with
other prisoners, and purchased by a bashaw, as a present to his mistress,
a lady of distinguished beauty.

Half lifeless, pierc’d with wounds, while foeman’s care

6(5)v 70

Solicits his revival, and preserves

Existence, reft of Liberty.

At length

Restor’d, he tastes of Slavery’s bitter dregs,

And with revolting heart beholds the domes

Of high Constantinople, thither sent

A Bashaw’s present to his lady love,

The fair Charitza. He with patient care,

Wrought in her beauteous garden, propp’d the trees

Laden with fruit, twin’d the luxuriant vines

Round fairy arches, cheer’d the imprison’d birds,

Or bore fresh water to the thirsty flowers.

Him, at his toil, the maiden oft observ’d

From her high lattice, where the fragrant gale

Murmur’d through painted vases; oft admir’d

His noble mien, and manly, graceful form,

With partial eye. And often would she muse

And wonder, if in his dear native land,

A mother he had left, a sister fond,

To weep for him, or if a stronger tie

Binding the heart-strings, forc’d some maid to pine

At his long absence. Then her plaintive lute

With thrilling softness she would touch, and wake

Some simple strain of captive youth, who won,

6(6)r 71

His Lady’s heart, and how the lovers fled

A father’s frown, to some green isle of rest

Gay with perennial roses. Then her glance

Would rest upon the youth, whose features beam’d

With lustre, which the cloud of slavery

Strove vainly to eclipse, and she would sigh

She knew not wherefore; then indignant, wish

That he were not a Christian, and retire,

Perchance, to dream of him.

But other bonds

Than those of dalliance, were ordain’d to bind

His lofty soul. Driv’n from the beauteous shades Note 30.— Line 928. “Driven from the beauteous shades.” The partiality of Charitza exciting the jealousy of her mother, Smith
was sent into Tartary, to her brother, the timor-bashaw of Nalbrits, on
the Palus Mœotis.

Where soft Charitza render’d durance light,

He bends a vassal to the lordly sway

Of her stern brother. Here he learnt the toils

That wait the slave; contemptuous, bitter Scorn,

Unceasign Labour, and the gloomy waste

Of rifled Hope. Oppression’s galling chain

Wrought no despair, but urged th’ indignant soul

To vengeful madness. When the tyrant’s wrath

Heap’d insolence with outrage, his bold hand

Aveng’d it in his blood, Note 31.— Line 938. “When the tyrant’s wrathHeap’d insolence with outrage, his bold handAveng’d it in his blood.” Smith, exasperated by the personal brutalities of his master, struck
him dead with a threshing bat, in his barn, about a league from his mansion.
Burying the body beneath the straw, he arrayed himself in the
clothes of the dead bashaw, mounted his horse, and with only a knapsack
of corn for his subsistence, fled for three days with the utmost precipitation
through the deserts of Circassia. Accidentally finding the main road to
Muscovy, he travelled upon it 16 days, under the greatest pressure of
hunger and fatigue, until he reached a garrison on the Russian frontier,
where he found a safe refuge and a cordial welcome.
as Moses’ zeal

Slew mocking Egypt’s supercilious son,

And bid him in the sand. The flying youth,

6(6)v 72

An apprehensive fugitive, the prey

Of meagre Famine, rov’d Circassian wilds,

Nor dar’d ev’n with a trembling voice to hail

His blood-bought Liberty, till in the walls

Of Russia’s frontier, he receiv’d the hand

Of pitying Friendship. Then, as if on wings

With which the liberated bird ascends

The trackless fields of ether, he survey’d

Europe’s exhaustless stores, Note 32.— Line 949. “—he survey’dEurope’s exhaustless stores.” After taking a range through various countries of Asia and Europe,
he met at Leipsic his faithful patron, the Duke of Transylvania, who
presented him with 1500 ducats to repair his decaying finances, and furnished
him with letters of recommendation, setting forth his military services.
He then took an extensive circuit through Germany, France and
Spain. He passed also into Africa, and was allured, says his biographer,
“by the rumours of war, and the native affinity of his mind for dangers,
to spend some time at the court of Morocco.”
This must have been at
the period of those competitions for the sovereignty which succeeded the
death of Muley Achmet in 16031603, and which were finally decided by the
succession of his youngest son, Muley Sidon, who reigned until the year
16301630.
and o’er the sea

When once like Jonah he had been cast forth

To the wild fury of the elements,

Gliding with prosperous gales, explor’d the coast

Of fruitful Barbary. There ’mid fragrant groves

Where glides the zephyr’s wing, with sweets surcharg’d,

The wily Arab, the dark-minded Moor,

Unpitying Turk, and persecuted Jew,

Roam in wild hordes, unconscious of the charms

That Nature spreads around; as the dull swine

Heeds not the trodden pearl. Westward he prest,

Over Mulluvian waters, whose fair banks

Fring’d with the rose-bay on its graceful stern Note 33.— Line 961. “Fring’d with the rose-bay on its graceful stem.” The Nereum Oleander, a beautiful tree, delighting in moist situations,
adorns the margin of the Mulluvia, a considerable river, which rises in
Mount Atlas, and pursues its course to the Mediterranean, partly dividing
Algiers from Morocco.

Glitter’d in varying beauty. There he saw

Shelter’d by hoary Atlas, ’mid cool groves

Of lofty palm, Morocco’s scatter’d mosques

7(1)r 73

With snowy minarets, her princes’ homes,

Painted pavilions like the gold-streak’d even,

Shaming the low and wretched huts where herd

The abject people. There, devoid of state

Crown or regalia, sits the Emperor

Upon his barbe, and ’neath the simple shade

Of his umbrella, holds his Meshoar, Note 34.— Line 971. “—’neath the simple shadeOf his umbrella, holds his Meshooar.” In the empire of Morocco, there is no code of laws, but the will of a
despotic monarch disposes of wealth, liberty, opinion, or existence, without
appeal. Wherever he happens to be, he grants public audience four
times a week, for the distribution of justice, sitting on horseback, while a
groom holds an umbrella over his head. This the Moors call holding
the Meshooar; though there is also a place in the city of Morocco
distinctively styled “the Meshooar,” because devoted to these audiences.
It is surrounded by walls, and situated between the old palace and the
magnificent pavilions erected by Sidi Mahomet.

Dooming his crimeless vassals with the tone

Of lawless despotism.

But the youth sigh’d

For climes of liberty, and turning sought

That which the foot of Slavery may not press

Ere her sad spirit hears a heavenly voice

Exclaim, “Be free!” and her loos’d manacles

Vanish, as fell imprison’d Peter’s chain

Before the Angel. The capricious sea

Again he woos, to view that native land.

The winds were peaceful, but the wrath of man

Troubled the waters. Fearful engines breathe

Forth from their dark, cylindric chambers, blast

Of thundering terror o’er the ignited wave.

Twice had the Sun his flaming coursers quench’d,

And lav’d his gold locks ere he sought his rest,

Yet still the deep foundations of the main

7 7(1)v 74

Echoed those battle thunders. Note 35.— Line 988. “Yet still the deep foundations of the mainEchod those battle thunders.” Smith returned to his native country by the way of France, and in his
passage across the channel in a French galley, was in a desperate conflict
with two Spanish ships of war, which continued nearly three days, and
terminated in the discomfiture of the Spaniards.
Haply scap’d

He sees white Albion’s cliffs their welcome beam

Upon his eye, and revels in the bowers

Of his soft infancy. The rapturous joy,

That hail’d his glad arrival, past, he breaks

The transient dream of rest, and bold embarks

A hardy pioneer to this New World, Note 36.— Line 994. “A hardy pioneer to this New World,Hewing out danger’s path.” Capt. Smith was one of the original company to which James I. under
the date of 1606-04-10April 10th, 1606, granted letters patent for the colonization
of America. He was appointed to a seat in the first council of what was
then denominated the South Colony, and though he met with the opposition
which envy testifies to superior merit, he was afterwards elected
president of that body. He embarked with his associates from England, 19(2)v 220
with Capt. Grosnold, on the 1606-12-1919th of December 1606, but did not arrive
on the coast of Virginia, until past the middle of the succeeding spring.

Hewing out danger’s path. With watchful eye

Ev’n as a father shields the son he loves,

He nurs’d the infant colony, which hung

In deathful hesitancy, and with care

Shelter’d that vine, which in the wilderness

The cold storm threaten’d.

――But the rugged brow

Of Chieftains frown’d upon him, for his wiles

Perplex’d their own. Baffled at length, and foil’d

In stratagem, he tastes the captive’s lot,

And borne in triumph sees the royal tent

Of Worowocomoco. There enthron’d

Sat great Powhatan. Note 37.— Line 1006. “There enthron’d
Sat great Powhatan.”
The Indian monarch at this audience was seated on a throne somewhat
resembling a bedstead, clothed in a flowing robe composed of the skins of
the Racoon, with a fanciful coronet of feathers upon his head. His residence
was at Worowocomoco, and his sway not only extensive but imperial,
in the true signification of the term; for he exercised dominion over thirty
tributary kings.
Flowing robes array’d

His form, and a bright coronet of plumes

Wav’d o’er his brow. Upon his features sat

A native majesty, uncheck’d by age

Which knew of no infirmity, and seem’d

7(2)r 75

Well to befit the high imperial lord

Of thirty subject kings. Around him rang’d

His chiefs in solemn council, while their eyes

Bent darkly on the earth, seem’d to portend

An ominous doom. But still the prisoner read

Nought like stern hatred on those thoughtful brows

That ponder’d o’er his fate.

――On the green turf

They spread a table, generously heap’d

With all their choicest viands; the fair haunch

Of savory venison, victims from the flood,

And from the air, and fresh from hasting hands

The juicy corn-cake. No such kind repast

In gentle friendship heralded thy death,

Poor Ugolino. Note 38.— Line 1024. “No such kind repastIn gentle friendship, heralded thy death,Poor Ugolino.” The death of Count Ugolino and his sons, by hunger, in the prison of
Pisa, during the contest of the Guelphs and Ghibellines, at the close of
the 1201 < x < 1300thirteenth century, furnished a subject for one of the most striking historical
pictures of Sir Joshua Reynolds, and is described by Dante in his
Inferno, with great poetical energy. “Dreams wak’d me ere the dawn, when in their sleep I heard my children groan, and call for bread, Oh cruel! should no pity touch thy soul To think how much a father’s heart presag’d? If now thou shedd’st no tears, what have thy eyes Been us’d to weep at? Now my boys awoke: The hour arriv’d, when each expected food, As wonted, would be brought him; but his heart Mistrusted, when each thought upon his dream, And I—oh horrible! that instant heard The dungeon’s iron doors more firmly lock’d; In desperate silence on my sons I gaz’d, I could not weep—my breast was turn’d to stone. The little victims wept, and one began, 19(3)r 221 (My dear Anselmo,) ‘Father! why that look! What ails my Father?’ Ah! I could not weep, Nor answer all that day, nor yet that night, Till on the world another morn arose. As faintly through our doleful prison gleam’d The tremulous ray, so I could view again Each face, on which my features were imprest, Both hands I gnaw’d in agony and rage. Sweet innocents! They thought me hunger-strung, And rising on a sudden, all exclaim’d, ‘Father! our anguish would be less severe If thou would’st feed on us. This fleshly vest Thou didst bestow; now take it back again.’ I check’d my inward nature, lest my groans Should aggravate their anguish. All were mute That bitter day, and all the morrow. Earth! Why didst thou not obdurate earth! dispart? The fourth and sad morning came, when at my feet My Gando fell extended. ‘Help, he cried, Canst thou not help me, father?’ and expir’d. Thus wither’d as thou see’st me, one by one I saw my children ere the sixth morn, die. Then seiz’d with sudden blindness, on my knees I grop’d among them, calling each by name For three days after they were dead. At length Famine and death clos’d up the scene of woe.”
Thou didst frantic grope

Amid thy famish’d sons, till thou couldst hear

No more those moving skeletons implore

For water and for bread; and when those lips

Hunger had seal’d forever, thou didst live

Writhing in burning pangs, day after day

Of untold misery, till Mercy broke

The long protracted, agonizing thread

That held thee from the grave.

7(2)v 76

――With courteous care

These sons of Nature gave the parting rite

Of hospitality, and gaily strove

The prisoner to sustain the festive hour

With cheerful voice. But as the phantom guest

Marr’d Mackbeth’s banquet, so the morsel fail’d

To gratify the sense, and bitter dregs

From the sweet draught clave to the victim’s lip,

For on his soul the ghastly visage glar’d

Of beck’ning Death. The fatal feast was o’er:

And to his doom the pinion’d captive led.

Yet no exulting shout, no taunting hiss

Broke on the deep solemnity; it seem’d

A deed of stern, reluctant policy,

Averting evil, not avenging hate.

Heroic Andre! Thou, perchance didst fall

Amid such sadness; for the bursting sigh

Of sympathy, from strangers and from foes,

Bore tribute to thy virtues, and deplor’d

Thine ignominious fate.

But now are rear’d

Four massy clubs, high o’er the victims head,

While the grim warriors, with averted face

Await the signal. One brief interval

7(3)r 77

Of anguish’d thought convuls’d the sufferer’s mind:

That all his honours, all his high designs,

All his ambition’s concentrated hopes

Must end by savage hands. Pride stamp’d her seal

Of cold reluctance, on a brow unblanch’d

By fear of Death. To fall in laurell’d fields

Mid shouts of victory, as heroes die,

Seem’d enviable glory. ’Mid the throng

That gaz’d in silence on the prostrate foe,

As if half doubtful whether death had power

O’er him like others, one young, timid maid Note 39.— Line 1065. “—one young timid maidSat near the throne.” The Princess Pocahontas, in many instances, besides the rescue of
Capt. Smith, signified a firm friendship for the English colony. From
famine and secret conspiracy, she was more than once the instrument of
deliverance. “Oft times,” says Capt. Smith, in his history of Virginia, 19* 19(3)v 222
“in the utmost of my extremities, hath that blessed Pocahontas, the daughter
of the great king of Virginia, saved my life.”
With the heroic magnanimity
of a noble soul, she united the softness and tenderness of the
feminine character. Yet notwithstanding all her arts of disinterested
kindness to the English, she was treacherously decoyed by them on board
one of their vessels, and carried to Jamestown. Still their sense of honour
moved them to treat her with all that respect which her correct deportment
and high rank deserved.
“The motive to this step,” says Judge Marshall, in his Life of Washington,
“was a hope, that the protection of Pocahontas would give the
English an ascendancy over Powhatan, her father, who was known to
dote on her. In this, however, they were disappointed. Powhatan
offered first, corn, then friendship, if they would immediately restore his
daughter, but refused to come to any terms until that reparation was
made for what he resented as an act of treachery. During the detention
of the Princess at Jamestown, she made an impression on the heart of
Mr. Rolfe, a young gentleman of estimation in the colony, who also succeeded
in gaining her affections. They were married with the consent of
Powhatan, who by this event was entirely reconciled to the English, and
ever after continued their sincere friend.”
After the arrival of Pocahontas
in England, with her husband, a petition was addressed in her behalf
to Queen Anne, by Capt. Smith, bearing the date of 1616-06June 1616, in the
course of which he mentions, “Being taken prisoner by the power of
Powhatan, I received from this great savage exceeding great courtesy,
especially from his son Nantaquas, the manliest, comeliest, boldest spirit
that I ever saw in an Indian, and this sister Pocahontas, the king’s most
dear and well-beloved daughter, whose compassionate, pitiful heart of my
desperate estate, gave me much cause to respect her. I being the first
Christian that this proud king and his grim attendants ever saw, and thus
enthralled in their barbarous power, I cannot say that I ever felt the least
occasion of want, which was in the power of these my mortal foes to prevent.
After some six weeks falling under these savage courtiers, at the
moment of my own execution, she hazarded the beating out of her own
brains to save mine, and the Nantaquas so prevailed with his father, that
I was safely conducted to Jamestown, where I found about 38 miserable,
poor and sick creatures, to keep possession for all those large territories of 19(4)r 223
Virginia. Such was the weakness of this poor commonwealth, that had
not the Indians fed us, we directly had starved. And this relief, most
gracious Queen, was commonly brought us by the Lady Pocahontas, who,
notwithstanding all the changes when inconstant fortune turned our peace
into war, would not spare to dare to visit us; and by her our jars have
been often appeased, and our wants still supplied. When her father, with the
utmost of his policy and power, sought to suprize me, having but eighteen
with me, the dark night could not affright her from adventuring through
the darksome woods, and with tearful eyes giving me the intelligence,
with her best advice how to escape his fury, which had the king known he
had surely slain her. She, under God, was the instrument to preserve
this colony from death, famine, and utter confusion: for if in those times
it had been once dissolved, Virginia might have lain unto this day, as it
was at our arrival.”
The age of Pocahontas, at the time of her saving the life of Capt.
Smith
, is usually fixed at thirteen years, though Mr. Davis, in a note to
his song of the Angel of the Wild, represents her as a child of only
eleven years. As this poetical effusion happily displays the tender sensibility
of that noble heroine, it is extracted as a close to this note.
“The Angel of the Wild. ‘Sunt lachrymæ.’Virg. Now blazes bright the wigwam-hall, The plumed Chiefs are circled wide, Above the crowd with lordly call Sits Powhatan, in frowning pride. The captive Smith, in bonds is brought, His head reclines upon a stone, The fatal club of Death is sought, While tawny maids his fate bemoan. When lo! with scream of anguish loud, A tender child, in gorgeous vest, Runs to the stranger through the crowd, And kneeling, clasps him to her breast. See, see her arms around him twin’d, And hear her pour the piteous wail; As if for hopeless love she pin’d, 19(4)v 224 Her tresses loose, her dear cheek pale. ‘Stay, stay the club! exclaims the king, And hush the white man’s dire alarms.’ Then rushing through the shouting ring He strains his daughter in his arms. Fair Spirit! nurs’d in forest wild, Whence caught thy breast those sacred flames That mark thee Mercy’s meekest child Beyond proud Europe’s tilted dames. Scalps and war-weapons met thy gaze, And trophies wove in blood-stain’d wreath, Thy birth-star was the funeral blaze, Thy lullaby the song of death. But Pity sought thee in the wild, Invisible, thy cradle rock’d, Seraphic Love his offerings pil’d And heavenly graces round thee flock’d.”

Sat near the throne. Soft tears of Pity wound

Their copious course, and her imploring hands

Unconsciously she rais’d tow’rd him who seem’d

Her sire, but from those trembling lips no sound

Gain’d utterance. At length the trance of Fear

Vanish’d, and from those dove-like eyes shone forth

A dazzling spirit. That meek child, who seem’d

To shrink as the Mimosa, now evinc’d

More than a warrior’s daring. Like the winds,

Rushing in wildness tow’rd th’ imprison’d foe,

His head she clasp’d.

“Now let the death-stroke fall!

Boldly she cried, for ere it reach that head

7* 7(3)v 78

This shall be crush’d.” The warriors’ uprais’d arm,

For execution bar’d in vigorous strength

Unconsciously declin’d, and deep respect

Ev’n for a child, wander’d with soft’ning trace

O’er their hard features. That unwonted sight

The monarch could not brook; his soul was mov’d

To mark his daughter’s bearing, and he bade

To loose the prisoner’s bonds, and loud exclaim’d,

“Rise! and be free.”

Thus thou the royal maid

Of swarthy Egypt, through thy pitying heart

Didst save a humbled nation. Thou didst hear,

An infant wailing in his slimy ark,

’Mid the green rushes on the river’s brink,

And hadst compassion. Ah! how slightly deem’d

Thy haughty father, that his palace proud

Nurtur’d the Hebrews’ hope: as little thought

The Indian Monarch, that his child’s weak arm

Fostered that colony, whose rising light

Should quench his own forever. Thus a flower,

Nurs’d in the forest, shed its healing balm

Upon our wounded sires. Shrinking they felt

The serpent’s venom, and this noble plant

Solac’d and sav’d them. By the grateful hand

7(4)r 79

Of fond Refinement gather’d, on the breast

Of Piety it hung, and meekly drank

The breath of fairer climes: but early shed

Its withering bloom in peace. What though this flower

A giddy world might scorn, because its leaves

The sun had darken’d, what if her proud glance

Saw in its form nor grace nor comeliness;

Might not its incense rise as pure to Him

Who weigheth spirits?

The unbidden tear

Rushing, Oh! Indian Princess, o’er thy grave

Effac’d my theme a moment, turn’d my eye

From those tall ships that land their ceaseless freight

On the new coast. I see our ancestors,

A thoughtful band, escaping from the frown

Of a hard parent. Resolute they seem,

Though sad of heart; while their exploring eye

Wanders o’er Plymouth’s beach, and thickets dark,

All tenantless. A feeble light they struck

On a cold shore, and oft its livid spire

Trembling and narowing, like a lance’s point

Seem’d to expire; but still a viewless breath

Would fan and feed it, though loud torrents fell

And the wild desert howl’d.

7(4)v 80

Do I behold

The men of peace approach, with smile serene,

Reaching the hand of amity, to greet

The Indians as their brethren? Meek they stand,

And weaponless, save with the shield of truth

And equity. How from their leader’s eye

Beams the calm lustre of an upright soul,

Brighten’d by pure benevolence, as shines

The Queen of Heaven upon the lunar bow.

Firm as th’ Athenian sage, to whom the scenes

Of life or death, the dazzling pomp of wealth,

Or hemlock draught were equal, is the port

Of the Colonial Sire, the Friend of Man,

While with the diamond seal of Truth he stamps

His oathless treaty. Note 40.— Line 1137. “While with the diamond seal of truth he stampsHis oathless treaty.” Clarkson, in his life of William Penn, describes the manner in which
his great treaty with the Indians was confirmed, in the year 16821682. “The
religious principles of Penn,”
says his biographer, “which led him to the
practice of the most scrupulous morality, did not permit him to look upon
the king’s patent, or legal possession according to the laws of England,
as sufficient to establish his right to the country, without purchasing it by
fair and open bargain of the natives, to whom it properly belonged. He
had instructed commissioners who arrived in America before him, to buy
it of the latter, and to make with them a treaty of eternal friendship.
This, those commissioners had done, and now, by mutual agreement between
him and the Indian chiefs, it was to be solemnly ratified. He proceeded,
therefore, accompanied by his friends, consisting of men, women,
and young persons of both sexes, to Coaquannoc, the Indian name for
the place where Philadelphia now stands. On his arrival, he found the
sachems and their tribes assembling. They were seen through the woods, 19(5)r 225
as far as the eye could reach, and looked frightfully both on account of
their number and their arms. The Quakers are reported to have been
but a handful in comparison, and without any weapon; so that dismay and
terror must have seized them, had they not confided in the righteousness
of their cause. It is much to be regretted, when we have accounts of
minor treaties, between William Penn and the Indians, that no historian
has any particular detail of this, though so many mention it, and all concur
in considering it the most glorious day of any in the annals of the world.
There are, however, relations in Indian speeches, and traditions in Quaker
families, descended from those who were present on the occasion, from
which we may learn something concerning it. It appears that though the
parties were to assemble at Coaquannoc, the treaty was made a little
higher up, at Shackamaxon. Upon this site, Kensington now stands,
the houses of which may be considered as the suburbs of Philadelphia.
There was at Shackamaxon, an elm tree of a prodigious size. To this,
the leaders on both sides repaired, approaching each other under its widely-
spreading branches. William Penn appeared in his usual dress. He
had neither crown, sceptre, mace, sword, halberd, or any insignia of eminence.
He was distinguished only by wearing a sky-blue sash round his
waist, made of silk net-work, and of no larger dimension than an officer’s
military sash, which, except in colour, it resembled. On his right hand
was Col. Markham, his secretary and relative; on his left, his friend
Pierson, followed by the train of Quakers. Before him were carried various
articles of mechandize, which, when they came near the Sachems,
were spread upon the ground. He held a roll of parchment, containing
the confirmation of the treaty of purchase and amity, in his hand. One
of the Sachems, who was the chief of them, then put upon his own head
a kind of chaplet, in which appeared a small horn. This, according to
scripture language, and among the primitive eastern nations, was an emblem
of kingly power; and whenever the Chief who had a right to wear
it, put it on, it was understood that the place was made sacred, and the
persons of all present inviolable. Upon putting on this horn, all the Indians
threw down their bows and arrows, seating themselves round their
Chiefs, in the form of a half moon upon the ground. The principal
Sachem then announced to William Penn, by the aid of an interpreter,
that the nations were ready to hear him. He then said, that the Great 19(5)v 226
Spirit, who made him and them, who ruled the heavens and the earth,
and was acquainted with the innermost thoughts of man, knew that he
and his friends had a hearty desire to live in peace and friendship with
them, and serve them to the utmost of their power. It was not their
custom to use hostile weapons against their fellow-creatures, therefore,
came they to this treaty unarmed. Their object was not to do injury,
and thus provoke the Great Spirit, but to do good. They had met them
on the broad path-way of good faith and good will, so that no advantage
was to be taken on either side, but all was to be openness, brotherhood
and love. After these and other words, he unrolled the parchment, and
by means of the same interpreter, conveyed to them, article by article,
the conditions of the purchase, and the words of the contract then made
for their eternal union. Among other things, they were not to be molested
in their lawful pursuits, even in the territory they had alienated, for
it was to be common to them, as well as to the English. They were to
have the same liberty to do all things therein, relating to the improvement
of their grounds, and providing sustenance for their families, which
the English had. If any dispute should arise between the two, it should
be settled by twelve persons, half of whom should be English, and half
Indians. He then paid them for the land, and made them many presents
besides, from the merchandize which was spread before them. Having
done this, he laid the roll of parchment on the ground, observing again,
that the ground should be common to both people. He then added, that
he would not do like the inhabitants of Maryland, that is, call them only
children or brothers; for parents were sometimes unkind to their children,
and brothers would often differ; neither would he compare the friendship
between them to a chain, which the rain might rust, or a tree fall upon
and break; but he should consider them as the same flesh and blood with
the Christians, the same as if a man’s body was to be divided into two
parts. Taking up the parchment, he then presented it to the Sachem
who wore the horn in his chaplet, and desired him and the other Sachems
to preserve it carefully for three generations, that their children might
know what had passed between them, when they were no longer living to
repeat it. It is to be regretted that the speeches of the Indians, on this
memorable day, have not come down to us. It is only known that they
solemnly pledged themselves, according to the manner of their country, 19(6)r 227
to live in love with William Penn and his children as long as the sun and
moon should endure. Thus ended this famous treaty, of which more has
been said in the way of praise, than of any other ever transmitted to posterity.”
To the commendation which the biographer of the Man of Peace bestows
on this honourable transaction, we add the concise eulogium of
Voltaire, who pronounced it to be “the only treaty which was ratified
without an oath, and the only one which was never broken.”
Well might he who sigh’d

A fugitive Note 41.— Line 1138. “Well might he who sigh’dA fugitive from his paternal homeFeel for the outcast.” Admiral Penn, being greatly displeased at his son’s adoption of religious
principles of an unpopular class, and which would preclude his preferment
at court, treated him with severity, and twice indignantly sent
him from the shelter of the paternal roof, but was eventually softened by
his meekness and consistency of deportment, into reconciliation and the
renewal of affection.
from his paternal home,

Feel for the outcast; as sad Israel learnt

In sultry Egypt’s tyrant clime, to know

The stranger’s heart. With kind, assuring words,

And answering deeds, he binds the deathless chain

Of friendship; and though o’er his silent grave,

Time long hath wander’d, still at the blest name

Of the beloved Miquon, Note 42.— Line 1145. “Still at the blest nameOf the beloved Miquon, starts the tearOf Indian gratitude.” Heckewelder observes, that “never will the tribe of the Delawares
forget their elder brother Miquon, as they affectionately and respectfully
call him. ‘The great and good Miquon came to us,’ they say, ‘bringing
the words of peace and of good will.’
When they were told the
meaning of the name of Penn, they translated it into their own language
by Miquon, which means a feather or quill. The Iroquois also called
him Onas, which in their idiom signifies the same thing.”
Heckewelder,
1st volume.
starts the tear

Of Indian gratitude.

7(5)r 81

Firm in his path

Trod his disciples, faithful as the race

Of Rechab, note 43.— Line 1148. “—faithful as the raceOf Rechab to their dying Sire’s command.” The commendations bestowed on the Rechabites, in the INTERNAL ERROR. Please report to wwp@neu.edu that regMe is unmatched.35th chapter
of the prophet Jeremiah
, for their strict obedience to the injunctions of a 19(6)v 228
departed father, might be in a degree applied to the followers of William
Penn
, for their inflexible adherence to his precepts with regard to our
aborigines. Considered too, generally, by the other settlers, either as
foes to be exterminated, or vassals to be oppressed, they received from
these mild colonists the charities of brethren. Pennsylvania, rising on
the basis of fair and open purchase, unpolluted by injustice, or persecution
of the natives, in her institutions acknowledged their allodial right to the
soil, and has ever been preserved from those desolating wars, which distressed
the infancy of many of our territories, and threatened to destroy
their existence.
to their pious sire’s command,

To shun the inflaming draught. What though their faith

Sternness might persecute, or Scorn deride,

Flow’d it not from His accents who forbade

The vengeful deed? did it not harmonize

With His pure life, who gave his patient check

To the harsh smiters, and before his foes

Stood as the guileless Lamb? Comported not

Its precepts with the spirit of that Friend

Of wretched man, whose advent melody,

Whose intercession, and whose dying gift,

Alike were peace? And when his glorious reign

O’er Earth commences, when the shock of war,

The din of discord vanish, who shall lead

With purer joy, in reconciling bands

The Lion and the Lamb, than those who dwelt

An unresisting, unoffending race,

Calm, ’mid a boist’rous world? Are not the souls

Who flee from evil, violence, and strife,

Obtaining preparation for that clime

Where evil entereth not, nor woe nor pain,

For all is rest?

7(5)v 81

Long had the natives drawn,

From the full store-house of the Christian’s sins

Weapons against his faith. Long had they heard

A language from his lips, which by his life

Was contradicted. Long, too long inquir’d,

Of a perfidious race, ye, who command

Us, Indians, to observe the righteous rule

Which ye transgress, by breaking that just law,

Dishonour ye not God? But here they mourn’d

Nor fraud, nor wrong; the purchas’d land they gave,

Unstain’d with blood, and on its borders dwelt,

As with their brethren. Soon that province rose

To wealth and power, while on the verdant banks

Of rolling Delaware, in beauteous state,

Love’s city smiled.

Quick o’er the ample bound,

From those broad lakes, dark with eternal rain,

To the bright bow’rs where sleepless summer sports

With rosy Florida; and pressing west

O’er the vain barrier, and retreating tide

Of Mississippi, spread our ancestors,

Taking a goodly portion, with their sword,

And with their bow. But whether the rich soil

Peaceful was gain’d, or snatch’d in hostile wrath,

7(6)r 83

The natives suffer’d. Slow diseases came,

And swept them like the insect tribes away,

Before the ev’ning blast. Intemperance

Destroy’d her tens of thousands; Famine flawed-reproduction1-letterern

Leagued with the pestilence, and in their path

The mortal scorn, and hatred of white men

Stalk’d, gleaning what was left.

――Ah! could’st thou rise

From thy dark bed of waters, wretched Chief!

Unhappy Orellana! Note 44.— Line 1200. “—wretched Chief!Unhappy Orellana.” Orellana was chief of a powerful tribe in the neighbourhood of Buenos
Ayres
. With ten of his followers he was seized, and treacherously conveyed
on board a Spanish ship, which, with a large crew of Spaniards,
and a number of English and Portugeuse prisoners, set sail from the
mouth of the river La Plata, in the month of 1745-11November 1745.
what a scene

Could’st thou unfold! From thy wide, fearless range

O’er woods and mountains, by the mighty tide

Of vast La Plata, from the subject vows

Of thine adoring tribe, from charities

Of kindred and of country, from the bonds

That to the heart’s deep centre link the names

Of husband and of father, wert thou torn

By Spanish cruelty. The tall ship moves

From the dear strand, and the red-straining eyes

Of thy enslav’d companions, glare to thine

Unutterable things. Incessant wrongs Note 45.— Line 1211. “Incessant wrongsHarrow thy lofty spirit.” The Spaniards treated the Indians with great insolence and barbarity.
It was common for the meanest officers in the ship to beat them most
cruelly, and one of them, a very brutal fellow, ordered Orellano aloft, a
service which he knew he was incapable of performing, and under pretence
of disobedience beat him with such violence as to leave him bleeding on
the deck, stupified with bruises and wounds. Orellana and his followers
bore these outrages without complaint, but they were secretly meditating
revenge on their oppressors.

Harrow thy lofty spirit, the red scourge

Brandish’d by menial insolence, drinks oft

Thy blood, but haughtily comprest, thy lip

7(6)v 84

Deigns no complaint. Humbled beneath the brute,

Thy high soul bends not, rising o’er its pangs,

Invincible; though oft a burning tear

Would start, to mark the accumulated wrongs

That crush’d thy faithful followers. ’Twas night!

And Silence leagued with rayless Darkness rul’d

The slumbering wave. What rends the startled ear

With wounding clamour, rousing from their cells

La Plata’s sons, as if the angel’s trump

Had warn’d the grave’s cold tenants? ’Tis the cry

Of Orellana’s vengeance. Ah! what strews

The decks with slain, and bids the purple tide

To flow, as from a wine-press? ’Tis the arm

Of Orellana. See him tow’ring stand,

With throng distain’d, Note 46.— Line 1229 “With throng distain’d.” Previous to their bold attempt, the Chief, and his companions in
wretchedness, had secretly employed their leisure in cutting throngs from
raw hides, and in fitting to each extremity of them the double headed shot 20(1)r 229
of the small quarter-deck guns. These, when swung around their heads,
according to the custom of their country, were a dangerous weapon, in
the use of which the natives of Buenos Ayres are trained from their infancy,
and consequently very expert.
as erst on Lehi’s sands

Vindictive Sampson o’er Philistia’s sons

Slaughter’d in heaps, the dying and the dead,

His simple weapon rear’d. The coward crew

Fly in wild terror, for the soul of guilt

Is dastardly. The gallant Chieftain call’d

His victor-band around him. None were lost:

The ten stood faithful, while beneath enclos’d Note 47.— Line 1236. “beneath enclos’d,Hundreds of pale oppressors shudd’ring cower’d.” The crew consisted of nearly 500 men, and the ship mounted 66 guns.
That an Indian Chief, with only ten followers, ignorant of nautical management,
unacquainted with the use of fire-arms, and unable to procure
any weapon, except the knives used for their food, and the throngs already
described, should be able to lay 40 Spaniards at their feet, and so to intimidate
a formidable crew of more than 40 times their number, as to
keep uninterrupted possession of the ship for two hours, and then that
they should be attacked merely by shot fired at random through the cabin
doors, and other crevices, by disciplined men who feared to approach them,
is a fact without parallel in the pages of history.

Hundreds of pale oppressor’s shudd’ring cower’d,

In midnight darkness. But the tide of Fate,

8(1)r 85

Returns with whelming surge. To thee is giv’n,

A glorious conquest, Chieftain! but the torch

Of triumph lights thy miserable tomb.

They come from durance, but they dare not meet

The conqueror’s glance. Not to the deck they rush,

Where reck their lifeless comrades, but conceal’d

In ambush dark, from clefts and crevices,

Aim at the foe. The fatal lead is sent

In ceaseless show’rs, and every moment wings

Destruction’s shaft. Brave Orellana scorns

The dastard vengeance, and with glance that speaks

The dark contempt of a majestic soul,

Wrapping itself in death, he plunges deep

In Ocean’s breast. His followers by his side,

Dare the same fate, counting the pitiless wave

More merciful than Man.

――Oh! ye who feel

Strong tides of sympathy convulse the soul,

When crush’d Messenia against Sparta rose,

To rend oppression’s yoke, have ye no tear

For Orellana? Have ye not a sigh

For that sad race, of whose despairing lot

His was an emblem?

8 8(1)v 86

Yet amid the gloom,

Long strove their ancient Genius, struggling still

For life, and liberty, though awful Fate

Drew on the darkest hour. Like some tall form

Tow’ring in strength, against the storm he rear’d

His front reproachfully. The tempest came,

Strange thunders bellow’d, flashing meteors blaz’d

And hollow voices on the troubled blast

Warn’d him away. To the cold cliffs he hied,

That overhung the waters; but the surge

Tossing and raving, rear’d its haughty crest

Red with his children’s blood. Groaning he sought

His island home, where as in Paradise,

The vales were wont to blossom, and the birds

Warble at his approach. There Ruin swept

With murderous besom, Tyranny the scourge

Plied ceaseless, and his high, indignant heart

Swell’d, as he rush’d to combat. But the dart

Hissing, from subtle Treachery’s hand, transfix’d

His throbbing breast. The serpent’s hideous coil

Twin’d round his bow’rs of bliss. Fainting, he twin’d

To his last refuge, to the stormy throne

Of cloud-encircled Andes, whose proud glance

O’erlooks the misty globe. But peace nor rest

8(2)r 87

Awaited him; from yawning chasms burst forth

Volcanic flames, and with their livid spires

Wreath’d round his tortur’d frame.

Beneath his feet

The marble summits cleft, and with the strife

Of warring elements, and rending rocks

Mingled his death-groans. Pitying Nature wept,

As the vex’d spirit of bold Freedom left

His favour’d home; and his forsaken sons

Fled to the forest, with wild beast to hold

Degraded fellowship. Goaded ev’n there

To desperation, on their foes they turn’d

Like the crush’d adder, spurn’d and impotent,

But spared for longer torments. Yet some beams

Of brightness linger’d round them; some faint trace

Of virtue, and of noble spirit lurk’d

Amid the ruins. Thus thy fallen king,

Assyria! feeding with vile herds, retain’d

Some portion of his dignity, that aw’d

His brute companions. In their lowly path

Renouncing Manhood’s port, he grop’d, with locks

Bare to the dews of heaven, while side by side

An equal lot they shar’d; but if too near

With heads declin’d, they prest, to gaze intent

8(2)v 88

Upon his downcast eye, a flashing glance

Alarm’d the dastard throng, as if from earth

In robes of flame, had risen some frowning shade

Of buried majesty.

8(3)r 89

Canto Third.

Say! who again will listen to the call

Of the returning Muse? who rove with her,

Not in the pomp of Homer, to the fields

Of victor Greece, the conflagrated domes

Of ruin’d Ilion; not by tuneful reed

Of mighty Maro summon’d to the march

Of his majestic hero, nor allur’d

O’er the wide wave in wandering course to roam

With sage Ulysses, nor with joy upborne

On Fancy’s silvery plume, what time she steers

’Tween Truth’s fair region, and the varying clouds

Of wild Romance, tinting with rainbow hue

Roderick, or haughty Marmion, or the throng

Of Caledonia’s monarchs, but with voice

Untun’d by art, climbing with rustic step

Undisciplin’d, the lone and misty cliff

Where mourns the forest Chieftain o’er his race

Banish’d and lost, of whom not one remains

To pour their tears for him. Note 1.— Line 18. “Where mourns the forest Chieftain o’er his race Banish’d and lost, of whom not one remainsTo pour their tears for him.” The following speech of Logan, a Mingo Chief, was given by the late
General John S. Eustace to an intimate friend. He confirmed its authenticity
by the information that it was presented him personally by Lord
Dunmore
, to whom it was uttered by the unfortunate chief, while he held
the station of Governor of Virginia.
“My cabin, since first I had one of my own, has ever been open to
any white man who wanted shelter. My spoils of hunting, since first I
began to range these woods, have I ever freely imparted to appease his
hunger, to clothe his nakedness. But what have I seen? What! but
that at my return at night, laden with spoil, my numerous family lie
bleeding on the ground, by the hand of those who had found my little hut
a certain refuge from the inclement storm, who had eaten my food, who
had covered themselves with my skins! What have I seen? What!
but that those dear little mouths, for which I had toiled the live-long
day, when I returned at eve to fill them, had not one word to thank me
for all that toil!
What could I resolve upon? My blood boiled within me! My
heart leaped to my mouth! Nevertheless, I bid my tomahawk be quiet, 20(2)r 231
and lie at rest for that war, because I thought the great men of your country
sent them not to do it. Not long afterward, some of your men invited
our tribe to cross the river, and bring their venison with them.
They, unsuspicious of evil design, came as they had been invited. The
white men then made them drunk, murdered them, and turned their knives
even against the women.
Was not my own sister among them? Was she not scalped by the
hands of that very man, whom she had taught to escape his enemies,
when they were scenting out his track! What could I resolve upon?
My blood now boiled thrice hotter than before! Thrice again my heart
leaped to my mouth. I bade no longer my tomahawk be quiet, and lie
at rest for that war. I no longer thought that the great men of your
country sent them not to do it. I sprang from my cabin to avenge their
blood, and fully have I done it in this war, by shedding yours from your
coldest to your hottest sun. Thus revenged, I am now for peace. To
peace have I advised most of my countrymen. Nay! what is more, I
have offered, I still offer myself as a victim, being ready to die if their
good require it. Think not that I fear death! I have no relations left
to mourn for me. Logan’s blood runs in no veins but these. I would
nor turn on my heel to escape death. And why should I? for I have
neither wife, nor child, nor sister, to howl for me when I am gone.”
The following version of an Indian Lament, which recently appeared
in the public prints, unaccompanied with the author’s name, expresses
with simplicity and pathos, some of the feelings which characterize
the speech of Logan.
“The black-bird is singing on Michigan’s shore, As sweetly and gaily as ever before; For he knows to his mate be at pleasure can his And the dear little brood she is teaching to fly. The sun looks as ruddy, and rises as bright, And reflects o’er our mountains as beamy a light As it ever reflected, or ever exprest, When my skies were the bluest, my visions most blest, The fox and the panther, both beasts of the night, Retire to their dens at the gleaming of light, And they spring with a free and a sorrowless track, 20(2)v 232 For they know that their mates are expecting them back; Each bird, and each beast, it is blest in degree, All nature is cheerful, is happy, but me. I will go to my tent, and lie down in despair, I will paint me with black, and will sever my hair; I will sit on the shore where the hurricane blows, And reveal to the god of the tempest, my woes: I will weep for a season; by bitterness fed, For my kindred are gone to the hills of the dead; But they fell not by hunger, or lingering decay, The steel of the white man hath swept them away, The snake-skin that once I so sacredly bore, I will toss with disdain to the storm-beaten shore, Its spell I no longer obey or invoke, Its spirit hath left me, its magic is broke. I will raise up my voice to the Source of the Light, I will dream on the wings of the Angels of Night, I will speak with the spirits that whisper in leaves, And that minister balm to the bosom that grieves, I will take a new Manitto, one who shall deign To be kind and propitious to sorrow and pain. Oh! then shall I banish these cankering sighs, And tears shall no longer gush salt from mine eyes, I shall wash from my face every cloud colour’d stain, Red! red! shall alone on my visage remain. I will dig up my hatchet, and bend my oak bow, By night and by day will I follow the foe; No lake shall repress me, no mountain oppose, For blood can alone give my bosom repose. They came to my cabin, when heaven was black, I heard not their coming, I knew not their track, Yet I saw by the glare of their blazing fusees, They were people engender’d beyond the big seas: My wife and my children! oh! spare me the tale. But who is there left who is kin to Geehale?”

8* 8(3)v 90

Ah! who will turn

From Fashion’s pageants, from the bright parterre

Of polish’d Taste, where Poesy her gems

Scatters as dew-drops, from the heights sublime

Of intellectual grandeur, who will deign

With meek Humanity his guide, to trace

Paths where the torch of glory never cast

Its blazonry upon the ample shield

Of proud historic fame! Yet souls there are

Who love their Saviour’s precept to “impart,

Hoping for nought again;” Oh, let these still

Explore the wild, oft snatching as they rove

From cold Oblivion’s caves, memorials frail

Of an unhappy race.

When despot sway

Opprest our country, and with wounded heart,

But soul invincible, the untried sword

In her own right she rais’d, quick from the wild

The natives flocking, join’d her doubtful cause

And struggled with her; pouring forth their blood

To nourish that young tree of Liberty

Whose fruits they might not taste.

Once as they rov’d

In our defence, the hospitable shore

8(4)r 91

Of war-stain’d Delaware, a band they spied

In England’s livery. Their swift arrow fled,

In fatal aim. One British youth alone,

Among the dead, surrounded by his foes

With lifted tomahawks essay’d to sell

His life as Britain, and as Sparta taught

Their sons to hold its price.

Deep silence reign’d

For one dread moment, while those dark, red brows

Bent on the youth, his dauntless port survey’d

With kindling admiration. Thus perchance,

Grim Death hath paus’d, when his menacing shaft

Hung o’er some beauteous victim. But with step

Firm, and reproachful eye, a hoary Chief

Bent his strong bow, and aim’d his weapon’s point

At that lone breast. “God of my youth, forgive!

In silence pray’d the victim; at this hour

Of my extremity, pardon and save

The agonizing soul. Those whom I love

Dearer than life, but must no more behold,

Oh! comfort and protect. Saviour! to thee, 60

My spirit hastes.” ――

Why did that hoary man

Drop the keen shaft, that on its well-strung bow

8(4)v 92

Stood trembling, wing’d for flight? Why rushing grasp

With eager vehemence the captive’s hand

Whose rapt soul, gazing o’er the verge of life,

Had half believ’d its awful voy’ge was past

To dread Eternity. Thus stood the youth

So pale, so death-like on Moriah’s mount,

When from the altar, from the gleaming steel,

From the rais’d death-blow snatch’d, he heard the voice

Save! Save thy son!

――Reluctantly and slow

The haughty band their vanquish’d prey resign’d;

But rankling enmity had learnt to curb

Its bitterness, if he, whose temples bore

Time’s silver crown, commanded; he to whom

A race not savage, who complacent boast

Superior forms of courtesy refin’d

Scarce yield respect. The silent Chieftain led

To his rude cabin, rous’d the slumb’ring flame

To cheerful brightness, spread his couch of skins

To rest the weary one, his simple food

Gave to his hand, observing with kind glance

If fearfully he tasted, oft with smiles

Assuring him, and bending o’er to hold

With anxious tenderness his throbbing head

8(5)r 93

Ev’en as a Father would. Thus, day by day,

And while slow nights with wintry pace held on,

He strove to make his ransom’d guest forget

The prisoner, in the friend. Proudly he led

To the rude chase, exulting as he mark’d

The glowing ardour of that noble soul,

Reckless of danger. When slow Evening drew

Her starry curtains o’er their humble home,

The patient Chieftain taught the barbarous sounds,

And uncouth utterance of his native tongue.

But when some interval of silent pause

Would intervene, when the youth’s soul had flown

Back to his country, to his pictur’d halls,

Retracing scenes of recollected bliss,

Seeking communion with those glowing forms

Which rul’d his heart, the Sire’s dark piercing eye

Read on the varying volume of his brow

The spirit’s changes, till unwonted tears

Stole o’er his furrow’d cheek. These he dismiss’d,

As traitor visitants, prone to reveal

The weakness of the soul, which proudly bade

Her guards to veil her temple, and conceal

The glowing incense she was forc’d to burn

To sensibility. Thus, in his cave,

8(5)v 94

Stern Burby labour’d to condense the tears

Of sorrow-struck Ambition, till he wrought

The forge of madness.

――Well hast thou pourtray’d

His lineaments, O Scott! Say, may we place

Thy name Note 2.— Line 114. “Say, may we placeThy name upon that canvas, which high FameBlazons, but yet inscribes not?” The celebrated Scottish novels, which have excited such uncommon
degrees, both of admiration and curiosity, seem now to be almost generally
referred to the pen of Sir Walter Scott. The strong resemblance
between the poetical works acknowledged to be his, and the productions
by the Author of Waverly, points the inquirer, by a kind of internal
evidence, to the wand of that great Enchanter of the North. Yet to
the public it seems an inexplicable modesty, which should incite an author
to withhold so long his name from works so vivid in description as to annihilate
the barriers of distance, and dispel the mists of time; so patriotic,
that strangers from all nations are led in pilgrimage to Scotland, to do
homage to her lakes, and mountains, and ruined castles, and caverns, as
if some tutelary divinity resided there, so brilliant in fancy, that the lover
of romance prefers them to all that had before captivated him, yet so
faithful to history, that Truth offers them as a guide to the student; so
replete with the knowledge of human nature, that Shakespeare seems to
have revived, and reinstituted his claim to the admiration of remote posterity.
upon that canvas which high Fame

Blazons, but yet inscribes not? Wisdom’s eye

Hangs o’er the vivid painture, and forgets

To frown on Fancy’s work, so strong the hues

Of Knowledge, and the lights of Truth are blent

With the design.

But now advancing Spring,

Threw her fresh beauties o’er the waking Earth.

The primrose pale, the placid snow-drop rose

In loveliness; but stormy still, and dark

Were human passions, and the heart of Man,

Unchang’d by Nature’s gentleness, enshrin’d

The image of dread Strife. The warlike Chief

Sigh’d for the new campaign, from Winter’s rust

Reliev’d his armour, and with joyous tone

Summon’d his young companion to the toil

Of weary march. Through forests deep and dark

O’er many a hill, o’er many a river, swoll’n

With melting snows, they past. At length a cliff

8(6)r 95

Gave sudden to their view, the distant plain

Where England spread her troops. Fair were their tents

As lingering hillocks of untrodden snow

On Spring’s soft verdure. Gay, the fresh’ning breeeze

Play’d ’mid their folds, and bore to that young ear

In mingled symphony of martial sounds

The music of its country. Every joy,

And sport of boyhood, every raptur’d hope

Of early youth, came thronging with the sound,

Came back unchasten’d to his inmost soul,

Raising that quick, convulsive throb, which mocks

All utterance. Still he mark’d not that dark eye

Intently tracing every nameless change

Which Feeling’s pencil, dipt in strongest ties

Press’d on his polish’d brow. At length a voice

Broke the deep trance. “See’st thou thy countrymen

See’st thou our enemies? Proudly they wait

To give us battle. Think! Who sav’d thy life?

Who took thee to his home? Who taught thy hand

Helpless and soft, the firm canoe to build, 151

And guide it o’er the flood? Who shew’d thee first

To snare the dext’rous Beaver, hiding close

In his recess? to aim the arrow’s point,

As sure as death? Thy lips knew not to frame

8(6)v 96

Aught, save the speech of white men; now they pour

In free and manly tone, the sounds sublime

Of our bold language. Say! who shed this light

O’er thy dark mind? But I forbear to urge

The memory of thy debt. I only ask 160

Wilt thou repay with hatred? Wilt thou join

The ranks that waste our country? Wilt thou pierce

This aged breast?”

――Sudden, indignant tears,

Burst ere the answer— “Sacred as my life,

Shall thine be held. The foe who seeks thy heart,

Seeks mine.”

The Chieftain rais’d his clasping hands

To shade his visage, as they onward rov’d;

Hopeless concealment! for his mighty soul,

Wrought up and struggling, spoke through all disguise.

At length his voice in soften’d tones inquir’d,

“Hast thou a father?”――

“Yes. My sire surviv’d,

When from the blest land that gave me birth,

I parted.”

“Ah! how wretched is his heart,

Deeming thee lost! Know’st thou that I was once

A father? that my graceful son attain’d

9(1)r 97

Thy years and stature? Like a lion bold,

He rush’d to war; where darkest danger frown’d

His eye was flashing. But I saw him fall,

Struck down in battle. At my feet he lay,

Cover’d with wounds. He groan’d not, as he died!

My only one! Strong, brave, and beautiful. 181

Yes! like a man he fell; and I, his sire,

Have like a man aveng’d him. Blood has flow’d

T’ atone for his in torrents; and my soul

That sunk with him, in his red, tort’ring wounds

Arose to vengeance.” Deep convulsive sobs

Now check’d his utterance; his keen, restless eye,

Was wild, but tearless, and his spirit strove

To rule its agony, as the worn rock

Battles the stormy wave. Silent they rov’d,

And calmness slowly o’er the mourner’s breast

Settled, like dews upon the heaving earth,

Rent by an inward conflict. Now the dawn

On her grey plumes long-balanc’d, fled away,

And sudden lustre glow’d.

“Dost thou behold

Yon golden orb, and is thy young heart glad

To see it gild the morn?”

9 9(1)v 98

“That beauteous sky,

Rich with prevailing day, Oh! who can view

Without delight?” “I,” said the hoary man,

“Have no delight. See’st thou the heavenward head

Of yon magnolia, with its ample boughs 201

And its pure blossoms? Say, dost thou inhale

Its breathing fragrance?”

“Yes. Nor can I view

That glory of the forest, but my heart

Is full of pleasure.”

“I behold it too;

I gaze upon its charms; but pleasure comes

To this sad heart no more. Go then! Return!

Go to thy father! that his heart may joy

When the sun rises, and the trees put forth

The buds of Spring.”

While with insatiate zeal

The Red Man roam’d the forest, or from floods

Allur’d the finny spoil, the toil-worn hand

Of his more weak companion, wrought to win

In scanty harvest from the tardy earth,

The swelling legume, and that tub’rous root

Which in their clay-built cells, the hardy sons

Of emerald Erin bless. Like modest worth

9(2)r 99

Oft shrouded in a plain and homely garb,

’Neath its rough leaf, and lurid flow’r, it hides

Pale Penury’s blessing. This the New World gave

When in the cradle of her innocence

To haughty Europe, who with curious eye,

As peers the miser at some new-found hoard,

Survey’d the infant stranger, and her gift

Grasp’d as the bane of Famine. note 3.— Line 225. “—and her giftGrasp’d as the bane of Famine.” The potatoe is styled by Mr. Donaldson, “the bread-root of Great-
Britain
and Ireland.”
Writers affirm that it was introduced into the
latter island by Sir Walter Raleigh, about the year 16231623; and that a
vessel laden with it, and wrecked upon the coast of Lancashire, was the
means of dispensing its benefits to England, as the ship of Carthage,
driven upon the strand of Italy, gave a fleet to Rome.
But Sir Joseph Banks, in his communication to the Horticultural Society
of London, states that the potatoe was brought to England from
Virginia, by some colonists sent out by Sir Walter Raleigh, who returned
as early as 15861586. From thence it was soon after conveyed to Ireland, 20* 20(3)v 234
where it was cultivated, and extensively used among the common people,
before the inhabitants of England were fully sensible of its value.
By its side

The fruitful maize, Note 4.— Line 226. “The fruitful maize.” America has the honour both of presenting Europe with the Solanum
Tuberosum, which has so sensibly diminished the ravages of famine within
her bounds, and likewise of furnishing the native soil for a grain remarkable
for its productiveness, and second only to wheat, in the degree of nutriment
it affords to the human frame. According to Marabelli’s analysis
of the Zea Mays, it “contains a saccharine matter of different degrees
of purity, from which alcohol, the oxalic and acetous acids, may be obtained;
a vegetable amylaceous substance, a glutinous substance; muriat
and nitrat of magnesia; carbonats of potast, lime, and magnesia; and
iron.”
in verdant vistas rear’d

Its spire majestic, to the playful breeze

Spreading its loosely-waving panicles, while low

The purple anthers bending o’er to kiss

The silken, tassel’d styles, delight the eye

Of watchful Ceres. Autumn’s earliest call

Demands its treasures, and the caskets pour

Forth from their silver cones, in streams profuse,

The vegetable gold. Its lingering wealth

Spreads in rich tribute at the icy throne

Of that swart form, the licens’d King of storms,

For whose support, soft Spring in tears awakes

The infant germ, bright Summer toiling wastes

Her fervid beauty, and grave Autumn roams

As a tax-gatherer, o’er the vast domain,

Heaping his revenue.

9(2)v 100

While warlike zeal

Nerv’d the bold sons of Nature, as they rush’d

In that red path, where Earth’s proud heroes roll

The car o’er trampled life, with silent step

The softer sex, still unregarded, cull’d

From wild, or fountain side, such plants as aid

The healer’s art. And might they hope to shun

The cup of scorn, because they meekly went

On Mercy’s mission? Does a sapient world,

Ev’n at her noon-tide beam, accord her meed

To the mild race, whose heav’n-taught Science heals

The rankling wound, extracts from stern disease

Its sting, and props frail Man to cope with Death?

No! to the licens’d murd’rer, to the wrath

Of Cesar’s wild ambition, to the scourge

Of bleeding Cambria, ruthless Tamerlane

The Swedish mad-man, and the tyrant son

Of Corsica. When the stern warrior fell,

Writhing in agony, the patient band

Of those despis’d restorers, knew to check

The purple tide, and bind the throbbing chasm

With happy skill. If Fever’s fervid rage

Glow’d in the boiling veins, with care they sought

The firm Diospyros, Note 5.— Line 264. “The firm Diospyros.” The Diospyros Virginiana rises to the height of from fourteen to sixteen
feet, with a wood extremely hard and brittle. It produces a plumb
of about the size of a date, and its bark is useful in intermittent fevers.
The bark of its root has been considered also a tonic, favourable to the
treatment of dropsies.
whose ligneous shield

9(3)r 101

Repels th’ untemper’d weapon; freely urg’d

The cool aperient from the fragrant bark

Of Sassafras; Note 6.— Line 267. “freely urg’dThe cool aperient from the fragrant barkOf Sassafras.” The bark of the Laurus Sassafras is a remedy in intermittents. “Its
oil, also,”
says the late Professor Barton, “has been found efficacious when
externally applied in the case of wens.”
Another plant of the same genus,
the Laurus Benzoin, commonly called Spice Wood, enters extensively into
the materia medica of the natives. A decoration of its twigs is an agreeable
aperient, and in our revolutionary war, when the patriotism of the people
incited them to adopt the productions of their own country in the
place of those foreign luxuries to which they had been accustomed, the
dried and pulverized berries of the Laurus Benzoin were adopted as a
substitute for allspice, as the saccharine juice of the cornstalk has been 20(4)r 235
found to supply the place of molasses, and an infusion of the leaves of
the sage, to supercede the teas of China.
or fresh with balmy dews

Cropp’d the fair bloom with which young Spring adorns

The flow’ring Cornus. Note 7.— Line 269. “Cropp’d the fair bloom with which young Spring adornsThe flow’ring Cornus.” The flowers of the Cornus Florida, or as it is usually called, Dogwood,
appear in the spring, and exhibit a beautiful appearance. Their large and
white involuere form a fine contrast to the forest green, and their hue
becomes gradually more delicate, as if emulous of the purity of snow.
Our natives use an infusion of these flowers to intermittents; and some
of the tribes gave a name to the season of Spring, in allusion to the bloom
of this plant. Its blossoms are succeeded by oblong drupes of a rich crimson
tint, which are sometimes used as a tonic in the form of a spirituous
impregnation, and likewise furnish a favourite food for various species of
birds. Its wood, under the name of New-England box, is held in high
estimation for its durability, and enters into the construction of many
articles both for utility and ornament. But what constitutes its principal
value is the discovery that its inner or cortical bark, promises to be equally valuable with the Peruvian. Indeed, it may be considered superiour, as
being less nauseous to the taste and the stomach, always to be obtained
in abundance, and not liable to the danger of adulteration. The merits
of this substance as a medicine, have been clearly and forcibly displayed by
Dr. Walker of Virginia, in an inaugural dissertation on the comparative
virtues of the Cornus florida, Cornus sericea, and Cinchona officinalis of
Linnæus. After detailing a number of chemical experiments, he remarks:
“A summary recapitulation of these experiments shews, that the
Cornus florida, sericea, and Peruvian bark, possess the same ingredients,
that is, gum, mucilage, and extracts; which last contain the tannin and
gallic acid, though in different proportions. The Florida has most of
the gum mucilage and extracts; the Sericea the next, which appears to
be an intermediate between the Florida and Cinchona; while the latter
possesses most of the resin. Their virtues appear similar, and equal, in
their residence. The extract and resin possess all their active powers.
The extract appears to possess all their tonic powers. The resin, when
perfectly separated from the extract, appears to be purely stimulant; and 20(4)v 5236
probably the tonic powers of the extract are increased when combined with
a portion of the resin, as in the spirituous tincture.”
Dr. Gregg, of Bristol
in Pennsylvania, in a testimony to the merits of the Cornus florida, asserts,
that during a period of 23 years, experience of its virtues had convinced
him, “that it was not inferior to the Peruvian bark in curing intermittents;
nor inferior as a corroborant in all cases of debility.”
Anxiously they sought

The Liriodendron, Note 8.— Line 270. “Anxiously they soughtThe Liriodendron.” The bark of the Liriodendron Tulipifera is considered by some as scarcely
inferior to the Cinchona in the cure of fevers. It has also been classed
among remedies in cases of gout and rheumatism. This fine tree produces
flowers resembling the tulip, beautifully variegated with light green, yellow
and orange, and standing solitary at the extremeties of the branches. The
leaves of this tree have a peculiarly obtuse form, and its young bark is
aromatic.
with its varied bloom,

Orange, and green, and gold; invok’d the pow’r

Of sanguine Cornus, Note 9.— Line 272. “—sanguine Cornus, with its snowy cupAnd sapphire drupe.” The Cornus sericea, or American Red-root cornel, is sometimes called
from the colour of the epidermial covering of its young shoots, the Red-
Willow. It is found in a moist soil, usually by the banks of rivers, and
seldom exceeds the height of ten or twelve feet. Its white flowers appear
in clusters, and are succeeded by a succulent drupe of a blue colour. The
North-Carolinian Indians scrape the inner bark as a substitute for tobacco,
or sometimes use it as an adjunct to that plant. It is considered in medicine
equal to the pale Peruvian bark. “When we consider,” says Dr.
Walker
, “the causes of the various forms of disease which are the endemics
of our country, we cannot but receive additional inducements to
regard the Corni as the most valuable vegetable which Nature, in the
prolificness of her bounty, has scattered through the wide forests of North-
America
. For so long as the mouldering ruins of our swamps, and the
uncultivated conditions of our marshes, shall afford materials for the peccant
operations of an autumnal sun, we shall view with peculiar delight
the virtues of these two vegetables, which inherit the two essential characters 20(5)r 237
of the most valuable division of the materia medica, I mean bitterness
and astringency, to the happy union of which the Corni have a claim as
respectable as that which has procured for the Peruvain bark a celebrity
as extensive as the bounds of rational medicine. Indeed, so striking is
the similitude, so exact the result from comparative trials, that in this attempt
to recommend the Cornus florida and sericea, to the attention of
practising physicians, I cannot even review the forms of disease, in the
particular states of which the Corni are indicated, without encroaching
upon the reputation of the cinchona; for in truth it may be said, that in
whatever form of disease the cinchona has been decidedly serviceable, the
Corni will be found equally so. And if we make allowances for the
chances and inducements to adulteration in the former, for our relationship
to the latter, for its wide extent through the very soil in which are engendered
the seeds of those maladies which their virtues are fitted to remove,
we must acknowledge their superiority. They are like the cinchona, bitter and
astringent in the mouth, tonic and febrifuge in the stomach; and their
chemical analysis affords results perfectly analogous.”
with its snowy cup,

And sapphire drupe, or woo’d thy potent spell,

Magnolia Grandiflora; Note 10.— Line 274. “woo’d thy potent spellMagnolia Grandiflora.” This magnificent tree throws out its large white fragrant blossoms in
July. Its medicinal virtues were familiar to our natives, while they were
accustomed proudly to point it out as the glory of the forest. “The
bark of its root,”
says the late Professor Barton, “is used in Florida, in
combination with the Snake-Root, as a substitute for the Peruvian bark,
in the treatment of intermittent fevers.”
to supply

The place of fam’d Cinchona, whose rough brow

Now ruddy, and anon with paleness mark’d,

Drinks in its native bed, the genial gales

Of mountainous Peru. Debility,

Melting the links of Thought, and blotting out

Life’s purposes, beheld the nerves resume

Their wonted energy, when the pure blood

Of Liquidambar Note 11.— Line 282. “the pure bloodOf Liquidambar.” The Liquidambar Styraciflua is found near the banks of rivulets, tall
and elegantly formed, with leaves of a beautiful lustre. From wounds
made in the trunk of this tree, a fragrant gum exudes, which operates as
a powerful tonic. The Southern natives were in the habit of drying its
leaves to mingle with their tobacco for smoking.
trickling, or the pores

Of the balsamic Populus, Note 12.— Line 283. “—the pores
Of the balsamic Populus.”
“Under the head of general stimulants may be classed the resin of the
Populas balsamifers, called Balsam, or Tacamahaca-tree. This is a native
of North-America and Siberia. The resin is procured from the leaf-
buds. This balsam is so very penetrating, that it communicates its peculiar
smell and taste to the flesh of the birds which feed upon its buds.”

Collection towards a Materia Medica of the United States. By Dr. Benjamin
Smith Barton.
diffus’d

Their cheering tonic.

That unpitying pain

Which plucks the nerves, close-sealing with a frown

Ev’n Beauty’s lip, which the bold Ayrshire bard

Wish’d in his patriot vengeance to entail

9* 9(3)v 102

On Caledonia’s foes, Note 13.— Line 288. “—which the bold Ayrshire bardWish’d in his patriot vengeance to entailOn Caledonia’s foes.” “Oh! thou grim mischief-making chiel Who gar’st the notes of Discord squeel, Till daft mankind aft dance a reel In gore a shoe-thick; Gie a’ the foes of Scotland’s weal, A towmond’s tooth-ache.” Burns’ Works. yielded its rage

To the rough genius of that lofty tree,

Whose yellow armour bears in countless studs

The horrid thorn. Note 14.— Line 291. “—the rough genius of that lofty treeWhose yellow armour bears in countless studsThe horrid thorn.” The botanical genus Xanthoxylum, received its name on account of
the yellow colour of its wood. The species Clava Herculis, which was
used by our Indians in the cure of the Tooth-Ache, is sometimes called
the great prickly Yellow wood. The trunk often grows to the height of
30 or 40 feet, armed with very powerful prickles, which are thick at the
base, and angular and sharp at the point. The leaves are pinnate, and a
foot in length, the foot-stalks armed with strait thorns of a third of an
inch. This is frequently denominated the Tooth-Ache Tree, and its bark
and seed vessels have the property of a powerful stimulant, when taken 20(6)r 239
internally, and have been found useful in cases of Rheumatism. The
medicinal virtues of another species of this plant, the franaxifolium,
were also known to the natives. Lawson remarks, that they extracted
from its berries the salivating power of mercury, and made use of decoctions
of the plant, as strong perspiratives.
Swoln Dropsy, who essays

To inundate life’s citadel, beheld,

As haughty Ocean marks his bound of sand,

A verdant barrier of fresh-gather’d leaves,

Cull’d from an acrid plant Note 15.— Line 295. “A verdant barrier of fresh-gather’d leavesCull’d from an acrid plant.” The Indians of Demarara use the leaves of the Dracontium pertusum
in the treatment of obstinate dropsies. “The body of the patient is covered
with them, and a universal perspiration, or rather vesication induced,
after which the subject often recovers.”
The leaves of this plant are remarkable
for numerous elliptical perforations.
and slow retir’d,

Like the vex’d spring-flood from the wasted earth.

Pleased with their toil, the healers sought the cell,

Where Rhododendron, Note 16.— Line 298. “Where Rhododendron like some drooping maidTimid and beauteous hides her golden locks.” The Rhododendron Chrysanthemum, or golden flowered Rhododendron,
is a beautiful shrub, and of high reputation in the treatment of Chronic
Rheumatism. An infusion of its leaves is both stimulant and narcotic.
It has been celebrated in Russia for the cure of the same disease, and is
procured in Siberia, Kamschatka, and Bherring’s Island.
like some drooping maid,

Timid and beauteous, hides her golden locks;

Or lur’d her statelier sister’s aid, to bribe

Relentless Chronic Rheumatism Note 17.— Line 301. “Or lur’d her statelier sister’s aid to bribeRelentless Chronic Rheumatism.” “The inflorescence of the Rhododendron maximum is almost umbellate;
the blossoms delicately coloured, having the red and white tints of an apple
blossom, while the green and yellow dots on their upper segment are
strikingly conspicuous.”
Of close affinity to the Rhododendron is the
genus Kalmia, of which many species are poisonous. The Kalmia latifolia
was formerly used by those miserable natives who had determined on
suicide. But modern enterprize has successfully enlisted it in the service
of medicine, and it is applied, in a pulverizied form, internally, in fevers,
or topically, for the relief of cutaneous affections.
to loose

The rigid sinew. Then the fetter’d wretch

Strait leap’d and walk’d, as he who ask’d an alms

Of the two chief disciples, while he sat

A lonely cripple at that temple gate,

Styl’d “Beautiful.”

How vivid is the eye

Of bright Lobelia, in her scarlet robe, Note 18.— Line 307. “How vivid is the eyeOf bright Lobelia in her scarlet robe.” The genus is connected by several of its species with the materia
medica. Our natives were well acquainted with this fact, particularly
with the virtues of the blue Lobelia, and the Lobelia inflata, both of which
are lactescent. A decoction of the root of the beautiful Lobelia Cardinalia,
is extensively used by the Cherokees as an anthelmintic.

Yet ’neath that rich and velvet tissue lurks

A potent poison. But the holy art

Of Esculapius, can transmute the bane

9(4)r 103

Of Nature, to her cordial; from the breath

Of livid popies, woo the balm of pain,

The opiate of grief, in Earth’s dark breast

Convert the foes of life to friends, and bind

Reluctant Hydra’s Hygeia’s ear.

Thus, with bold hand, compelling the proud force

Of deadly Hellebore, Note 19.— Line 317. “Thus with bold hand compelling the proud forceOf deadly Hellebore” “In ancient Egypt, the insane were conducted to those temples, in
which were collected whatever seemed calculated to please the eye, and
rivet the attention. There, as they wandered from one magnificent object
to another, the world and its vexations were forgotten, and amid the
deep interest of the scene, the gloomy images which haunted them were
banished from their minds. In Greece, on the other hand, the followers
of Hippocrates relied exclusively on the specific powers of Hellebore and
its adjuvants; medicines which, at this day, are rarely employed.”

Report of a committee of the Medical Society of Connecticut, respecting
an Asylum for the Insane.
the sons of Greece

Propp’d Reason on her throne; and thus that Voice,

Which in its majesty from Chaos call’d

Order and beauty, still in sable clouds

Pavillion’s Mercy, bids the broad-wing’d storm

Disperse dire Pestilence, and those events

Which Man deems evil, work his endless good.

Intent to sooth the restlessness of pain,

Still roam’d the weaker sex. In humid beds,

Or ’neath dense canopies of shade, they sought

Where the May-apple Note 20.— Line 327. “Where the May-Apple loads the pendant boughWith emerald clusters.” The Podophyllum peltatum, generally called the May-Apple, is a
common plant throughout the United States. Its fruit is about the size
of a common plumb, of green colour, and esculent. The leaves are poisonous,
and the root, which is a very active medicine, resembles that of
the black Hellebore.
loads the pendant bough

With emerald clusters; where th’ Asclepias Note 21.— Line 328. “Where th’ Asclepias bowsHer bright, decumbent petals.” The Asclepias decumbens, with flowers of a bright orange-colour, is a
beautiful and frequent ornament of our fields. It has sometimes been
called Pleurisy-Root, from its salutary influence in that disease; and also 21(1)r 241
Butterfly-weed, from the attraction which it appears to possess for this
species of insect. Its root is used in a pulverized form; and the high
opinion entertained of it, by the native tribes, seems to be confirmed by
the testimony of some of our scientific medical practitioners.
bows

Her bright, decumbent petals; where entwin’d

With parasitic clasp, embow’ring blooms

The fair Convolvulus, Note 22.— Line 331. “—where, embow’ring bloomsThe fair Convolvulus, gleaming with tintsOf purple lustre.” Among the extensive genus Convolvolus, the panduratus is distinguished
for its medicinal powers. It produces large white flowers, whose bases
are deeply tinged with a fine purple. Its root is used either in powder,
or decoction; and from it the southern Indians gain their Mechameck
or wild Rhubarb. From another species of Convolvolus an extract,
resembling Scammomy, is obtained.
gleaming with tints

Of purple lustre; or the Cassia Note 23.— Line 332. “or the Cassia shootsIts aromatic stem, and slender leafWith silver lin’d.” The Cassia Marilandica is referred to in this passage, which was numbered
by our aborigines among their cathartics. Several of the other
species of this plant hold a far more conspicuous place in the pharmacopeia
of modern science than the marilandica. Such, for instance, are the
Senna, an Asiatic and African plant; the Emarginata, which in Jamaica,
its native soil, is used as a substitute for the Senna; the Occidentalis,
which in the same island is considered a powerful ingredient in fomentations
and baths for inflamed limbs; the Fistula, which forms the basis of
a mild and salubrious electuary; the Italica, a native of North-Africa
and the Levant; and the Alata, found both in the East and West Indies,
the juice of whose leaves and buds is a remedy in cutaneous affections.
To these, it may not perhaps be improper to add the Cassia Chamæcrista,
which is cultivated in parts of Maryland and Virginia, to recover
exhausted lands, or enrich those which are barren by nature.
shoots

Its aromatic stem, and slender leaf,

With silver lin’d. Oft raising from the earth

9(4)v 104

Her verdant curtain, joyous they descry’d

That sinuous root, which blind Credulity

Hail’d as a shield against the serpent’s fang,

But Truth enrolls amid her precious spells

For wan Disease; Note 24.— Line 339. “That sinuous root, which blind CredulityHail’d as a shield against the serpent’s fang,But Truth enrolls amid her precious spellsFor wan Disease.” The Polygala Senega, the celebrated Snake-Root of our natives, though
now discredited as an antidote to the bite of the Rattle-Snake, is exhibited
with success by some of our physicians, in the treatment of several
diseases. Pursh mentions two varieties of this species, “one with white
flowers in a dense spike, the other with rose coloured flowers in a loose
clustre, and with narrower leaves.”
or to its rocky home

Lur’d by a purple ensign, like the tinge

Of the pure amethyst, detected oft

The hidden Fever-root; Note 25.— Line 342. “—to its rocky homeLur’d by a purple ensign, like the tingeOf the pure Amethyst, detected oftThe hidden Fever-root.” The Friosteum Perfollatum is found in rich rocky grounds through
a great part of the United States. It is however a rare plant, and
distinguished by the deep purple tinge of its flowers and drupes. The
cortex of the root is a cathartic, and partakes also of the properties of
Ipecacuanha. So extensive was the acquaintance of our natives with
medicines of the latter description, that the late Dr. Benjamin S. Barton
mentions, that “the Six nations make use of at least twelve or fourteen
different emetics, all of which, except the sulphate of iron, are vegetables.”
or dext’rous pierc’d

The Ginseng’s cavern, Note 26.— Line 342. “—or dext’rous pierc’dThe Ginseng’s cavern.” The Panax Quinquefolium is found in the mountainous woods of
North-America, and Chinese Tartary. It is an umbelliferous plant, and
its simple white flower is succeeded by a heart-shaped scarlet drupe. It
is gently stimulant, and our Indians frequently prepare a tea from its
leaves. Adair mentions that some of them are accustomed to use a
strong decoction of this plant in their ceremonies upon religious occasions.
The Asiatic Ginseng is considered superior to the American. The 21(2)r 243
Chinese and Tartars entertain so high an opinion of its virtues, as to
denominate it “the plant that giveth immortality.”
where like hermit grave,

Abjuring Man, yet bearing to his cell

Some lingering earthly vanity, it rears

Its simple umbel, lucid as the down

Of the young cygnet, and anon displays

In brilliant clusters, rich with vermil dies,

Its heart-shap’d berries. Lull’d by murm’ring sounds

Of whispering brook, or softly gliding stream

The Iris, Note 27.— Line 351. “The Iris ’lumining her damp alcoveWith bright prismatic lustre, to their willResign’d her rainbow lamp.” The Iris Versicolor and Iris Verna are used by the Southern Indians
as cathartics. The Florentina also, a native of Italy, has an acrid root,
which in its fresh state is a powerful cathartic, and when dry operates as
an expectorant. The root of the Palustris, or Palustria Lutea, is both an
errhine and sialagogue. When fresh it is a strong cathartic, but after
being dried ranks among astringents. It has been recommended as a
remedy in the tooth-ache; and besides its subserviency to the materia-
medica, furnishes a deep black dye, and is used in Scotland for making
ink. This extensively variegated genus is well known to have received
its name of Iris, from the ancient Greeks, on account of the concentric
hues of the flower, exhibiting a faint resemblance to the rainbow.
’lumining her damp alcove

With bright, prismatic lustre, to their will

Resign’d her rainbow lamp; and that tall plant Note 28.— Line 353. “—that tall plantWhose flow’r and budding leaf together spring.” The Dirca Palustris is found, as its name indicates, in a wet soil. It
rises to the height of five or six feet, and flowers in April, before the
expansion of its leaves. Its bark partakes of the properties of cantharides,
and some of our aborigines use as a cathartic, a decoction of the
cortex of its root. Its common appellation of Leather-Wood is justified
by the character of its bark, which is so tough and pliant, as to be
wrought into ropes and baskets for domestic accommodation.

Whose flow’r and budding leaf together spring

Yielded its pliant vest, offering at once

In tribute, both its spirit and its robe;

Ev’n as the rein-deer consecrates to man

The uses of his life, and then bequeaths

9(5)r 105

His very sinews. Changeless as the front

Of Virtue, to the world’s adversity,

The firm Cassine, Note 29.— Line 361. “The firm Cassine endures the wrecking storm,And changeful season, by tradition styl’dThe boon of Heaven.” The Ilex Vomitoria, or Evergreen Cassine, is a native of West
Florida
. An infusion of it is the standard medicine of the Southern
Indians
. It has been supposed that this is the same plant which is found 21(2)v 244
in Paraguay, the sale of whose leaves is to the Jesuits such an important
branch of revenue. It is found also in Carolina, and among some of our
tribes was held in such high esteem, that the decoction of its toasted
leaves called “black drink,” their women were not permitted to taste.
Lawson, in recording a tradition of this plant, says “The savages of
Carolina have it in veneration above all the plants they are acquainted
withal, and tell you the discovery thereof was by an infirm Indian, who
laboured under the burden of many rugged distempers, and could not
be cured by all their Doctors; so, one day he fell asleep, and dreamt
that if he took a decoction of the tree that grew at his head, he would
certainly be cured, upon which he awoke, and saw the Yaupon,
or Cassine-tree, which was not there when he fell a sleep. He followed
the direction of his dream, and became perfectly well in a short time.
Now I suppose, no man has so little sense as to believe this fable; yet
it lets us see what they intend thereby, and that it has doubtless worked
feats enough, to gain it such an esteem among these savages, who are
too well versed in vegetables, to be brought to a continual use of any one
of them, upon a mere conceit or fancy, without some apparent benefit
they found thereby; especially when we are sensible, that they drink
the juices of plants, to free nature of her burthens, and not out of foppery
and fashion, as other nations are oftentimes found to do.”
In closing these botanical notes, which probably comprize but a small
number of the medicinal plants known to our natives, the words of the
late Professor Barton, whose attention to this subject marked at once his
perseverence and benevolence, are particularly appropriate. “Judging
from the discoveries which have been made in the term of three hundred
years, it may be safely conjectured, that there are no countries of the
globe from which there is reason to expect greater or more valuable
accessions to the Materia-Medica, than those of America. In conducting
our inquiries into the properties of the medicinal vegetables of our
country, much useful information may, I am persuaded, be obtained
through the medium of our intercourse with the Indians. Some of the
rudest tribes of our contintent are acquainted with the general medical
properties of many of their vegetables. We shall find that the Materia
Medica of these people contains but few substances as inert as many of
those which have a place in our books on this science. What treasures 21(3)r 245
of medicine may not be expected from a people, who, although destitute
of the lights of science, have discovered the properties of some of the
most inestimable medicines with which we are acquainted? Without
mentioning the productions of South-America, let it be recollected, that
it is to the rude tribes of the United States that we are indebted for our
knowledge of Polygala Senega, Aristolochia Serpentaria, and Spigelia
Marilandica.”
endures the wrecking storm,

And changeful season, by Tradition styl’d

The boon of Heaven, and round Hygeia’s fane

Wreaths a bright garland, when her priestesses

Clad in their meek and unpretending skill

Its aid demand. They boasted to allay

The venom of the crested snake, who moves

Slow through the thicket, with a dazzling eye

Fix’d on his prey, or in a sudden coil

Involves the victim, or beneath the flow’rs

Winds treacherous, to infix with barbed tongue

The traveller’s foot.

――But ah! what art might heal

Their country’s wound? Did wild, or rugged heath

Or forest, where dim Twilight ever reigns,

Vale rock-emboss’d, or root-inwove morass,

Or streamlet’s marge, or mountain cliff conceal

No holy plant, whose essence might sustain

The daughter of their people? She was pierc’d

With deadly poison from the serpent’s fang,

But for her sickness, “Gilead had no balm,

Had no physician.”

9(5)v 106

Slow with deep’ning gloom,

Age roll’d o’er age, and every bitter year

Smote with its wintry frost some plant of hope,

Which the poor Indian cherish’d. Still he nurs’d

Unchill’d, uncheck’d, amid the tempest’s ire

His native eloquence. Like the wild flame

Of some red meteor, o’er the howling storm

It flash’d, gilding the dark skirts of the cloud

Which curtain’d midnight. Awfully it shone

Into the soul of Logan, as he wept

That of his race, cold Treachery had spar’d

Not one to mourn for him; its lambent spire

Play’d round the temples, and the hoary locks

Of old Shenandoah, Note 30.— Line 394. “—its lambent spirePlay’d round the temples, and the hoary headOf old Shenandoah.” Shenandoah, a venerable chief of the Oneidas, who died at the advanced
age of 113, thus expressed before his departure, the deep feeling of
his loneliness. “I am an aged hemlock. The winds of a hundred
years have swept over its branches. It is dead at the top. Those who
began life with me, have run away from me. Why I am suffered thus
to remain God only knows.”
Not inferior in pathos, was the request
of Scanando, an aged chieftain of the same tribe, who had embraced
christianity. “Lay me in death by the side of my minister, and my
friend, that I may go up with him at the great resurrection.”
as alone he stood

Like the bare hemlock of a hundred years,

Wither’d, but not destroy’d; its darling ray

Flash’d from the eye of Corn-Plant, as he spread

The black’ning transcript of his nation’s wrongs

Before great Washington.

―― “Thou, Note 31.— Line 399. “Thou at whose nameOur kindling warriors for the battle arm.” This speech was addressed to Gen. Washington in 17901790, by Cornplanter,
a celebrated Seneca chief.
at whose name

Our kindling warriors for the battle arm, 400

Our women tremble, and our frighted babes

Cling to their mothers, yet whose generous heart

Still kind and pitiful, has mov’d our tribes

9(6)r 107

To call thee father, to thine ear once more

Our Chiefs appeal.

They come not in base fear, Who dread nor toil, nor danger; but they seek Peace for their people. Corn-Plant hath desir’d To guard the tree of peace, and as he pour’d Fresh dew upon its roots, his arm hath striv’n With his own nation. For in wrath, they ask Continually, ‘Tell us! where is that land On which our children, and our children’s babes Shall rest in peace? Said ye not, that a line Drawn from Ontario, to the purchas’d bound Of Pennsylvania, should forever mark Its eastern limit? And whoever past West of the Beaver Creek, would set his foot Upon our land? Why then, do white men come And take it from us? Why do our bold Chiefs Look on, with folded arms, then turn away? They, who had sworn to keep it for our sons, Secure forever!’

――What shall Corn-Plant urge

To this unhappy race? His little store

He has imparted to those wretched men

Whom yours have plunder’d, and unpitying left

9(6)v 108

Without a garment. All his wealth is gone,

Yet they remain unsatisfied. His heart

Shudders to think, that when enraged they rise

To vengeance, their unsparing hand will whelm

Both Innocence and Guilt. The flow’ry Spring, 430

And fav’ring Summer, while his brethren till’d

The bounteous Earth, he spent in fruitless toil,

Labouring for peace. The Autumn now is past,

But Corn-Plant hath no harvest. Sad he sees

His famish’d wife; and hears the thrilling voice

Of his young children, asking him for bread,

When he has none to give. His soul is wrung

With agony for them. Deep sighs he breathes

To the Great Spirit, Note 32.— Line 439. “Deep sighs he breathesTo the Great Spirit when the sun declines,And ere his first ray lights the trembling MornHe renders praise.” Our natives were habituated to address their prayers to the Great
Spirit. This was noticed by many of the first colonists, and Roger
Williams
, one of the early settlers of New England, and governor of
Rhode Island, remarks, “I have heard a poor Indian lamenting the loss 21* 21(3)v 246
of his child, call up at the break of day, his wife and family, to lamentation,
and with abundance of tears cry out, ‘Oh God! Thou hast taken
away my child. Thou art angry with me. Oh turn thine anger from me,
and spare thou the rest of my children.’”
“The Indian when he worships
his Creator,”
says the Rev. Mr. Heckewelder, “does not forget
to pray that he may be endowed with courage to fight, and conquer his
enemies, among whom he includes savage beasts. When he has performed
some heroic act, he will not forget to acknowledge it as a mark
of divine favour, by making a sacrifice or publickly announcing that his
success was entirely owing to the courage given him by the All-Powerful
Spirit. This habitual devotion to the Great First Cause, and a strong
feeling of gratitude for the favours that he confers, is one of the prominent
traits that characterize the mind of the untutor’d Indian. An old
Indian told me, about fifty years ago, that when he was young he still
followed the customs of his fathers and ancestors, of climbing upon a high
mountain, to thank the Great Spirit, for his benefits bestowed, and to
entreat a continuance of his favour; and that they were sure that their
prayers were heard, and acceptable to the Great Spirit, though he did not
himself appear to them.”
These declarations of their faith in the inefficacy of
prayer, may be concluded by a specimen of their devotion, at once pathetic
and sublime. “O Eternal! have mercy upon me, because I am passing
away—O Infinite! because I am but a speck,—O Most Mighty! because
I am weak,—O Source of Life! because I draw nigh to the grave,
—O Omniscient! because I am in darkness,—O All Bounteous! because
I am poor,—O All Sufficient! because I am nothing.”
when the Sun declines,

And ere his first ray lights the trembling Morn, 440

He renders praise that he has been preserv’d

Through Night’s long watches, from the restless rage

Of his own people. For they frowning mark

The White Man’s friend; and ’mid a blinded race,

Frantic with injuries, he knows no pow’r

Can guard him, but his God.

―― Yet there are wrongs

Heap’d on his nation, which his struggling soul

But ill can bear. Our noblest blood is shed

10(1)r 109

By menial hands. Our Chiefs and warriors fall,

Fall unprovok’d, and in their crimson beds 450

Sleep unaveng’d. The haughty murderer stalks

From his dark deed, unpunish’d passes on,

And finds protection. From the earth, a voice

Demands our vengeance. That you have a law,

Dooming the man, who sheds his brother’s blood,

We know. But are we, Senecas, alone

Cast out from justice? May the relentless swords

Of all malignant rovers drink our blood,

And yet be blameless? Shall the murderer find

A refuge in your arms, when our own law 460

Sanctions the swift avenger to pursue,

And recompense the deed? Father! to us,

These are great things. That you are strong, we know;

That you are wise, we hear; but we must wait

Till you have answered this, before we say

That you are just.”

When rising cities shone

In wealth and splendour, the poor natives rov’d

Around their bounds, amaz’d. Fall’n Pride, represt

The words of admiration; but strange awe,

Slavish degeneracy, and the dark frown

Of banish’d men, sat heavier on their brow.

10 10(1)v 110

Once, to the mart which favouring Commerce rear’d

On fair Manhattan, their sad Chiefs repair’d

To seek an audience. From a tow’ring height

They mark’d the goodly prospect. Note 33.— Line 475. “From a tow’ring heightThey mark’d the goodly prospect.” These Chieftains view’d the city of New York, from the balcony of
Congress-Hall, where a dinner was given them in 17891789, when they
came to treat on national affairs.
Lofty spires,

Vast domes, delightful villas, clust’ring roofs,

Streets, where the countless throng incessant pour’d,

As pleasure, pomp, or business mov’d their tides

In murmuring fluctuation; distant dales,

Slumbering in verdure; the majestic flood,

Crown’d with tall masts, and white with snowy sails,

Thoughtful they view’d. Unmov’d, the men of wealth,

Who mark’d their own possessions, lightly ask’d,

“Why are ye sad?” as once Chaldea’s bands

Inquir’d of wasted Judah, where their mirth

And songs had vanish’d, when their unstrung harps

Hung on the willows, and their exil’d feet

Roam’d in captivity.

――To them replied

The elder Chief: “We bear upon our minds

Past times, and other days. This beauteous land 490

Was once our fathers’. Here, in peace they dwelt;

For the Great Spirit gave it as a gift

To them, and to their sons. But to this shore

Once came a vast canoe, which white men steer’d

Feebly, against the blast.

10(2)r 111

Driv’n by rude storms,

They sought permission on our coast to land,

And how could we refuse? Their sick, they brought,

And in our soft shades, fann’d by gentle gales,

Laid them, and they reviv’d. But wintry winds

Soon swept the waste, and humbly they besought 500

Leave to erect a wigwam, while the frost

And snows were raging. Could our hearts refuse

The stranger shelter? to our Chiefs they said

With solemn words, that when the soft’ning spring

Dissolv’d the wrath of winter, they would seek

Their distant homes, and leave us to ourselves;

And we were satisfied. With pitying eye

Their wasted frames we saw, by Famine smit;

We gave them corn, and fed them. When fair spring

Shone sweetly on the budding earth, we claim’d 510

Their promise to depart. But they had rear’d

Strange iron ramparts, which at their command

Breath’d flame and death. Pointing to these, they said

‘We will not!’ and indignantly they glanc’d

Defiance on us. Other hands arriv’d

Strength’ning their purpose. Mad, enticing draughts

Deceitfully they gave us, till the cup

Reft us of reason. Then they forc’d us back

10(2)v 112

From field to field, from forest, and from flood,

Where our subsistence lay. And you, their sons, 520

Still drive us onward. You enjoy the land

Of luxury; while we, wasted and scorn’d,

Herd in the wilderness. But ye will cease

Ere long to press us, for our fading race

Will cease to be. Think ye, that we can view

These beauteous shores, and yon proud swelling flood,

And not remember that they once were ours?

And thus rememb’ring, need ye wond’ring ask

Why sorrow clothes our brow?”

Full many a strain

Of native eloquence, Note 34.— Line 530. “Full many a strainOf native eloquence, simple and wildHas risen in our dark forests.” A bold, nervous, and figurative style characterizes the speeches, and
even the more common communications of our aborigines. More liberally
than other savage nations, they seem to have been endowed with the
gift of Nature’s eloquence. Most of their effusions have literally been
poured upon the regardless winds; though the existence of a few have
been preserved, principally in miscellaneous collections. The Rev. Mr.
Heckewelder
, has recorded a speech, which was delivered in Detroit,
1801-12-09Dec. 9, 1801, by a Chief of the Delaware tribe , and addressed to the
commanding officer of that post, then in the hands of the British. At
the beginning of the revolutionary war, the Lenni Lenape having in
vain endeavoured to remain neutral, generally joined the Americans;
but this Chief with his party had become allies of the English. It
seems that they had repented when it was too late to retract, and were
compelled to continue in hostility to the Americans. At their return from
an expedition, the following report was made to the British commandant
in the Council-house at Detroit, before a large concourse. “Several
missionaries were present,”
says Mr. Heckewelder, “among whom I
was. The Chief was seated in front of his Indians, facing the Commandant.
In his left hand he held a scalp, tied to a short stick. After
a pause of some minutes he arose, and thus addressed the Governor.”
“‘Father!’ (at the utterance of this word, the orator stopped, and
turning round to the audience, with a face full of meaning, and a sarcastic
look which I should in vain attempt to describe, went on conversing
with them,) ‘I have said Father, although, I do not know why I am
to call him so, having never known any other Father than the French,
and considering the English only as brothers.’
It may perhaps be well to
mention here, that the Delawares had been steadfast friends of the French,
in the war of 17561756, but after the peace in 17631763, having vainly hoped
that their Father, the King of France, would send an army, to retake
Canada, they submitted with reluctance to the British government.
‘But as this name,’ said the orator, ‘has been imposed upon us, I 21(4)v 248
shall make use of it, and say
(fixing his eyes upon the Commandant,)
Father! sometime ago, you put a war-hatchet into my hand, saying,
“Take this weapon, and try it on the heads of my enemies, the Long-
knives
, and bring me word if it is sharp and good.”
Father! at the
time when you gave me this weapon I had neither cause nor inclination to
go to war with a people who had done me no injury. Yet in obedience
to you, who say, that you are my Father, and call me your child, I
received the hatchet, well knowing that if I did not obey, you would
withhold from me the necessaries of life, without which I could not subsist;
and where else should I procure them, but at the house of a
parent.
Father! you perhaps think me a fool, for risking my life at your
bidding; in a cause too, where I have no prospect of gain. It is your
cause, and not mine. It is your concern to fight the Long-knives; you
have raised a quarrel among yourselves, and you ought yourselves to
fight it out. If the Indians be your children, you should not compel them
to expose themselves to danger for your sakes. Father! Many lives
have been already lost on your account. Nations have suffered, and
been weakened. Children have lost parents. Wives have lost husbands.
Who can know how many more may perish, before your war will be at
an end? Father! I have said that you may perhaps think me a
fool, for thus thoughtlessly rushing on your enemy. Do not believe
this, Father! Think not that I want sense to convince me that although
you now pretend to keep up a perpetual enmity to the Long-Knives, you
may before long conclude a peace with them.
Father! You say you love your children, the Indians. This you
have often told them: indeed it is your interest to say so, that you may
have them at your service. But Father! Who of us can believe that
it is possible for you to love a people of different colour from your own,
better than those who have a white skin like yourselves? Father! Attend
to what I am going to say. While you, Father, are setting me on
your enemy, much in the same manner as a hunter sets his dog on the
game, while I am in the act of rushing on that enemy of yours, with the
bloody destructive weapon you gave me, I may perhaps happen to look
back, to the place from whence you started me, and what shall I see?
Perhaps I may see my Father shaking hands with the Long-Knives; 21(5)r 249
yes, with those very people he at this moment calls his foes. Then I
may see him laugh at my folly, for having obeyed his orders; and yet,
I am now risking my life at his command. Father! Keep what I have
said in remembrance.
Now Father! Here is what has been done with the hatchet you
gave me
(presenting the scalp). I have done with this hatchet what
you ordered me to do. I have found it sharp. Nevertheless, I did not
do all that I might have done. No! I did not. My heart failed within
me. I felt compassion for your enemy. Innocence had no part in your
quarrels. Therefore I distinguished, I spared. I took some live flesh,
which while I was bringing to you, I espied one of your large canoes,
and put it there for you. In a few days you will receive this flesh, and
find that the skin is the same colour with your own.
Father! I hope you will not destroy what I have spared. You,
Father, have the means of preserving what with me would perish for want.
The warrior is poor, his cabin is empty: but your house, Father, is
ever full.’”
“Here,” says Mr. Heckewelder, “we see boldness, frankness, dignity
and humanity, happily blended, and eloquently displayed, The
component parts of this discourse are put together, much according to
the rules of oratory of the schools, and which were certainly unknown to
the speaker. The peroration is short, truly pathetic, even sublime:
and I wish I could convey to the mind of the reader a small part of
the impression which this speech made on me, and on all who heard it
delivered.”
The following effusion is of a wholly different character. It was
uttered a few years since, by a Maha Chieftain, named Big-Elk, over
the grave of the Chief of the Teton tribe, who died at Portage des
Sioux
, on his return from our seat of government. He was interred
with all the honours of war, and this speech was taken literally by the
Secretary of the American Commissioners.
“Do not grieve. Misfortunes will happen to the wisest and best
of men. Death will come, and always comes out of season. It is the
command of the Great Spirit: all nations and people must obey. What
is past, and cannot be prevented, should not be grieved for. Be not
discouraged or displeased then, that in visiting your Father you have lost 21(5)v 250
your Chief. A misfortune of this kind may never again befall you: perhaps
it would have overtaken you at your own village. Five times have
I visited this land, yet never returned without sorrow and pain. Woes
do not flourish particularly in our path. They grow every where. What
a misfortune that I could not have died this day, instead of the Chief
who lies before us. The trifling loss my nation would have sustained by
my death, would have been doubly paid for by the honours of my burial.
They would have wiped off every thing like regret. Instead of being
covered with a cloud of sorrow, my warriors would have felt the sunshine
of joy in their hearts. To me it would have been a most glorious
occurrence. Hereafter, when I die at home, instead of this noble grave,
and grand procession, the rolling music, and thundering cannon, with a
banner waving over my head, I shall be wrapped in a robe, and raised on
a slender scaffold to the whistling winds, soon to be blown to the earth,
my flesh to be devoured by the wolves, and my bones scattered on the
plain by wild beasts.”
On the subject of the eloquence of our aborigines, Sansom,
in his travels in Canada, remarks, “when Father Charlevoix, a
learned Jesuit, first assisted at an Indian council, he could not believe
that the Jesuit, who acted as interpreter, was not imposing upon the
audience the effusions of his own brilliant imagination. Yet Charlevoix
had been accustomed to the Orations of Massillon, and Bourdaloue;
when those eminent orators displayed all the powers of pulpit eloquence,
at the funerals of princes, upon the fertile subject of the vanity of life;
but he confesses that he had never heard any thing so interesting, as the
extempore discourses of an Indian chief. Even those who have had the
enviable privilege of listening in the British house of Commons, to ‘The popular harangue,—the tart reply,The logic, and the wisdom, and the wit,’
that flowed spontaneous from Burke, and Sheridan, and Fox, and Pitt,
during the most splendid period of British oratory, have freely acknowledged
that they never heard of any thing more impressive than an
Indian speech, accompained as it usually is, with all the graces of unconstrained
delivery.”
simple and wild,

Has ris’n in our dark forests, which the winds

Unheeded, swept away. Yet, had it broke

From bold Demosthenes, when Athens fear’d

The distant step of Philip, had it burst

From the impetuous Hannibal, when Rome

Muster’d at Zama—it had been enroll’d

In History’s choicest annal, the pure eye

Of Taste had trickled o’er it, and the lip

Of the young student, had been proud to pour

Its treasur’d pathos. But thy slighted words,

Untutor’d Red Man!—Ah! how few will trace

10(3)r 113

Their chronicle obscure, and fewer still

Accord the meed of just applause, unmix’d

With scorn upon thy nation. Lofty, firm

And high soul’d honour, mocking at the pain

Which wastes the body, once thy sires could boast,

Such as in Rome, amid her better days,

Had been exalted. That indignant warmth

Which nerv’d Lucretia’s arm, which urg’d the sword

Of the unshrinking Arria, fir’d the breast

Of Oolaita. No. 35.— Line 551. “Oolaita.” This incident is borrowed from Schoolcraft’s Journal. The heroine
was a native of the Sioux tribe, who inhabit the banks of the Mississippi
and Missouri. They are warlike and powerful, and feared by the neighbouring
nations. This tribe admits of several subdivisions, among which
the clan of Minowa Kantong has obtained pre-eminence. One of
its principal bands resides near the head of Lake Pepin, and to this belonged
the father of Oolaita. The Minowa Kantongs are by far the
most civilized of the Sioux tribe. They are skillfull in the construction
of canoes, and in the use of fire-arms, with which they are well provided.
They are the only ones among their nation, who erect long-huts, and
attend to the cultivation of vegetables. The Sioux are considered as
the most warlike and independent tribe of Indians within the territory
of the United States. With them, every passion is held in subservience
to the enthusiasm of the warrior, and to be “invincible in arms,” is the
summit of ambition. Such is the excellence of their leaders, and the
dauntless spirit of the people, that they have hitherto bid defiance to
every hostile attack. From their pronunciation, habits and personal
appearance, the opinion has been entertained that they derive their origin
from the Tartars. The following description of Lake Pepin, where a
part of this tribe have their territory, is from the pen of Schoolcraft.
“This beautiful sheet of water is an expansion of the Mississippi river,
six miles below the Sioux village of Talangamane, and one hundred
below the Falls of St. Anthony. It is twenty-four miles in length, with
a width of from two to four miles, and is indented with several bays, and
prominent points, which serve to enhance the beauty of the prospect.
On the east shore is a lofty range of lime-stone bluffs, which are much
broken and crumbled, sometimes run into pyramidal peaks, and often
present a character of the utmost sublimity. On the west is a high level
prairie, covered with the most luxuriant growth of grass, yet nearly destitute
of forest trees. This lake is beautifully circumscribed by a broad
beach of clean washed gravel, which often extends from the foot of the
surrounding highlands, three or four hundred yards into the lake, forming
gravelly points, upon which there is a delightful walk, and scalloping out 21(6)v 252
the margins of the lake, with the most pleasing irregularity. In walking
along these, the eye is attracted by the various colours of mineral gems,
which are promiscuously scattered among the water-worn debris of granitic,
and other rocks; and the agate, carnelian, and chalcedony are met
with at every step. The size of these gems is often as large as the egg
of the partridge, and their transparency and beauty of color is only excelled
by the choicest oriental specimens.”
Where dark Pepin’s lake

Spread its bold bosom to the ruffian winds,

Her father’s cabin rose. Grave, ancient men,

Would oft with envious eye regard the Chief

Who boasted such a daughter; for the charms

Which in their simple thought were beauty, lurk’d

And revell’d round her youth.

――From her calm eye

Beam’d a dark majesty, that well beseem’d

A Chieftain’s daughter, though her willing hand

Slighted no labour, which their customs rude

Impos’d on woman. In her garden’s bound,

Among the plants, and clust’ring herbs, she wrought,

With skilful industry; her raven locks

Wreath’d round her temples, the ripe corn she bruis’d

10* 10(3)v 114

For the returning hunters; o’er the wave

Guided the light canoe; and when she rose

To shun the angle of some pointed rock,

With dext’rous oar, her graceful form display’d

Erect proportion, dignified, and firm,

Rounded with female softness. One dark eye

Still watch’d her course, and if a billow spoke

The waking tempest’s wrath, with lightning speed

Impatient darted to the maiden’s aid,

Young Arionto. He, with vigorous arm

Could quell the angry waters, up the steep

Whose trackless summit mock’d the mountain goat,

Press with unbending breast. In war, his soul

Shone like the veteran’s through his kindling eye,

Undaunted and exulting: in the chace

His tireless foot rivall’d the bounding deer

Whose fall reveal’d his arrow-flight. Fair birds

Of downy breast, and rainbow plume he brought,

As trophies to his love, and his high heart

Had leap’d to hear that maiden’s gentle voice

Say timourously, that his hand alone

Should bring her ven’son, and his cabin be

The shelter of her life.

10(4)r 115

But frowns severe

Mantled her Father’s brow, and her heart shrunk

To read their purport. Ever to his home,

With friendly hand, and fav’ring tone he led

The grave Omaldi, held in high renown

For valour and for wisdom. Time had strewn

A tinge of silver lightly o’er his brow,

And temper’d Manhood’s daring, with the cast

Of sage, serene Experience. He had said

“Give me thy daughter, and between our tribes

There shall be peace.”

The maiden saw her fate,

For from the sacred mandate of a sire

Was no appeal. Young Arionto dwelt

With sadness; where black shades expell’d the day

He made his cavern, as the stricken deer

Shuns his companions. Oolaita’s eye

Confess’d no tear-drop, though its lustre fled.

Throughout the weary day, no bitter sigh

Burst from her bosom, and thro’ length’ning nights

Sleepless she prest her pillow, yet complain’d not.

There was an awful silence on the soul

Of that devoted maiden, which an eye

Studious of Nature’s more mysterious springs

10(4)v 116

Might fearfully interpret. Now the day

Of sacrifice approach’d; the bridal feast

Cheer’d with its simple meriment, the cell

That gave her birth. But from that joyous scene

The maiden stole, and secretly attain’d

A tow’ring precipice, whose beetling front

O’erhung the lake.

It was an awful height

For dizzy Fear to contemplate. There stood

The unmov’d maiden; her thin, bridal robe

And raven tresses floating on the wind,

While her fix’d glance explor’d th’ unfathom’d tide

Dark’ning around its base. “I come! she cry’d,

The bride of those dark waters; true in death

To Arionto.” —From the frightful cliff

She vanish’d! its abrupt, irregular mass

Dazzled one moment with a flitting robe,

A heavy plunge was heard, yet nought was seen,

Save one red ripple, where the shaded lake

Flow’d on, in ebon stillness. High-soul’d Maid!

There didst thou perish. From Leucates’ rock,

Sappho might rush, a coward to the pangs

Of disappointed love, and be enshrin’d

In Fame’s proud temple, but thou, martyr firm,

10(5)r 117

So nobly constant to thy virgin vow,

In the abyss of Pepin’s lonely lake,

May’st plunge, and be forgotten.

Driven back

From wild to wild, the natives yield, and sink

In cold oblivion. We, who ought to weep

O’er their deep woes, and send a cordial balm

To heal the wounds, made by our fathers’ swords,

Lift up the hand against them, stain our page

Not with their wrongs, but with their dark reproach

Industriously sought. We teach our babes

Not to lisp prayers for them, but join their names

With baseness, treachery, and the shuddering

Of dread disgust. We take away their food,

Their hunting forests, and their broad lakes throng’d

With scaly tribes. Their meagre forms we see

Withering with famine, and to their parch’d lips

Hold that enchanted cup, whose fearful dregs

Like those of Circe, change the form erect,

To grov’lling beastliness. How can he stand,

Unnurtur’d Savage! ’gainst that potent spell,

Which baffles prudence, steals from pride its plume,

Enthralls the wise, and lays the mighty low,

Ev’n of our race. Th’ untutor’d Indian drinks.

10(5)v 118

Drinks, and is stupified, while we deride

And point him out; like the stern, Spartan lords,

Who gave their vassals the enticing draught,

Then call’d their children to despise, and say

“Behold! the slaves are drunken.” We prepare

A dry and thirsty soil by harrowing wrongs,

And the poor Red Man sets it with strange slips,

And roots of bitterness. Much we condemn

His mode of warfare. Thoughtless censors oft

Sneering exclaim, “How cowardly to hide

In the dark thicket, or from sheltering trees

Aim at the foe.” Why are the palisade,

Rampart, and bastion rear’d for the defence

Of modern valour? Does it raise a blush

On the bold cheek of Discipline, to say

Its principle is to annoy the foe

And keep itself unhurt? Why is it base

To choose a spreading tree, more than to stand

Behind a parapet? The Soldier vers’d

In all the “pomp and circumstance of war,”

Seeks the close fortress, and we praise his skill:

The native, from the thicket lifts his bow,

And we decry the savage. Thirst of blood,

The dark offence, we tolerate; but cry

10(6)r 119

Wo to the wandering slave, if by his hand

Th’ offence shall come. Why? Ask the heart within;

And let us judge impartially, as those

Who in the twinkling of an eye, may meet

Judgment themselves.

But still we say, how vile

The skulking Indian, in his ambush laid!

How are such stratagems despis’d by those

Who feel the thirst of glory, and are mov’d

By nobleness of soul, to the dread field

Of mortal combat.

Turn the storied page,

Retrace the scenes when Italy shrunk back,

Amaz’d to see the proud Alps pour a train

Of warriors from the clouds. Whose martial skill

Spread his strong force in secret ambuscade,

And ere the foe was ready, starting up,

Surpriz’d his legions? Who the green earth stain’d

With sudden slaughter? and with corses chok’d

Thrasymene’s reddening lake?

Oh! this we say

Was Hannibal, the generous, and the brave;

Give him the meed of valour, age o’er age

May roll, but not impair his deathless fame.

10(6)v 120

Survey the seige of Veii, through the mist

Of gathering years. Ev’n now her temples seem

To glitter on the eye, her olive groves

To woo the breeze, and her aspiring walls

To smile derision on those weary bands

Who for ten years, with all the arts of war

Vainly invest them. But why heaves the Earth?

Why from her unsuspecting bosom spring

Men, clad in steel? who on their weapons bear

Havoc and death? Are these the hosts of Rome!

With soaring helmets, mining like the mole,

And in their serpentine, and secret path

Creeping, as the dark robber prowls, to snatch

Some long-mark’d hoard, until they listening hear

Above their heads, the mingling, murm’ring sounds

Of the unconscious Citadel? Are these

The boasted heroes! who with sudden strokes

Pierce her unguarded heart, and line her streets

With her dead children, slain amid their mirth?

This was Camillus! And what heart may doubt

The greatness of the Roman?

O’er the tow’rs

Of lofty Ilion, wreck’d by Grecian wiles,

Why does the dazzled eye prolong its gaze

11(1)r 121

In breathless interest, yet avert its glance,

Disgusted, and indignant, at the scenes

Of Indian stratagems? The pomp of names,

The pride of princes, the time-sanction’d meed

Of admiration, the majestic lay

Of the great master of the epic lyre

Infold in robes of flaming awe, the deed;

Yet Fraud is still the same.

But that pure Eye

Which searcheth spirits, that just Hand which holds

The balance of the sanctu’ry, will judge

Us all at last. And when the garniture

Of frail mortality hath fed the flame,

How will the motives of offensive war

Endure his righteous ordeal. Wrath! Revenge!

Ambition! Hatred! Guilty thirst of blood!

How will they differ in the forest Chief,

And him of Macedon? Oh! how will they

So deified on Earth, sustain the doom,

“Weigh’d, and found wanting!”

Still we boldly say,

The Indian cruelty, untam’d and fierce,

Can find no parallel, in any age,

11 11(1)v 122

Or any nation. This strong charge is brought,

And they deny it not. What page have they,

Or what historic pen to palliate,

To justify or blazon? To the lists

We dare the unarm’d, and conquer them at once.

We cite them to their trial, where they stand

Silent and we condemn. But would some friend,

Some advocate, who loves to right the oppress’d,

Like Clarkson, or like Wilberforce, arise

And tell these aliens, of the Spartan lords

Who deck’d with garlands, and with freedom’s robe

Thousands of home-born slaves, and ere the Sun

Rose on the joyous train, destroy’d them all

With horrid treachery; or of Persia’s king

The fratricide, Cambyses, o’er the tomb

Of Egypt’s monarch, mocking; of the pride

Of brutal Xerxes, rising from the board

Of hoary Pythias, to destroy his sons

Before his eyes, and o’er their mangled limbs

March all his troops; or of Sicilian hate,

That when the faint Athenians bowing sought

With parched tongues, the cool, restoring stream,

Butcher’d them with the water on their lips,

That quench’d their battle thirst; of the sad throng

11(2)r 123

In Syracusan prisons, scorch’d by day

With burning heat, shiv’ring and chill at night,

Uncover’d, and emaciate, and unfed,

Save by a scanty pittance, to sustain

Life for its lingering torments; of the deeds

Of murderous Sylla; of the furious wrath

Of Dionysius; of the fiend-like sports

Of Caligula, when his subjects’ limbs

Were mangled, and struck off, that he might laugh

And find amusement in the writhing pain

Of dying men; of Nero, who devis’d

Tortures for his own Romans, op’d the veins

Of calm philosophers, to see them bear

The last chill ague, lighted up the fires

With wretched Christians, wrapt in robes of pitch,

To serve as blazing torches through the night

For scoffing Rome—Oh! had the Indians heard

Of deeds like these, they would reject the charge,

That they alone, above all men, were stain’d

With dark barbarity. Say! could they learn

Aught merciful from those, whose impious hands

Stretch’d out before their eye, on burning coals,

Firm Guatamozin, the once happy prince

Of Mexico—who through the echoing wilds

11(2)v 124

Hunted the flying natives with their dogs

Train’d to the scent of blood?

Those forest sons

Taught from their youth, to twine the vengeful creed

With the soul’s honour, shrink not to demand

Sternly, like ancient Israel, eye for eye,

And life for life. Their rash, misguided hands

Rais’d for retaliation, in blind wrath

And ignorance, with no controuling force

Of heav’n-taught precept, oft are deeply stain’d

With cruelty. But how shall we excuse

The deeds of favour’d Christians? those who hear

And promise to obey that law of love,

Whose precepts bind its votary not to hate,

Or persecute, but render the meek pray’r

And patient deed of mercy!

What can shield

The dark ferocity of papal Rome,

At first so lamb-like, but so soon transform’d

To a devouring monster, mad with blood,

Driving to dens, and caves, and rocky cliffs

Of pitying Piedmont, a defenceless band

Call’d by that Saviour’s name, whom she profess’d

To worship and adore! Has earth a cell,

11(3)r 125

In her deep centre, dark enough to hide

The racks, the tortures, and the streaming blood

Of the dire Inquisition? What pure stream,

Of sprinkling priest, or holy mass can cleanse

The guilty Bastile? where Despair detain’d

The wretched captives, till their wasted forms

Became as cold, and rigid as the stone

That bound their prisons! What melodious voice

Can hush the death-groans of the Cambrian bards,

Thy prey, stern Edward! slain with their meek hands

Prest on their harps, and pouring in sweet strains

The simple music of their native vales,

Thoughtless of ill?

Where is a veil to spread

O’er the red visage, and the spotted robes

Of France, wild rushing thro’ the frantic scenes

Of revolution, steeping o’er and o’er

Her clotted tresses, in the blood of kings,

Singing discordant madrigals, to drown

The death-shrieks of her sons, or hasting on

To plant her reeking standards o’er the walls

Of trembling, bleeding Germany.

And thou,

My Country! what has thy example been?

11* 11(3)v 126

Thou, who hast sometimes sent thy men of peace,

To warn the savage of His holy will,

Who hath no pleasure in the ways of wrath,

Revenge, or cruelty?

――The answer speeds

On the wild winds which rais’d red clouds of flame,

In awful volumes from the peaceful roofs

Of sad Muskingum; Note 36.— Line 843. “—the peaceful roofsOf sad Muskingum.” “A whole town of christian Indians, consisting of 90 men, women
and children, were butchered in cold blood at Muskingum, in 17831783,
notwithstanding they had been our tried friends, throughout the whole
of the revolutionary war.”
Star in the West.
in deep tones it sighs

From those who visit the deserted bounds

Of the slain Creeks; Note 37.— Line 845. “—the deserted boundsOf the slain Creeks.” “In the autumn of 18191819, a detachment of soldiers, under Gen.
Coffee
, laid waste the Tallushatches towns where the Creeks had assembled.
Women and children were among the wounded and slain, and not
one warrior escaped to bear tidings to the remainder of the tribe.”
Traits
of Indian Character
. Analectic Magazine.
and from the troubled grave

Of Malaanthee, Note 38.— Line 846. “—from the troubled graveOf Malaanthee.” In the summer of 17881788, a party of Kentucky militia set out on an
expedition against the Pickewatown. They were discovered by some
young hunters, pursuing the chase, who returned and gave information
to their aged chieftain, Malaanthee. He refused to believe that any
injury was intended them by the whites, on account of a treaty which had
been executed the preceding spring. He therefore unsuspiciously advanced
to meet them, holding in one hand this treaty signed by the American
Commissioners, and in the other the flag of the United States, which he
had received at the same time. “I, and my people,” said he, “are 22(1)r 253
friends of the thirteen fires. Faithfully have we observed the treaty
made with their Chiefs; and on this flag, which they gave me as a mark
of friendship, I place my own and my people’s protection.”
A fatal
blow was their answer to the hoary Chief. The white flag, stained with
blood, was torn from his lifeless hand, and displayed as a trophy on the
Court-house at Lexington.
This unprincipled deed is strongly contrasted with an instance of
magnanimity, and inviolable friendship, recorded in Mr. Jefferson’s Notes
on Virginia
. Col. Byrd was once sent to transact some business with
the Cherokee nation; and it happened that some of our disorderly people
had just murdered one or two of theirs. It was proposed in the council
of the Cherokees, that Col. Byrd should be put to death, in revenge for
the loss of their countrymen. Among them, was a chief named
Silouéé, who on some former occasion had contracted a friendly acquaintance
with Col. Byrd. Every night he came to him in his tent,
telling him not to be afraid, for they should not take away his life.
After many days deliberation, they however determined, contrary to
Silouéé’s expectation, that Col. Byrd should be put to death, and some
warriors despatched as executioners. Silouéé attended them, and when
they entered the tent, threw himself between them and their victim,
exclaiming “this man is my friend! Before you get at him, you must
kill me.”
On this, the warriors returned, and the Council respected
the principle so much, as to recede from their decision.
in low, hollow sounds

Murmuring it rises, “Lo! Behold the men

Who knew, and publish’d the pure word of peace,

Yet kept it not!” Note 39.— Line 849. “Lo! Behold the menWho knew, and publish’d the pure word of peace,Yet kept it not.” “I was astonished,” says the Rev. Mr. Heckewelder, “to hear in
1787-04April 1787, a great Delaware Chief, after recapitulating some of the
wrongs sustained through the whites, conclude in these words. ‘I
admit that there are good white men: but they bear no proportion
to the bad. The bad must be strongest; for the bad rule. They
do what they please. They enslave those who are not of their
colour, though created by the same Great Spirit. They would
make slaves of us, if they could, but as they have not fully done 22 22(1)v 254
it, they kill us. There is no faith in their words. They are not like
us Indians, enemies only in war, in peace friends. They will say to
an Indian, My friend! My brother! They will take him by the hand,
and at the same moment destroy him. And so you,’
(addressing himself
to the Christian Indians,) ‘so you will also be treated by them before
long. Remember this day have I warned you to beware of such friends
as these. I know the Long-Knives: they are not to be trusted.’

Eleven months after this speech was delivered by the prophetic Chief,
96 of the same Christian Indians, about 60 of them women and children,
were murdered in the very place where these words had been spoken,
by the men he had alluded to, and in the manner he had described.”

Loskiel, Part 3, Chap. 10.
Say, did the spectre form

Of Malaanthee, break no nightly dream,

Ye murd’rers? Did those aged features, stern

In Death’s convulsion, and those few, grey hairs

Matted with blood, ne’er glare through midight’s pall

Before your straining eyes, till ye have curst

The ghost, that seem’d to multiply itself

Where’er ye turn’d? Amid your orgies rude,

Has Earth ne’er yawn’d beneath your reeling feet,

And from the chasm, a dead army slowly ris’n,

Bearing a crimson scroll? That scroll ye knew!

11(4)r 127

And once the signet of mild peace it bore;

Blaz’d it now in fiery characters

“Heav’n’s Justice?” Did your trembling joints unloose,

And smite together, like that impious king

Who, ’mid his revel, in mysterious lines

Saw shudd’ring, by dismember’d fingers trac’d,

His hast’ning doom?

What piercing shrieks of woe,

Break from those bounds, where clust’ring foliage shades

The Chehaw villages! Note 40.— Line 868. “The Chehaw villages.” The destruction of the Chehaw villages, was in the spring of 18181818,
by Gen. Jackson, when for the space of three days the country was
ravaged, the houses burned, the provisions destroyed, the men slaughtered,
and the women made captives.
A moment since,

And all was peace. Those simple, lowly cells,

And cultivated gardens, seem’d the abode

Of rural happiness. Now, the green turf

Where spring was strewing her pure blossoms, reeks

With living crimson. On the furrow’d field,

Which his own hands were planting, sudden falls

The unarm’d father. His young children shriek

Around their dwelling, and th’ unconscious babes

Cling to their captive mothers. Angry bands

Urge wide the work of death. Tir’d day declines

Yet still their hands unshrinking, clench the sword,

Reeking in gore. The hasty, restless night

Sat on their wrecks unslumb’ring, and the Sun

Look’d with pale glance upon the sanguine Morn,

11(4)v 128

Rousing new deeds of guilt. Devouring flames

Involve each dwelling. Blazing columns rise,

Promiscuous, glaring o’er the lurid sky.

Wild shouts of terror, agonizing flight,

Unequal conflict, groans of gasping death,

Vary the awful drama. Wreaths of smoke

Curtain dim Twilight, and affrighted Eve

Lighted by fury, and unnat’ral lamps

Sinks on her couch. Reluctant rays illume

The third dark day of horrour. Ruin wrings

Her bitterest dregs. The sword is cloy’d with blood,

The flames are famish’d; the scorch’d foliage droops

Over a black drear desert, and no voice

Of rustic labour, or of cheerful song

Survives. O’er calcin’d ruins, steep’d in gore,

Stalks Desolation; while no sound disturbs

His drear dominion, save the heavy tramp

Of haughty victors, save the shrill response

Of pipe, and drum, and clarion, clamouring loud,

Triumphant joy. I see the thronging band

Emerging from the vale; their banners float

Amid the forest, and a captive train

Helpless, and weeping, follow.

11(5)r 129

Who are these,

Red from the bloody wine-press, with its stains

Dark’ning their raiment? Yet I dare not ask

Their clime and lineage, lest the accusing blasts,

Waking the angry echoes, should reply

“Thy Countrymen!”

11(5)v 130

Canto Fourth.

As when long ling’ring on some lonely cliff

Of stormy Hebrid, or where rocky Hoy

Heaves with unbanner’d brow, a mighty mass

Like tow’ring pyramid, whose apex gleams

With magic lustre, like the ancient lance

Of some Norse chieftain, summoning the force

Of scatter’d Orcades; or from the crest

Of dread Ronaldi, which like eaglet proud

Soars o’er North-Maven, wreathing round his crest

Those dazzling sun-beams, which but faintly smile

On wintry Zetland, with abstracted gaze

Some anxious wand’rer eyes the tossing main

Lash’d by a recent tempest, and descries

The frequent-floating wreck, and swollen corse

Borne on the angry surge, till his sad heart

Shuddering within his tortur’d bosom loathes

The awful prospect, thus my spirit shrinks

From scenes of cruelty! Cold horror creeps

Over my sick’ning frame, and my dim eye

11(6)r 131

Turns from the glare of carnage, turns from those

Who knew the law of mercy, yet effac’d

Its precepts with their swords. Once more it seeks

The outcast Indian, who hath never heard

His Saviour’s will.

――It seeks, but he is gone!

Like the light vapour trembling o’er the lakes

He vanishes! No more his fishing line

Breaks the fair surface of thy chrystal breast,

Ontario! nor his rapid bark descends

The rolling Hudson. Silent is the shout

Of the glad hunter, in the forest shades of

Of Susquehannah. What has crush’d the pride

Of great Potomac’s chieftain? What has swept

The mighty Mohawk, Note 1.— Line 33. “The mighty Mohawk.” Ever since the settlement of this country by the Europeans, the
Mohawks have been noted for their fierceness, and the terror they inspired
among the surrounding tribes. Their original territory was in
the vicinity of Hudson’s river, though they have now removed to the
countries under the British jurisdiction. At the period of Capt. Smith’s
history, which was published in London in 16271627, they are mentioned as
“a great nation, and very populous.” Gookin’s Historical Collections
of the Indians of New-England,
bearing date in 16921692, contains
the following testimony to the warlike and imposing character of this
tribe. “These Mohawks, or Maquars, are given to rapine and spoil, and
hostility with the neighbouring Indians. In truth, they were, in time
of war, so great a terror to our Indians, even though ours were far
more in number than they, that the appearance of four or five Mohawks
in the woods would frighten them from their habitations and corn-fields,
and reduce many of them to get together into forts, by which means
they were brought to straits and poverty. For they were driven from
their planting-fields through fear, and from their fishing and hunting
places; yes, they durst not go into the woods to seek roots and nuts to
sustain life. To sum up all concerning them, you may see that they
are a stout and cruel people, much addicted to bloodshed and barbarity;
and very prone to vex and spoil the peaceable Indians.”
and fierce Delaware Note 2.— Line 33. “—and fierce Delaware.” “The Delawares, or Leni Lenape Indians,” says the Rev. Mr.
Heckewelder
, “according to the traditions handed down to them by their
ancestors, resided many hundred years ago, in a very distant country, in
the western part of the American continent. They afterwards emigrated,
and settled on the four great rivers, Delaware, Hudson, Susquehannah,
and Potomac, making the Delaware, to which they gave the name of
Lenapewihittuck (the river or stream of the Lenape) the centre of their
possessions. The word ‘Hittuck’, in the language of the Delawares, means
a rapid stream. ‘Sipo, or Sepu, is their word for river.’ The
Delawares, who were formerly very fierce and powerful, have greatly
decreased in numbers, but still retain their ancient courage, and are
considered an intelligent and respectable tribe.”

From their own realms? Why is thy boundless vale,

Shenandoah, tenantless? Thy silver wave

Bold Rappahannock, why does it reflect

No more, those dark red features?

Hear ye not

A sighing spirit from that distant bourn

Whence there is no return, as if the winds

Moan’d deep and hollow thro’ some broken arch

With mould’ring moss o’ergrown!――

11(6)v 132

“Oh! ye who tread

O’er our forgotten ashes, who behold

Our sons renounce their birthright, and forsake

The shade of buried glory, ye have reft

Their ancient freedom, can ye lead their souls

To liberty and light? Their heritage

On earth ye cancel; oh! provide a home

In future worlds. Life’s pilgrimage to them

Is darkness; will ye lend that lamp which gilds

The vale of death? To them, the hand of Time 50

Yields but the cup of sorrow; can ye guide

To a sure refuge on the hastening shores

Of dread Eternity?”

Behold the appeal

Already heeded! As the gleaming bow

Paints its soft emerald on the fading storm,

Presage of calmness, thus thro’ dusky clouds

A heavenly radiance shed its infant beams,

And the dark desert smiles. Thine eye beheld

Its dawn, meek Eliot! Note 3.— Line 59. “Thine eye beheldIts dawn, meek Eliot.” This excellent man, who is usually styled the Apostle of the Indians,
felt his benevolence excited by their wretchedness, at a time when they
were generally considered objects of contempt and of degradation.
He was the minister of Roxbury, in Massachusetts, and added, in the
year 16461646, to his parochial duties, the office of spiritual teacher of the
natives. In this he persevered both with firmness and delight, notwithstanding
the features of enthusiasm, which his design assumed to a
generation, not familiar, like our own, with the energies of missionary
exertion. “In this work,” says Gookin, a contemporary writer, “did
this good man industriously travel for many years, without external
encouragement from man, or the receiving of any salary or reward.
The truth is, that Mr. Eliot engaged in this laborious work of preaching
to the Indians, on a very pure and sincere account.”
In answer to those
who questioned him with expressions of surprize respecting his undertaking,
he gives as reasons, his desire of making God known to those
miserable heathen, his ardent affection for them and his wish to conform
to the promise with New-England had made the king in return for 22(3)r 257
her Charter, “to communicate the gospel to the natives, as one principal
end of determining to plant in their country.”
It is remarked by
another historian, that after more intimate acquaintance with the original
customs and traditions of the Indians, Eliot traced such frequent resemblances
to the ancient Israelites, that he could not but indulge the supposition
of their affinity, and he adds, “the fatigue of his labour went
on more cheerfully, or at least the more hopefully, because of such
probabilities.”
with enraptur’d glance

Of gratitude intense, as mark’d the Seer

From Pisgah’s hallow’d cliff, the glorious scene

Of Israel’s heritage; tho’ o’er his path

The sable wings of Death’s dark angel wav’d

12(1)r

In shadowy gloom. Like that blest prototype,

Thou too didst strive to rend the tyrant chain

Of heathen bondage, urge the chrystal stream

Forth from the flinty rock, to famish’d souls

Impart the bread of Heaven; and as he bade

The writhing victims of the scorpion gaze

On their mysterious healer, thou didst point

The eye of Satan’s miserable prey

Up to the Crucified. Thou too didst give

The holy tables of th’ eternal Law,

Not with the awe of Sinai’s wrath announc’d,

Deep earthquakes, thund’ring voices, lightning’s flame

Insufferable; but silver’d with the tinge

Of the mild gospel’s brightness. From thy brow

Darted no beam unearthly, which the throng

Dar’d not approach, no mandate stern proclaim’d

“This do, or die:” but thy redeeming scroll

In gentler dispensation, meekly trac’d

With sacred pen, Note 4.— Line 82. “With sacred pen—” Mather, in his Magnalia, affirms, that Eliot completed the whole
translation of the Bible into the language of the Indians, entirely with one
pen
, which he consecrated to that holy office. After his acquisition of
this language, which was attended with many difficulties, he composed
a grammar of it, and translated such a number of treatises on Practical
Piety, that a small library was soon formed for those who had never
before seen their barbarous articulations arrested or arranged. Through
his instrumentality some of the most promising native youths were
educated at Cambridge, where they became regular graduates. For
their assistance in their preparatory studies, he translated some scientific
essays, and works explaining more abstruse points in Theology. But
what he had most at heart was an entire Indian bible. The New Testament,
which was printed in 16611661, with a dedication to King Charles
II
, was the first edition of the Scriptures ever published in America. A
Society for aiding in the propagation of the Gospel among our aborigines,
was about this period incorporated in London, and some letters are
preserved from the venerable Eliot, to the Hon. Robert Boyle, its
Governor, who had furnished some assistance in the expense of publishing
the Old Testament. In one of them the faithful and meek
Apostle, thus expresses his gratitude and his christian perseverance.
“Your charity hath greatly revived and refreshed us. The great work
that I now travail about is the printing of the Old Testament, that they
may have the whole Bible. They are importunately desirous of it. I
desire to see it done before I die, and I am already so deep in years,
that I cannot expect to live long. Besides, we have but one man, the 22* 22(3)v 258
Indian printer, who is able to compare the sheets, and correct the press,
with understanding. As soon as I received the sum of near £ 40 for
the bible work, I presently set it on foot, and am now in Leviticus. I
have added some part of my salary, to keep up the work, and many more
things I might mention, as reasons of my urgency in this matter.”
inspir’d the message kind,

“My children, love each other.”

Not in vain,

Apostle of the Gentiles! was thy toil,

Nor on the light breath of the erring winds

Thy supplications lost. The deep-drawn sigh

12 12(1)v 134

Of thy departing soul Note 5.— Line 87. “The deep-drawn sighOf thy departing soul.” The venerable Eliot attained a great age, and his exertions and example
were to the last consistent with ardent piety, and disinterested
benevolence. Like Polycarp, he might have said, “eighty and six years
have I served my Lord Jesus Christ.”
As his soul gently departed, his
expiring lips uttered the request, “Lord! revive and prosper thy gospel
among the Indians, and grant it to live when I am dead. How would
his pious spirit have rejoiced, could it have looked through the mists of
time, and traced the accomplishment of this fervent desire. Much had
been performed by him, for the spiritual instruction of the natives, the
correction of their vices; the establishment of family-prayer, and the
foundation of regular societies for religious worship. The first Church
ever gathered among the wanderers of the forest, was at Natick, in
16511651. Connected with this, was a humble attempt, at civil government;
for they were permitted to hold jurisdiction over slight offences.
Mr. Eliot assisted them in appointing rulers over hundreds, fifties and
tens, according to the model in the 18th of Exodus, which he explained
to his approving auditors. He gave them also the following form,
which may be considered as the first imitation of the ancient Theocracy
of Israel.”
“We are the sons of Adam, and with our forefathers have a long
time been lost in our sins. But now the mercy of God beginneth to
find us out. Therefore, the grace of Christ helping us, we do give
ourselves and our children unto God to be his people. He shall rule
all our affairs. The Lord is our Judge, the Lord is our Lawgiver, the
Lord is our King, he will save us. The wisdom which God hath taught
us in his book shall guide us. Oh! Jehovah, teach us wisdom. Send
thy spirit into our hearts. Take us to be thy people, and let us take
thee to be our God.”
rose with its flight

To the approving Throne, that God would grant

Thy churches in the wilderness to live,

When thou wert dead. Then other pious hearts

Pitied the outcasts; other guides appear’d

To lead the shepherdless. The Mayhews rose, Note 6.— Line 92. “The Mayhews rose.” The name of Mayhew, is still embalmed with gratitude, by the
remnant of aboriginal population on the island of Martha’s Vineyard.
The ministry of these benefactors of wretchedness commenced about
the year 16481648, in the person of the Rev. Thomas Mayhew, son to the
governor of that island. Both father and son had acquired the language
of the Indians, and upon the death of the latter in the ninth year of his
missionary labours, the venerable parent assumed the falling mantle of
the younger prophet, and until the advanced age of 93, continued his
spiritual instructions, and benevolent deeds to a despised race. Such
peculiar success attended their exertions, that 1500 natives were numbered
as the fruits of their holy toil. Others of their descendants inherited
the same disinterested and pious spirit, and condescended to seek
in the wilderness those lost sheep who had never heard the call of the
Shepherd, or the promise of a fold.

Clad in the armour of the Prince of Peace,

To cope with the proud spirit of the world,

Thron’d on high places. The poor Indians hail’d

Their holy footsteps, and the Island vine

Planted by them, in thick’ning clusters breath’d

Salvation’s fragrance.

Dying Mitark Note 7.— Line 98. “Dying Mitark.” One of the chief Sachems, or princes of Martha’s Vineyard, by the
name of Mitark, who had embraced christianity, died in the beginning of
the year 16831683. The day before his decease, Mr. John Mayhew, who
attended him, inquired concerning his hope, and the dying chief answered,
“I have hope in God, that when my soul departeth out of this body,
he will send his angels to conduct it to himself, and to dwell with Jesus
Christ
.”
Then with great earnestness he exclaimed, —“Where that
everlasting glory is! As for my reasons, I have had many wrongs of
enemies, of whom I have sought no revenge, neither retained evil in
thought, word, or deed. Therefore expect I the same from God. But
I proceed no further, for He is merciful. It is now seven nights since
I was taken sick, and not yet have I asked of God to live longer in this
world. Here are some benefits to be enjoyed, also many troubles to be
endured, yet with respect to the hope I have in God, am I willing to
die. Here am I in pain, there I shall be freed from all pain, and enjoy
the rest that never endeth.”
Pointing to his three daughters, he said 22(4)v 260
“and you my daughters, if you lose your father, mourn not for him. Rather
mourn for yourselves, and for your sins. Mourn not for me, though
you are unwilling to spare me, and I might be helpful to you by living
longer in this world, yet to die, is far better for me.”
Magnalia Christ:
Americani
. Vol. ii.
blest

Their faithful ministry, when his spent breath

Welcom’d that messenger which bore his soul

Where Mercy, higher than the sinner’s hope,

Prepares his mansion. Nor this Prince alone,

Bore witness to the ardour of their zeal;

Flocks sought their fold, and from the tempest’s pow’r

And lion’s wrath, found shelter. At their words,

Reasoning of righteousness, of temperance,

And judgment-doom, the fount of penitence

O’er rugged features pour’d a tearful tide Note 8.— Line 108. “—the fount of penitenceO’er rugged features pour’d a tearful tide.” It has been urged among the objections against sending the gospel
to our aborigines, that their prejudices and hardness of heart must
interpose insuperable obstacles to its progress. Yet the penitence and
humility with which they received the religious instructions of their
earlier teachers were remarkable. It was observed of the venerable
Eliot, that his heart was affected, “to see what floods of tears fell from
the eyes of those degenerate savages, yea, from the worst of them all,
at the first addresses which he made to them.”
A contemporary divine,
who had witnessed their mode of worship, states, “we saw and heard them
perform their duties with such grave and sober countenances, such
comely reverence in their gesture, and whole carriage, and with such
plenty of tears trickling down the cheeks of many of them, as did argue
that they felt the holy fear of God and it much affected our hearts.”

New and profuse. Thus gush’d in later days,

12(2)r 135

In rapid course, the heart’s unwonted stream,

Washing white channels down the dusky cheeks

Of Cornwall’s collier throng, when Whitfield’s voice

With daring eloquence, first taught the soul

To startle at her danger. Thus they toil’d,

In happy unison. But from the Sire

The Son is sever’d. His majestic form

Veil’d in dim distance, drooping seems to pass

’Neath the devouring wave. Note 9.— Line 118. “His majestic formVeil’d in dim distance, drooping seems to pass
’Neath the devouring wave.”
The Rev. Thomas Mayhew, Jun. the first of that benevolent family
who commenced preaching to the natives, undertook a voyage to England,
in 16471647, on business connected with his mission. But no intelligence
of the vessel in which he embarked, was ever received. This
affliction was deeply deplored by his family, by the church, and by the
grateful Indians whose affections he had so strongly engaged, that for
many years his name was seldom mentioned even by the younger and
more thoughtless of them without tears. May we not apply to this
excellent and lamented man, those beautiful lines in Milton’s Lycidas? 22(5)r 261 “Thus sinks the day-star in the Ocean-bed! But then anon repairs his drooping head, And tricks his beams, and with new-spangled ore Flames in the forehead of the eastern sky. Thus Lycidas sank low, but mounted high Through the dear might of Him who walk’d the waves.”
With hoary locks

Swept by the winds, the lonely father roves,

Pale, in suspended Hope, while his fix’d eye

Questions th’ unanswering surge. But faith uplifts

That eye, mild whisp’ring what sustain’d the heart

Of Nazianzen’s sire,

“Thy son hath gone,

To take possession of that fair estate

Which thou hast gain’d in Heaven.”

The natives wept

O’er their kind Prophets’ graves; but the wild blast

Rent not their falling mantle. Others wrapt

Its silvery folds around them, and imbib’d

Its hidden spirit. Brainerd woke in youth, Note 10.— Line 129. “Brainerd woke in youth.” The labours of the distinguished missionary to the aborigines of our
country, the hardships, the self-devotion, the depths of humility, the
high aspirations of piety, which his short period of twenty nine years
comprised, are familiar to every mind versed in the history of man’s
benevolence to man. His creed was founded on what the venerable
Dr. Milner styles “the primitive tastes of christianity, to believe, to
suffer, and to love.”
Among the trophies of his victory, by which
having past the gates of death, he “yet speaketh,” may we not number
the event, that from the perusal of his life, sprang that emulation which
“baptized by prayer,” dictated the choice, and sublimated the career of
Henry Martyn? The closing sentences of Sargent, his animated biographer,
will express the merits of that distinguished man, whose memory
is embalmed in the churches. “Martyn followed the steps of Zeigenbalg
in the old world, and of Brainerd in the new; and while he walks
with them in white, for he is worthy, he speaks, by his example, to us
who are still in our warfare and pilgrimage on earth. For surely as
long as England shall be celebrated for that pure and apostolical Church,
of which he was so great an ornament; as long as India shall prize
that which is more precious to her than all her gems and gold, the name
of the subject of this memoir, as a translator of the Scriptures and of
the Liturgy, will not wholly be forgotten: and while some shall delight
to gaze upon the splendid sepulchre of Xavier, and others choose rather
to ponder over the granite stone which covers all that is mortal of
Swartz, there will not be wanting those who will think of the humble
and unfrequented grave of Henry Martyn, and be led to imitate those
works of mercy which have followed him into the world of light and love.”

To search for the neglected, and to lead

The wandering blind. His self-devoting zeal

Shrunk not at hardship, at the withering blast

12(2)v 136

Of wan Disease, at Disappointment’s frown,

Nor at those deeper sorrows which depress

The mourning soul, when thro’ impervious gloom

She seeks that Everlasting Friend, who seems

To have forsaken her. Around his life

Strong bonds by friendship and by love were drawn,

But rising o’er those ties, the list’ning youth

Heard ’mid the silence of his midnight prayer

The angel’s salutation, “Spirit, rise!

Pure Spirit; haste to us!” and who could blame

The mortal, if that seraph melody

Prevail’d?

Nor yet did early days confine

That generous ardour. Like the rushing wind

And tongue of flame, those high mysterious gifts

Of Pentecost, it rested on a few,

And mark’d them from the world.

Heckewelder toil’d,

Girt with his Master’s patience, Note 11.— Line 149. “Heckewelder toil’d,Girt with his Master’s patience.” The work entitled An account of the history, manners and customs
of the Indian Nations, who once inhabited Pennsylvania, and the neighbouring
states,
by the Rev. John Heckewelder of Bethlehem, sufficiently
proves the compassionate interest which had prompted the exertions,
and directed the pen of the Author. “In what I have written,”
he affirms, “concerning the character, customs, manners and usages of
this people, I cannot have been deceived, since it is the result of personal
knowledge, what I have myself seen, heard, and witnessed while residing
among and near them, for more than thirty years.”
Of the Lenni
Lenapi
, or Delaware tribe, he has collected a great number of interesting
facts. These were the natives who first received the European settlers
upon the island of New York, welcoming their arrival with an alacrity
and reverence, which the gift of prescience would have changed into
aversion and terror. Mr. Heckewelder, after describing the extent of
territory and degree of prosperity which they then enjoyed, says, “On
a sudden they are checked in their career, by a phenomenon they had
till then never beheld; immense canoes arriving at their shores, filled
with people of a different colour, language, dress and manners, from
themselves. In their astonishment they call out to one another, ‘Behold!
the Gods are come to visit us!’
They at first considered these wonderful
beings as messengers of peace, sent from the abode of the Great Spirit,
and therefore employed their time in preparing and making sacrifices to
that Great Being, who had so highly honoured them. Lost in amazement,
fond of enjoyment of this novel spectacle, and anxious to know
the result, they were unmindful of those matters which hitherto had taken
up their minds, and formed the object of their pursuits; they thought
of nothing else but the wonders which now struck their eyes, and were
constantly employed in endeavouring to divine this great mystery. Such
is the manner in which they relate that event: the strong impression of
which is not yet obliterated from their minds.”
while slow years

Stamp’d changes on his brow. Kind Advocate

Of the despis’d Lenape thou didst dare

Like Howard, bold philanthropist, to “take

Misery’s dimensions, and the guage of scorn,

Depression and contempt, to seek the cell

12(3)r 137

Of the forsaken, and with pitying heart

Remember the forgotten.”

Mid the band

Who visited the desolate, and bore

Glad tidings to the lost, one Man of God

Journey’d at closing day. Deep shadows stretch’d

Their length’ning cones to veil his vent’rous path,

And in stern majesty, those stately oaks,

Whose interwoven branches sought the clouds,

Frown’d darker still. The silence of his path

Invited lonely musing, and the truths

Of his blest mission, passing o’er his heart,

Gave joy to solitude. But a rude sound

Disturb’d his meditations, as the gale

Of Summer’s sudden wrath disperses wide

The flowers, whose petals tranquilly were clos’d

Around their dewy treasures. Wild it rush’d

From a high cliff, which like some ruin’d arch

Seem’d with its mould’ring pediment to threat

Th’ unwary traveller.

From that steep which seem’d

No path for human foot, fierce, heavy steps

Came boldly down. The thicket foliage parts,

And thro’ the sever’d curtain stalk’d a form

12* 12(3)v 138

Of mighty size. Not with a prouder port

Rush’d red King Philip to the battle strife,

Hurling defiance. His distorted brow

Seem’d scath’d with lightning, tho’ his temples bore

The frosts of Age. His giant arm he rear’d

In threat’ning gesture, while a hollow voice

Utter’d its thunders――

“Whither goest thou?

Son of the Ocean foam!” Note 12.— Line 184. “Whither goest thou?Son of the Ocean foam!” “The Indians at first imagined that the white men originally sprang
from the sea, and invaded their country, because they had none of their
own. They sometimes called them in their songs, the white foam
of the Ocean,
and this name is still applied contemptuously by the
aborigines of the North-West.”
Prophet of Alleghany.

“I go, to speak

Salvation to thy race, and bear the word

That breathes good will and peace.” Indignant fire,

Flashing from the grim Chieftain’s eye, announc’d

His kindled wrath――

“What peace thou bring’st I know!

Such as we found, when from thy serpent glance

We shrunk away, and all our countless tribes 190

Faded, like morning mist. Good-will thou bear’st?

We find it in the grave! It marshals there

Our murder’d warriors. There was once a time

Of happiness for Indians, ere thy race

Invaded their retreat. Freely they roam’d

Hunting the beaver, and the dun wild deer

In their own forests. Then thy fathers sprang

12(4)r 139

Forth from the slippery surge, and their pale brows

Smote us like pestilence. Infernal arms

They wielded, like the thunder-bolt surcharg’d 200

With fatal fires. In war, we were their prey,

As beasts for slaughter, and in peace their sport,

The victims of their poison. Mighty Chiefs

And fearless hunters, who like blasts had swept

The trembling mountains, dar’d th’ unequal fight

And perish’d. Our degen’rate race became

Slaves to intemperance, hiding in disgrace

A wither’d name. Hence then, contagious man!

Leave us what still is ours! Leave us our gods,

Our savage virtues! Leave the blighted hopes 210

That cling around our hearts! Spare these rude plants,

Those only wrecks that have withstood the storm

Of your destructive friendship.”

In dark shades

Vanish’d the Chief majestic, with such speed

As whirlwinds trace the desert. Calmly past

The man of God, revolving with meek thought

His holy purpose, while a pray’r besought

Strength ’gainst the potent Spirit of the Air,

Who, like a Prince, doth rule the wayward sons

Of disobedience. As the Shepherd seeks

12(4)v 140

The lost and wandering sheep, this good man sought

The scatter’d Senecas; with tender zeal,

Or admonition blent with terror, strove

To rouse the stupid, to alarm the bold,

T’ illume the ignorant. A little flock,

Drawn from the wilderness, his call obey’d,

Following his footsteps in the patient course

Of Christian duty. Forty moons had shed

A varying lustre o’er their shelter’d path,

From verdant pasture to translucent stream,

Where their souls found repose.

At length, a cloud

Involv’d their sanctu’ry; its simple court

Was desolate. None enter’d there with songs

Of sacred joy, no kneeling sufferer sigh’d

In penitence: but solitary sat

Their pensive Pastor, while the Sabbath call

No more was heeded. Now and then he mark’d

Some lonely wanderer, stealing near the spot

Which prayer had hallow’d, gazing as in grief,

Then gliding slow away. Thus the sad race

Of subjugated Judah, bent the glance

Of speechless, hopeless, agonizing woe,

On that beloved city, which their step

12(5)r 141

Dar’d not approach. Note 13.— Line 244. “On that beloved city, which their stepDar’d not approach.” “The remnant of the Jewish nation having again rebelled, Adrian
compeleted the destruction of what Titus had left standing in ancient
Jerusalem. On the ruins of the city of David, he erected another town,
to which he gave the name of Ælia Capitolinus; he forbade the Jews
to enter it upon pain of death, and caused the figure of a bog, in
sculpture, to be placed upon the gate leading to Bethlehem. St.
Gregory Nazianzen
nevertheless relates, that the Jews were permitted
to enter Ælia once a year to give vent to their sorrows; and St. Jerome
adds that they were forced to purchase at an exorbitant price the right
of shedding tears over the ashes of their country.”
Chateaubriand’s
Travels, in Greece, Palestine, Egypt and Barbary.
The wond’ring Teacher sought

His erring charge, and with an anxious zeal

Painted the terrors of the day of God

To those who slight his mercy, who reject

The knowledge of salvation. Struck with awe

The recreants wept, but ling’ring doubt maintain’d

A darken’d influence.

――“Ah!” they cried, “fierce wrath

Burneth against us. Deeply have we wrong’d

Our Fathers’ God. From those tremendous cliffs

Where Alleghany wounds the streaming cloud,

A Prophet hath he sent, denouncing woe

On us Apostates. Our sad chiefs have nam’d

A day of audience, when this fearful man

Bearing his message, shall denounce the ire

Of the great Spirit.” The meek Teacher paus’d.

Rememb’ring how the servants, one by one,

Forsook his master and his Lord, who stood

Abandon’d and alone.

Then he replied

In that kind tone, with which griev’d Love reproves;—

“I to this audience go, if ye permit;

I, all deserted by my cherish’d flock

Will meet the Prophet, and declare the words

12(5)v 142

Of the Chief Shepherd.” The appointed time

Arriv’d, when sceptic Fear no more might halt

Between the Christian’s God, and that false name

Whom Pagans worship. Church, nor council-house

Might hold the multitude, Note 14.— Line 270. “Church nor council-houseMight hold the multitude.” The assembly who were to hear this interesting question decided,
met in a beautiful vale, about eight miles to the westward of the Seneca
Lake
, on the 1802-06-1212th of June 1802. The tribe of Senecas, or Senekas,
originally belonged to that powerful confederation of Mohawks, Oneidas,
Onondagas, and Cayugas, which existed at the first arrival of the
Europeans. They now inhabit the territory on the banks of the Gennesee
river
; and the eastern shores of Lake Erie; and among their peculiar 22(6)v 264
customs which point to ancient Israel, is that of annually sacrificing a
white dog, as if in rude imitation of the paschal lamb. The celebrated
orator, Red Jacket, belongs to them; but his name in their language
is far more appropriate than this vulgar appellation, being Tsckuycaathaw,
or “the Man who keeps you awake”.
so vast a throng

Came flocking to behold th’ important die

Cast, that involv’d their fate. Gay Summer’s pride

Had rob’d an ample vale, whose circling bound

Was crown’d by hills. There graceful foliage droop’d,

And o’er its bosom wound a limpid stream,

Like sparkling, chrystal zone. Thither they went.

Beneath the shade of an embow’ring elm

Whose pendant branches met the silent tide,

The Chieftains rang’d. Deep thought was on their brow,

As those whose minds revolv’d a nation’s fate.

The people gather’d near, with anxious looks

Regarding their wise men, when the mute gaze

Of agoniz’d suspense, seem’d to inquire

“Which was the God?” as wavering Pilate’s lips

Demanded, “What is Truth?”

Lone in the midst

Of this wild circle, with unruffled brow

Sat the good Missionary. Age and Toil

Had set their signet on him. Travel and Care

12(6)r 143

Trac’d channels for the tear, and furrow’d deep

Those sunken temples, where a few white hairs

Spread their disrupted shield.

An hope sublime

Beam’d from his lifted eye, which seem’d in prayer

Fix’d and expectant, that the God of Truth

Would vindicate his servant. Silence reign’d

Breathless and long, save where the trembling boughs

Sigh’d to the south-wind, or the rippling tide

Half murmur’d. Suddenly a smother’d sound

Like deep Astonishment, or moaning Fear,

Broke from the multitude. Down the rough steep

Was seen descending a tremendous form

With frantic haste. His lifted hand he wav’d

Commanding silence, and the wailing ceas’d,

As if in Death. With countenance serene

The Missionary mark’d him, and beheld

In Alleghany’s Seer, the same stern Chief

Who with mysterious step had cross’d his path

In Tuscarora’s forests. The same skin

Of the wild panther from his shoulders hung

In careless drapery, quivered in his hand

The same keen tomahawk, from his red eye

12(6)v 144

Darted the same malignant glance, inflam’d

With rage like frenzy. Chill’d to icy awe

The natives listen’d, while the valley rang

With his hoarse voice, “Men of the Forest! Hear!

Thus saith the Mighty Spirit. Ye were mine,

But have forsaken me. Once o’er this land

Your fathers reign’d, lords of the treasur’d deep,

And of the peopled forest. To their sons

They left the inheritance. But I behold

Steps of Usurpers desolate those paths, 320

And hear your hunting-fields resound the stroke

Of their destructive axe! Why have ye fled

From the delights of the luxuriant shore

To swamps and barren hills? crouching to hold

Ev’n this polluted pittance, at the will

Of the vile white Man! To my ears no more

Rises the shout of war from Hudson’s banks,

Or revelry from Mohawk’s silver tide.

There, where your Fathers, free as the wild winds,

That rock’d their mountains, dwelt, the Christian slave

Drives his deep furrow, whistling as he turns 331

Forth from the trembling, violated grave,

Their sacred relics. Have ye never heard

13(1)r 145

At closing day, or in the solemn watch

Of midnight, a melodious, plaintive strain

Stealing from lonely vale, or hillock side,

Like Echo’s cadence? ’Twas the wailing tone

Of your departed fathers; they whose bones

These merciless invaders have to bleach

By tempest and by blast. It calls their sons 340

By deeds of righteous vengeance to restore

The wand’ring spirit to its bow’rs of bliss:

For there it may not rest, if aught disturb

The mouldering body’s sleep, or violate

Its sepulchre. This voice invokes the brave,

The mighty, the invincible, in vain;

For none are left. Behold! what glorious gifts

Ye owe to white men. What good-will and peace

They shed upon you! Exile and the sword!

Poisons and rifled sepulchres! and see! 350

They fain would fill the measure of their guilt

With the dark chest of that accursed faith

Whose precepts justify their nameless crimes,

Your countless woes. Hearken, deluded race!

Hearken, for the last time! If ye persist

Thus to desert my altars, thus to choose

With mad credulity th’ oppressor’s God,

13 13(1)v 146

And follow Him, my wrath shall follow you.

My forked lighnings ’mid your blazing towns

Fiercely shall dart, and Winter’s warring blast 360

Devour the fugitives. Intemperance

Shall bloat your frames, gaunt Famine thin your ranks,

Till the surviving wretches, plunging deep

And deeper in the wild, submit to hold

Communion with the dastard beasts that fled

Their father’s arrows. From the blissful isle

In that pure lake, where happy spirits hold

Eternal pastime, thro’ unfading fields

Hunting the gaily-branched deer, with dogs

Swifter than light, from thence the blasting curse 370

Shall fall on you. Ah! fear ye not the eye

Of your great ancestors—that with’ring glance

Which drinks the spirit up? By lightning’s flame,

By thunder’s voice, by tempest’s wrath, I swear,

That in the space of sixty hasting moons,

Not one of all the Senecas, not one

Of you who hear me, one of these your babes,

Nor kindred, shall be found upon the face

Of the wide earth.”

He ceas’d, and mingled sounds

Like the hoarse rush of waters and of winds,

13(2)r 147

Rose from the multitude. Distorting Fear

Dealt her deep ague; clamorous Ignorance

Moan’d in convulsions; Superstition glar’d

As if the death-groans of the threaten’d tribe

Already bursting on her wounded ear

Transfix’d her soul with agony; while Rage,

Kindled with breath of fiery Eloquence,

Made rashness mad. Headlong the boldest rush’d

From the torn circle, to demand the blood

Of the good Missionary. Calm he met

Their fatal purpose, nor essay’d to shun

Their iron grasp――

“Father! if thus thy voice

Call’st thy weak servant from his weary toil,

Thy will be done! Thy hand will gird his heart

To meet its martyrdom.”

Perchance the light

Which round his temples play’d, was that which beam’d

On holy Stephen’s brow, when he beheld

Entranc’d, the op’ning heavens, and Jesus Christ

Sitting at God’s right hand. But the grave Chiefs

Forbade th’ unrighteous deed, and with a word

Rescued the victim. Forth the Man of God

Came, as in act to speak. His sacred form

13(2)v 148

Beat for a moment in Devotion’s warmth

Of gratitude to Heaven, his clasping hands

Prest on his bosom, while his mien exprest

That perfect peace, which the world’s smile gives not,

Nor can her frown destroy. Near him in wrath

Stood Alleghany’s prophet. It might seem

Almost, as if in solemn contrast rose,

Ebal, the mount of cursing, tow’ring dark

O’er the appall’d assembly, while the breast

Of fruitful Gerizim thro’ waving shades

Sigh’d blessings on th’ obedient.

That faint smile

Divinely casting intellectual light

O’er the pale features of the Man of God,

Blent with his eye’s unearthly glance, convey’d

Tranquil monition that he soon should bid

Farewell to ills of Time. Then ere he spake,

Upon his foes a deep regard he cast

Of mild forgiveness; as our Saviour turn’d

And look’d on Peter. Unresisted chains

Of silence bound the circle, while a voice

Of sweetest modulation, sonorous,

Tender or plaintive, as the varying theme

Requir’d, broke forth――

13(3)r 149

“Ah! would that I could speak

So that ye would believe, of the true God,

Whose eye is ever on us, and whose ear

Heareth our secret thoughts. His hand ye trace

In mercy on the beauteous earth; his pow’r

Ye cannot comprehend, for He alone 430

Is infinite. Would that my feeble mind

Could paint his Heav’n, so that ye all might seek

That blest abode, where dwell the pure in heart;

For there dire Winter comes not, sultry heat,

Nor withering famine, pain, nor parting tear,

Sickness, nor ghaastly death. There the free soul

Shall drink of boundless, everlasting bliss

When yonder sun must fall, and this fair sky

Parch like a shrivell’d scroll. Ye too have heard

Of that dire place which Justice hath prepar’d 440

For vile, rebellious spirits. There are tears,

Wailings, unceasing groans, and tortures dire,

And troubled tossings like th’ unresting sea,

While the far echoes of the songs of Heaven

Steal o’er the gulf impassable, and wake

Hopeless remorse. Think, O my brethren, think!

Of Him who freely gave his life, that Man

Might scape this sorrow, and obtain that bliss.

13* 13(3)v 150

Remember ye his lot of homeless woe?

His uncomplaining, unreviling life? 450

The thorns that pierc’d him, the deep-wounding spear?

For ye have heard his sufferings, and have wept

In better days, that He for you should bleed.

Yes! ye have knelt to thank and bless that God

Who so had lov’d the world, that he should give

His only Son to save it. Ye have said

That the wild savage roaming on in blood,

Blindness, and vengeful passions, till dark life

Sunk in a darker grave, bereft of hope,

Was far less happy than the humble saint 460

Bowing in patience to the bond which curbs

His sinful spirit, and with active hand

Pouring out Love on Hatred, till it melt,

And be no more remember’d. Ye have joy’d

To hear, that he might lead his little ones

Through light and knowledge to eternal rest.

Have ye not seen him grateful for this life,

Yet undismay’d at death? His spirit lov’d

The blest assurance that its short eclipse

Should fleet before the resurrection morn; 470

Therefore he slept in hope. Ye soon must yield

Your bodies to the worm: Oh! then believe

13(4)r 151

What ye have once believ’d, for that was truth.

Behold, as the frail Day-beam hastes to lay

Its fainting head on Twilight’s dusky lap,

So fades our life. Return, ye wand’ring flock

That He, who is so plenteous to forgive,

May turn to you. And now, Eternal Judge!

What wait I for? Look thou upon my heart,

And see if love for those whom thou hast made 480

Led me from sweet delights of home, to bear

Here in my age, when Nature seeks repose,

Journeyings and watchings in the wilderness,

Perils and dangers. Thou alone canst read

The Missionary’s motive, which the world

Oft misinterprets. Lord, into thy hand

Commend I thine own cause.”

Bowing he ceas’d,

But Silence listn’d: fond Expectancy

Still linger’d mute, so soothing fell the balm

On harrow’d bosoms. Thus the genial show’r

And holy dew, refresh the sterile earth

Parch’d by long drought, or by tornado stript

Of her young verdure. O’er rough features mark’d

By recent passions, stole the contrite tear,

Strange, yet unheeded. Long the Chieftains held

13(4)v 152

Their solemn conclave, ere the question high

Might be decided. ’Mid that awful pause,

Fears, apprehensions, terrors, anxious hopes,

Convuls’d the throng. The second hour had drawn

Its tardy length, when from the council came

Its hoariest Chieftain. On his head he bore

The crown of Age, and leaning on his staff

Utter’d the words of wisdom!――

“That great God,

Whom Christians call Jehovah, is more just,

Mighty, benificent, worthy of praise,

Than him your Fathers worshipp’d. So receive

The Christian’s God: and in his servant view

Your guide to Heaven.”

Then, the adoring tribe,

As a thick forest to some mighty wind

Pays universal rev’rence, bow’d the head

And worshipp’d God. Thus witness’d Carmel’s mount

Such solemn homage, when in ancient time

Backsliding Israel saw the priests of Baal

Humbled, and awful fires confirm the claim

Of the majestic Prophet: He who stood

Lonely and fearless, to confront the wrath

Of impious Jezebel’s demoniac throng,

13(5)r 153

He, who on car of flame, like glowing star

High o’er the empyrean rising, mark’d

A glorious path, shunning the gloomy gates

Of Death’s dark confine.

When that hoary Chief

Had utter’d the decree, who may describe

What fierce demoniac rage possest the Seer

Of Alleghany? His red eye-ball roll’d

As if in torment, while thro’ gnashing teeth

He strove with madd’ning impotence to force

The curse unutterable, and bounding high

With brandish’d Tomahawk, as if he scorn’d

The soil of such apostates, disappear’d

Mid the deep forest shadows. .

13(5)v 154

Canto Fifth.

Joys not the Mariner

When on the midnight of his trackless course

Mid rocks and quicksands of a coast unknown

The far-seen light-house beams a star of hope

Into his soul? Upon the Mourner’s tear,

When Resignation sheds her holiest dew,

Rises there not a trembling messenger

Of Joy, because the passing storm hath wav’d

Its wing in peace? When to the humble Saint

Whose pilgrimage was darkness, whose weak Faith

Scarce saw a twilight which the hand of Fear

Rob’d not in gloom, the vale of Death displays

Eternal Glory’s never-setting sun――

Is there not Joy? Oh! then exult for them,

That abject race, who o’er the storms of life,

The sight of sorrow, and the hopeless tomb,

Beheld Salvation’s radiance. O’er the wild

Where Paganism long triumph’d, rearing high

His desolating ensign, the pure Cross

13(6)r 155

Extends its arms, and kneeling at its foot

The Indian hymns his Maker. Sweet that tone

Ascends from the lone forest, where conven’d

Beneath their chapel’s dedicated dome

Oneida’s natives pay their vows to God. Note 1.— Line 23. “Beneath their chapel’s dedicated domeOneida’s natives pay their vows to God.” The church here alluded to, is one of the Episcopal order, established
in the Oneida tribe, where Mr. Eleazar Williams officiates as Catechist
and Lay Reader. Interesting accounts of its prosperity, particularly of the
devotion of the worshippers in their public service, the regularity of their
responses, and the melody of their singing, are related by those who
have visited them. This chuch belongs to the Diocess of the Right
Rev. Bishop Hobart
, and the following notice of its consecration is
copied from the Christian Journal of 1819-10October 1819.
“On Tuesday last, the Chapel erected for the Oneida Indians, at
Oneida Castle, was consecrated by the Bishop, receiving the name of
St. Peter’s church. Fifty-six Indians who had previously been prepared
for that purpose by their Instructor, Mr. E Williams, received confirmation,
and at the visit of Bishop Hobart last year, ninety-four were
confirmed. Too much praise cannot be bestowed upon the exertions
and pious zeal of Mr. Williams, in his successful efforts to bring into
the Christian Church these infidel brethren; for when he arrived among
them, two or three years ago, more than half of the Oneidas were of that 23 23(1)v 266
character.”
Missionaries have been repeatedly employed among this
tribe, and the late Rev. Mr. Kirkland, (father of the President of
Harvard University, Cambridge,) who long discharged the duties of that
vocation with zeal and ability, thus speaks of their religious belief,
and that of the other nations with whom they where confederated.
“The region of pure spirits, the Five Nations call Eskanane. According
to their tradition there is a gloomy fathomless gulph, near the
borders of the delightful mansions of Eskanane, over which all good and
brave spirits pass with safety, under the conduct of a faithful and skilfull
guide appointed for the purpose, but when those of other characters
approach the gulph, the conductor who possesses a most penetrating
eye, instantly discovers their spiritual features, and denies them his aid,
assigning his reasons. They will however attempt to cross upon a small
pole, which before they reach the middle trembles and shakes, till presently
down they fall, with horrid shrieks. In this dreary gulph they
suppose resides a great dog or dragon, perpetually restless and spiteful.
Sometimes the guilty inhabitants of these miserable regions approach
so near the happy fields of Eskanane, as to hear the songs and dances
of their former companions; but this only serves to increase their torments,
as they can discern no light, or discover any passage by which
they can gain access to them.”
The Tuscaroras have affinity with the Oneidas, and resemble them
in most of their traditions and customs. Missionaries have been occasionally
sent to them, and the exercises of a Sabbath, as conducted in
the church under the instruction of the Rev. Mr. Crane, is thus described
by a literary and liberal minded English gentleman, who has
travelled extensively in the United States. “On my visit to the cataract
of Niagara, in 18211821, I passed with great pleasure a Sunday, with
the Tuscaroras in the vicinity. With their devotion during the services
I was particularly impressed. Some of them who approached the church
during a heavy rain, observing it to be the time of prayer, remained
without, unsheltered, till prayers were finished. Their minister by the
aid of an interpreter, gave them a sermon of such impressive simplicity,
that the whole of it remained upon my memory. But when the tunes
of Old Hundred and Plymouth burst forth in strains of perfect melody,
I could scarcely restrain my feelings. Afterwards, a grey-headed chief, 23(2)r 267
leaning upon his staff, addressed our Father in Heaven. In his supplication,
he asked that the stranger who had come from over the great
waters, might be preserved on his return to his home, and be blessed
for feeling an interest in poor Indians. The deportment of these sons
of the forest, and the influence of the whole scene, was so forcibly
affecting, that I found it impossible to refrain from tears.”

There they adore that Name, which from the dawn

Of the Sun’s brightness, to the farthest bound

Of his remote declension, shall be great

Among the Gentiles. There with raptur’d voice

Ascribe high praises for the means of grace,

And hopes of glory. There, confess with shame

That as the wandering sheep forsakes the fold,

They all have stray’d; and there His aid invoke

Who the deep sighing of the contrite heart

Despises not, nor scorns the humble tear

Of Penitence. There supplicate their Lord

By his deep agony, his bloody sweat,

His cross and passion, by his precious death,

Burial and resurrection, to behold

And spare them in his mercy. There present

To the baptismal font their tender babes;

And, kneeling round a Saviour’s table, pay

Homage to Him who in his boundless love

Appointed such remembrance. When the rod

13(6)v 156

Of Sickness rests upon them, holy prayers

From consecrated lips beseech of God

To strengthen by his Spirit, the decay

Of that which perisheth, and grant the soul

Remission of its sins, ere it depart

To be on earth no more. And, when the lamp

Of frail mortality is quench’d, when man,

Who like the fleeting shadow ne’er abides

In one continued stay, when he who comes

Forth as a flow’ret to the blushing morn

Ere the quick-hasting hour of eve, returns

Ashes to ashes—o’er the mould’ring wreck

Hope lifts her banner, cloudless as the light,

Bright with these characters of heavenly truth:

――The slumberer shall awake; the unseal’d eye

See its Redeemer; and although the worm

Destroy this body, yet the dust shall rise

To Immortality.

Hail, holy hearts!

Who, fill’d with pure benevolence, rejoice

That the green olive decks the rugged brows

Of the dark forest children, let that zeal

Which prompts for them your charity, unite

The useful arts of life with love divine,

14(1)r 157

Gifts for this world, with knowlege of the next.

Take lessons from Creation; from the skill

Of the Eternal, who hath bound so strict

Body with mind. Thou strong, mysterious chain!

Linking dull matter to the viewless, pure,

And subtle spirit, dost thou not instruct

Us in our bounty not to disunite

Terrestrial and divine? Those secret flames,

Which guided Gideon’s darkly hostile path,

Were hid in earthen caskets: thus the soul

Hath no unmix’d ascendancy, till death,

Rending the veil of clay, bids her return

To her creative essence. Wisdom’s hand

Heweth out pillars, when she rears the house

Whose dome is for the skies: Note 2.— Line 80. “Wisdom’s handHeweth out pillars, when she rears the houseWhose arch is for the skies.” “Wisdom hath builded her house, she hath hewn out her seven
pillars.”
INTERNAL ERROR. Please report to wwp@neu.edu that regMe is unmatched.Proverbs ix, 1. This inspired metaphor of the royal teacher,
may among other sources of instruction, permit an application to our
present subject. If in the most sublime truths of christianity, may be
traced an adaptation to our grosser frame, a recognition at once of our
infirmities, and our needs; does it not become us in our erection of a
spiritual temple among the heathen, to imitate the “wisdom that is from
above,”
and to suffer its foundation to rest upon the earth, since its
service is for the benefit of those who are “from the earth, earthy?”
Perhaps the failure of most of our early attempts to convert the aborigines
may be traced to inattention in connecting the advantages of civilization
with the blessings of christianity. Their success in many instances
was conspicuous, but the adjunct was wanting, which could impress
on the character of a roving people, the feature of permanence. Individuals
were made solemn, purified, and, we trust, gathered to the family
of the redeemed; but the multitude required from christianity, a visible
pledge that she was divine. Like the Jews, they “sought after a sign,
yet not even the sign of the prophet Jonas”
was given them, who after
immersion in the deep for a time, was raised to liberty and light. The
arts of civilized society, would have convinced their reasoning powers
that the tree which bore good fruits was good; and to the wretched
numbers who have perished for want of sustenance would have been as
“life from the dead.”
“We are hungry and naked,” say the Chippeways in their speech to
Governor Cass, “we are thirsty and needy. We hope you will relieve 23(2)v 268
us. The President of the United States is like a lofty pine upon the
mountain’s top. You are also a great man. The Americans are
a great people. Can it be possible they will allow us to suffer?”

Schoolcraft, who traces his personal observations among our natives,
with the pen of a master, remarks, that “the savage mind, habituated
to sloth, is not easily roused into a state of moral activity, nor at
once capable of embracing and understanding the sublime truths and
doctrines of the evangelical law. It is necessary that letters, arts,
and religion, should go hand in hand.”
The younger President
Edwards
, whose knowledge of the customs and language of our aborigines,
particularly of the Stockbridge tribe, is well known to have been
extensive, points out as the only method of securing their loyalty to
government, “the prosecution of the design of thoroughly instructing
them in the true religion, and of educating their children to useful
knowledge.”
The process of turning them from hunting and fishing
to husbandry, must of necessity be slow; yet it seems that it would not
be impossible to lead from the beauty and comforts of harvest, up to
the Giver of Good, those souls which had been accustomed even through
darkness and ignorance, to “see God in clouds, or hear him in the
wind.”
Yet those roving minds require to be arrested by the certainty
of present good, before they will renounce vicious gratifications for the
hope of futurity. A religion which recommends itself by teaching them
to guards against the famine, the storm, and the “pestilence walking in
darkness,”
furnishes their conviction with a strong proof, that it is able
to provide a shelter in the day of wrath, and a refuge when all earthly
habitations are dissolved. To vanquish their doubts of the excellency
of doctrines, it is necessary to ameliorate their condition, and to remove
their ignorance. To the force of the first argument, the child, and the
Chieftain of hoary hairs, are alike accessible: the last, must appeal
chiefly to the rising generation whose intellect, unshackled by long
habit, is docile to the voice of instruction. Wisely, therefore, have our
recent missionaries applied themselves to the education of children:
and wisely are they permitting their system to embrace agriculture, with
the domestic and mechanic arts. Thus, they open a new era in the
history of that divine compassion, which during the lapse of two centuries,
has often awakened to toil for our aborigines, yet as often wept 23(3)r 269
that her toil has been in vain. Thus are they taking the most effectual
method to arrest the fugitives in their rapid progress to the grave, by
causing not only the dark forest to resound with the praises of Jehovah,
but also the “wilderness and the solitary place to blossom as the rose.”
and thus a prop

Might e’en sublime Christianity receive

From her more earthly sisters; from the arm

Of simple agriculture, from the toil

Of patient industry, from every art

That sheds a charm on life. Behold the plan

Of Wisdom heeded; see a sacred band

In our own days bear to the darken’d wild

Those blended rays which cheer man’s path below,

Yet light it to the skies.

14 14(1)v 158

Blest were the steps

Of these propitious heralds o’er the vales

Of wat’ry Tennessee, raptur’d their tone

Proclaiming liberty to the sad souls

Bound in the prison-house. Humbly they went,

Like Him who pour’d the gospel’s pardoning voice

On publicans and sinners, mild forgave

Guilt at whose sight the accusing Pharisee

High rais’d the fatal stone, and shed that tear

Which sanctions human grief, o’er the clos’d grave

Of Bethany. Meek to their mission bow’d

These teachers like their Lord; yet not like Him,

Who had not where to lay his head, were scorn’d.

He came unto his own, bearing the seal

Of mercy, but their sacreligious hands

Refus’d the gift, and madly crucified

The Giver; they with grateful joy were hail’d

By the sad stranger’s moaning on the wild Note 3.— Line 106. “—they with grateful joy were hail’dBy the sad stranger’s moaning on the wild.” If any claim to religious instruction can be founded on strong solicitude
to receive it, the aborigines upon our borders have instituted that
claim, and confirmed it by ardent gratitude for that measure of the gift
which has been imparted. In this respect they exhibit a strong contrast
to most of the Asiatic heathen, to whom the gospel has been sent. The
reluctance of the Hindoos to listen to, or submit their children to a
system which would sap the foundation of preconceived idolatry, is feelingly
described by Henry Martyn. In the course of only a few pages,
the following passages occur, and others of the same nature might easily
be selected. “Wherever I walked, the women fled at the sight of me.
The children ran away in great terror. I left books with some of the
people, and went away, amid the sneers and laughter of the common
soldiers. A party of boatmen I talked with, and begged them to take
a tract, but could not prevail. A Mussulman who had received one of
the Hindostance tracts, and found what it was, was greatly alarmed and
returned it. I am much discouraged at the rebuffs and suspicions I
meet with. As I was entering a boat, I happened to touch, with my
stick, a brass pot of one of the Hindoos, in which rice was boiling. So
defiled are we in their sight, that the pollution past from my hand,
through the stick and brass to the food. He rose and threw it all
away. Walked in the evening to a poor village, where I only produced
terror.”
If the zeal which “counts all losses light,” would reproach itself as
weak to be moved by these afflictions, or selfish to be influenced by them
in the choice of a theatre of action; yet minds of a more calculating class,
who feel that life is short; and those who love the luxury of doing good,
would be inclined to choose that station, where probabilities are greatest of
performing the most in a limited time. Still the missionary in his most 23* 23(3)v 270
eligible situation has enough of trial, enough of privation, to remind
him that he is a herald of that Prince, whose “kingdom is not of this
world.”
The tribes upon our borders to whom religious teachers have
been sent, so far from testifying like the oriental heathen, strong reluctance
or aversion, have entrusted their children to them with tears of
gratitude, and in many instances aided in the expenses incidental to their
education. The Cherokees who have probably shared the most largely
in these benefits, have made the greatest progress in civilization. The
culture of the earth has become an object of increased attention. Many of
their females understand the use of the distaff and loom, and the agency
of the needle in promoting domestic comfort. An intelligent traveller in
that region, about four years since, writes “the Cherokee women almost
universally dress after the manner of the whites, in gowns manufactured
by themselves, from cotton which they have raised on their own little
plantations. Rapidly are they coming into habits of industry. In the
Choctaw nation, 2000 spinning wheels, and several hundred looms have
been made and distributed.”
The Cherokee council has recently promised a set of tools to those
young men who would become acquainted with some mechanic art; and
has also divided the territory of the tribe into districts, and appointed
judges in each for the regular distribution of justice. The children, who
have become members of the Schools, make respectable, and often rapid
progress in the branches assigned them. The circumstance of imparting
to them our language, instead of being forced to acquire theirs, furnishes
our missionaries with an important facility which is denied to their eastern
brethren. Time and mental labour are thus rescued for other purposes;
and the pupils after obtaining the English tongue, which they
have hitherto done with great ease, enjoy in our books the advantage of
an unbounded store of knowledge. The delay occasioned by acquiring
the Hindostance or Sanscrit sufficiently well to converse with and preach
to the natives, assumes the aspect of an obstacle, which severity of application
alone can conquer. A Missionary, eminently distinguished
by his translations in the Asiatic dialects, remarks “the idiom, and just
collocation of the words in Hindostance are very difficult. Every
few miles, the language changes, so that a book in the dialect of one
district would be unintelligible in another.”
23(4)r 271 Among the facilities afforded for the instruction of our western
heathen, and which seems almost to amount to a preparation for truth,
may be numbered the circumstance, that their minds are not fettered by
an idolatry like that of Juggernaut, at once abject, imposing, and barbarous.
Their belief in the Great Spirit, and the land of souls, is
not so adverse to the “simplicity which is in Christ,” as the mysteries
of Vishnoo, and of Brumma. Roger Williams in his work, entitled,
A Key to the Language of the Indians of New-England, which
bears date in 16431643, and is now very scarce, has the following passage.
“He who questions whether God made the world, the Indians will
teach him. I must acknowledge that I have in my conversations with
them, received many confirmations of those two great truths, that God is,
and that he is a rewarder of them who diligently seek him. If they
receive any good in hunting, fishing, or harvest, they acknowledge God
in it. Yea, if they meet with but an ordinary accident, such as a fall,
&c. they say God was angry, and permitted it.”
This habitual sense of the agency of a Divine Being in all the affairs
of life, might serve both as an example and reproof to some inhabitants
of a christian land; and seems to prove that a path is already broken up,
for the footsteps of knowledge and piety. The latter assertion is however
applied principally to those upon our frontiers, who suffer from poverty
and degradation. The natives, whose territory is farther to the west,
maintain comparative independence; and finding their own mode of life
sufficient for their wants, are less disposed to receive a better. But
“our brother within our gates,” hath not rejected our benevolence, hath
not put from him the “word of life.” Do we “adjudge him unworthy
of eternal life, that we turn from him to other Gentiles?”
—that we
prefer invading the jurisdiction of foreign governments, to discharging
the debts which our own has incurred? For the Indian hath a claim
upon our justice, which sophistry cannot cancel. It is vain to say that
their land was obtained by purchase. What a purchase! When whole
townships were obtained for a single intoxicating draught; and provinces,
like the vineyard of Naboth, wrested without payment, save the
life of the owner. In many of the original purchases of land from the
Indians, payment was rendered with the sword, silencing the lip that
complained of injustice, and stilling the bosom that throbbed at tyranny. 23(4)v 272
Have we ever wrested from the Hindoo his rice-field?—from the Cingalese
his aromatic groves?—from the South-Sea Islander his liberty?
Have we introduced among them new and mortal diseases, destructive
weapons before unknown, and vices more fatal to the soul, than the
pestilence to the body? Heaven forbid that a christian, who holdeth
in his hand the light of life, should be unwilling to cast its beam upon
any land lying in darkness, or even indifferent whether any nation under
heaven should continue to “sit under the shadow of death.” But
ought he not first to relume those tapers which his ancestors aided in
extinguishing? first to guide those wanderers whom he has contributed
to plunge deeper in the labyrinth of woe? Ask the man of integrity, if
he ought not first to discharge his debts, ere he indulge in the luxury of
benevolence? But what shall we render to those whom we have bereft
of territory, of liberty, and of happiness? What can we offer, but the
hope of Heaven! Life to them is as a sealed book, and Death an abyss
of horror; but we can teach them to read from one the lesson of resignation,
and to behold the darkness of the other kindle with the glories
of the resurrection.
It is a remarkable fact that every nation which has established permanent
colonies in America, has assumed as a first principle, the conversion
of the natives; and that every one has been either forgetful of the
promise, or unfortunate in its execution. Spain bore upon her bloodstained
banners, the peaceful semblance of the cross. But so ill did her
charitable pretensions comport with her execrable barbarities, that the
miserable natives, after a full explanation of the doctrines of her church,
were accustomed to say, that they “had rather endure the sufferings of
hell, than to enter the abodes of heaven, if they must dwell there with
Spaniards.”
A Prince, whom they offered a mansion in a better world,
after having deprived him of every comfort in this, inquired, “Is this
heaven of which you speak, the place where you Spaniards go after
death?”
On their replying in the affirmative, he answered in the
strong language of nature, “Then let me go to another place.”
France, with the ostensible design of promulgating Christianity,
commenced her settlements in the New-World. Yet Champlain, who
came thither under her auspices, in the year 16031603, seemed to think that
this design might best be promoted by a war among the savages! Accordingly 23(5)r 273
he provoked sanguinary conflicts, between the aborigines and
Hurons, and the powerful confederacy of Iroquois. Fields were watered
with blood, yet the “peaceable fruits of righteousness sprang not.”
The next year, Henry IV of France, gave the Sieur de Monts, grants
of land in Acadia, now Nova Scotia, and he bound himself to propagate
the doctrines of the cross among the aborigines. Charlevoix asserts
that his monarch would not again have received Canada, when it was
restored to him by Charles First of England, (who after taking it found
its expenses too greatly overbalancing its profits,) had it not been for the
design of converting the natives. But how did the conduct of France
comport with her professions? A few Romish priests and Jesuits,
disseminated the peculiar tenets of their belief, but did they ameliorate
the condition of the savage, by mingling his simple adoration of the
Great Spirit, with the worship of gods innumerable? or illuminate his
mental darkness by teaching him to bow down to “images made like
unto corruptible things?”
Yet France has not been tinged like Spain
with the deepest dies of cruelty. Candour requires the acknowledgment
that some of her holy men have evinced a strong interest in the religious
instruction of the natives, mingled with that national urbanity which has
powerfully gained the affections of many of the sons of the forest. “On
the walls of the Chapel of the Ursulines at Quebec,”
says Sansom, “is
still delineated an elegant picture, representing the Genius of France,
just landed upon the shores of America, from an European vessel which
is seen moored to the rocks. She is pointing to the standard of the
cross, at the mast-head, and with the other hand offering to a female
savage the benefits of religious instruction, which she kneels to receive.”

The Charter given by England to her first colonists, also recognized
as an essential object, the religious instruction of the aborigines. But
how did their conduct in many instances fulfil this sacred injunction?
The natives of the forest were seen fading before their footsteps, like
the morning mist over the mountian, as if their presence, so far from
imparting spiritual life, destroyed even the principle of animal existence.
The example of many of the traders, who by frequent intercourse with
them gave the strongest representation of what they supposed christianity
was, almost universally contradicted a religion which forbids fraud,
and tyranny. Yet even then, such was their expectation of seeing some 23(5)v 274
practical influence flowing from it, that the first settlers, who witnessed
the emotions of their surprize, were accustomed to hear them say, with
a solemn countenance, “You know God! will you tell falsehoods,
Englishman?”
When the doctrines of a pure religion, have been
forcibly explained to them, how often has their effect been destroyed by
examples of vice and barbarity. How miserably has a system of holiness
been undermined by the sins of those who professed to establish it.
A zealous Missionary, once reasoning with the natives, on the importance
of moral virtues, when derived from rectified principles, was interrupted
by a Chief, who rising, said with great earnestness, “Hold your
tongue! Go home, and teach your own people not to lie, get drunk,
and cheat poor Indians: then come and preach to us, and we will believe
you.”
“They have always been ready to retort upon us,” says Gen.
Lincoln
, in his observations on the Indians, “where are the good effects
of your religion? We, of the same tribe, have no contentions among
ourselves respecting property: and no man envies the enjoyment and
happiness of his neighbour! But they have very different opinions
respecting us. These impressions ought to be removed: has it ever
been attempted?”
Several Seneca Chiefs, who in the year 18181818, were much noticed in
England, where they excited great curiosity, express themselves in the
following manner, in an address to some benevolent people of the Society
of Friends
at Leeds.
“The great injuries we have received from white men, the wickedness
we saw constantly practised among them, greatly strengthened our
minds against their ways, and their religion; thinking it impossible that
any good could come out of a people, where so much wickedness dwelt.
In this bondage have we and our fathers been held for more than two
hundred years, retiring and wasting away before the white men, our
means of subsistence diminishing, corrupting ourselves with their sins,
hardening ourselves in our afflictions, destruction before us, and no
arm to deliver.”
While we urge that the just claims which our aborigines have on us
for religious instruction should no longer be slighted, can it be thought
of inferior importance, that those christians who have intercourse with
them, should strive to exemplify the moral virtues which their faith 23(6)r 275
enjoins?—that those who preach the law, should neither make void the
law, nor through the errors of their brethren “find the gospel made of
none effect.”

Like Rachel, weeping o’er her children lost,

And shunning consolation’s cup because

Her babes were not.

Oh! have ye come to bring

Mercy to us! and will ye teach our sons

To leave the hunter’s fruitless toil, and love

14(2)r 159

The arts by which ye live? Will ye impart

To them that knowledge which their wand’ring sires

Benighted, found not? the assurance blest,

That after death the spirit shall ascend

To Him who gave it?――

One there was, who breath’d

The same promise to our wretched race,

Great Washington our Father. Low he sleeps

And deep we mourn’d him! But behold, w flawed-reproduction3-letterse

One in his seat, who bends a Sire’s regard

On these unhappy tribes. Ye too, blest Men,

Greet us as brethren, seeking to rebuild

Our desolation.

Thus Renatus spake, Note 4.— Line 123. “Thus Renatus spake.” This passage is a close paraphrase of the speech of Charles Renatus
Hicks
, to the messenger who first proposed to him on the part of our
government, to extend the benefits of instruction to the children of his
tribe. This interesting individual received the name of Renatus at his
baptism, by the Rev. Mr. Gambould, the Moravian missionary; and
has continued by his sincerity, zeal, and christian example, to fulfil the
high hopes which the dawn of his piety excited in the breast of his spiritual
father. His influence in his nation, which is considerable, is faithfully
devoted to the aid of the missionaries and the promotion of their sacred
cause. The following extract from a letter of this excellent chief to a
friend in New-England, dated 18181818, furnishes a pleasing specimen of his
sentiments, and his style. “Go on, and inflame the light to greater
brightness in the souls of your believers in the religion of Jesus Christ,
that they may suffer the red man to come with them to the fountain-head,
which burst forth in healing streams upon Mount Calvary, giving all
the human family to be as one in Christ. This shall warm the coldhearted
white man to encourage the red man to come and taste the heavenly
manna. Then shall the red man acknowledge that his elder brother
was kind to him in distress, and gave him clothes when naked, and drink
when thirsty. Then shall both enjoy His love, who is the first and the
last, and liveth forevermore; and never more quarrel about our covering
the Mother-Earth, though the Red Man once lorded over her deserted
waste.”

The Chief baptiz’d from Heav’n, whose eloquence

Bath’d in the fountain of celestial dews,

Henceforth is purified. His ardent heart

Long’d that his blinded tribe might view the light,

And joy’d to mark their offspring thronging come

From the dark forest. Sad the outcasts seem’d

As if their hard and bitter lot had crush’d

The sportiveness of childhood. But when Love

Allur’d them to its shelter, gently bound

Its circlet round them, show’d their wond’ring eyes

14(2)v 160

The excellence of order, and the pow’r

Of varying knowledge, their excursive minds

Travers’d the new expanse, while their chang’d brows

Beam’d with exulting hopes. How would the heart

Of mild Benevolence rejoice to view

Those tawny children of the forest stand

Like lambs before their teachers, pleas’d to gain

That knowledge, which to their benighted souls

Seems like the glory of Creation’s ray

Bursting from Chaos. Ah! methinks the bounds

Of distance fleet! and bright, prevailing rays

Reveal the scene. No. 5.— Line 145. “Methinks the boundsOf distance fleet! and bright, prevailing raysReveal the scene.” Brainerd, in the Cherokee nation, was the first institution among our
aborigines, upon a plan combining christianity with civilization. There, 23(6)v 276
the experiment was first made, whether Indians would resign their children
to foreign teachers, and whether those children were capable of the application,
the proficiency, the subordination of those, whose infancy had
passed amid higher privileges. Success has crowned an attempt which
commenced amid the fears of many, and the humble hopes of a few.
The children of the forest have cheerfully adopted a system of methodical
study and labour, more strict than we find established among ourselves.
Their progress has been shown almost universally rapid, and their minds are
considered by their teachers of an excellent order. That learning which
the child of indulgence views with aversion, and for the partial acquisition
of which he fancies himself entitled to reward, they consider as
recreations. Food and raiment, which he receives without thanks, they
esteem as favours, exciting gratitude. Among them also, are some
happy students of the “wisdom that cometh from above;” and the
important influence acquired by the Missionaries over the minds of the
parents, by attention to the welfare of their children, is a channel
through which much good may enter.
The experiment first tried among the Cherokees has been repeated
among the Choctaws and Great Osages, so that already, at a variety of
stations, several hundred native children are listening to the voice of
Instruction.
Whether the Indians ever can be civilized, still remains a question
with many cautious minds. If they ever can, now is the time: when
famine and misery have forced them to seek a refuge, and when that
refuge is provided for them in the arms of humanity. But reason
assures us, that the process must be slow. National character is not
modified, much less renovated, in a moment. By the time that the
whole of the present generation has past away, the point may be decided.
Yet if in civilized countries, where education exerts its sway with fewer
obstacles, the children even of virtuous parents sometimes prove faithless
both to the example of the one, and the impression of the other; much
ought to be expected of a roving and untutored race, to counteract the
purposes of instruction, and repress the enthusiasm of hope.
A happy band I see,

Bending intently o’er the sacred page,

With sudden comprehension, while glad tears

Unconscious start; or cheerful passing on

From hours of study, to accustom’d sport,

From sport to useful toil. The day declines,

And gathering meekly at Devotion’s call,

The holy orison ascends to Him,

The first, the last, whose unrequited love

Careth for all his works. Methinks I hear

Their vesper hymn, in solemn melody

Dying away. Almost thy fervent pray’r

Bursts on my ear, blest Kingsbury! Note 6.— Line 157. “Almost thy fervent pray’rBursts on my ear, blest Kingsbury.” At a time when missions to the East almost monopolized the exertions
of christians, the Rev. Cyrus Kingsbury was revolving amid the
solitude of the student’s cell, the design of devoting himself to our
western aborigines. With firmness worthy of his cause, he penetrated
the lonely forest, and established the first permanent institution in which
the children of our natives had ever been taught to blend the arts of
civilized life with the hopes of an immortal existence. When the first
obstacles to an institution have been surmounted, he has left it to form
others in the wilderness; choosing not to “rest in his labours, but to
bear the burden, and heat of the day.”
Only a few years have elapsed,
since his solitary tent was pitched among the wilds of Chickamaugah;
now, many christians have entered the same path, to water the seed
in the desert, and to forget their toil amid the joy of harvest. This
self-devoted band may be considered as adopting the plan which filled
the discriminating mind of Eliot, the first Indian apostle, who in his
early intercourse with them, declared, that in order to succeed in their
conversion to christianity, it was necessary that “they should be taken
off from their wild way of living, and brought into some kind of civil
society.”
thou whose zeal

14(3)r 161

Didst in the wilderness prepare the way

For Heav’n’s ambassadors. Thy student’s cell

Long mark’d thee, o’er this world-discarded theme

Musing like David, when the holy flame

Burnt in his heart, and from his harp-strings burst

Like the firm Patriarch, from his peaceful home,

And fathers’ sepulchres, divinely urg’d

To wander, strong in faith, tho’ trembling hope

Pointed, she knew not whither, thou didst pitch

Thy lonely tent; may He whose promise cheer’d

The Father of the Faithful, guide thy steps,

And aid thy helpers, till their toil redeem

From Superstition’s mazes, countless heirs

Of heaven’s inheritance.

Amid the group

Of thy new gather’d family, is one,

Whose humble aspect and mild eye reveal

That in her heart the Spirit of God hath wrought

A holy work. With gentlest hand she leads

Those younger than herself, repeating oft,

“How good, how merciful is He who took

Us from our low estate.”

Patient she strives

By prayers, and by instructions, to arouse

14* 14(3)v 162

Reflection in the hearts of those she styles

Her wretched people. Modest, tender, kind,

Her words and actions; every vain desire

Is laid obedient at the feet of Christ.

And now no more the gaiety she seeks

Of proud apparel; ornaments of gold

She gladly barters for the plain attire

Of meek and lowly spirits. Catharine, hail!

Our sister in the faith! Note 7.— Line 188. “Catharine, hail!Our sister in the faith.” This particular notice of an individual, when many of the native
pupils have distinguished themselves by proficiency in study and cheerful
acquiescence in the rules of their new institutions, may be explained
by the circumstance that she was the first among that number, who
embraced christianity. A short time after she became a member of the
school at Brainerd, which then bore the original name of Chickamaugah,
Catharine Brown, at that time about the age of 16 years, was remarked
for her rapid progress in the various branches of education, and for the
influence of pure religion upon her heart and deportment. A variety of 24 24(1)v 278
ornaments with which she was furnished by her parents, had been worn
with some haughtiness, as valuable aids to a comely appearance. These
were of her own accord laid aside, and offered to assist in defraying the
expenses of the mission. On the minds of those of her companions who
seemed less sensible than herself of the advantages extended to them,
she strove to impress the magnitude of their privileges. Soon after the
establishment of the school, one of the instructers writes, “Catherine
takes great pains to make those little Cherokees, who are inclined to be
inconsiderate, understand the privilege they enjoy in attending school
here. Often has she been heard interceding for them with her Father
in Heaven. Every night she reads the Scriptures, and prays with those
little girls, who lodge in the same apartment: and every day she gives
increasing evidence that the love of God is shed abroad in her heart.”

Since that period she has become more extensively known throughout the
christian community, as an interesting example of the power of that holy
principle which at once renovates, fortifies, and exalts our nature. She
has become a faithful Instructress in a school recently established among
her tribe: and her brohter, a promising young man, who has also embraced
our religion, is receiving in the excellent institution at Cornwall
(Connecticut) an education to fit him for a missionary to his people.
“Oh how great would be the blessing,” he exclaims in the glowing,
unrestrained language of nature, “could we see many young heathen
become heralds of salvation to their dear benighted countrymen, see
them hail the little flock of Christ at the Cherokee nation, and overthrow
the dominion of darkness there, and make the banks of Chickamaugah
tremble, and fly on the wings of heavenly love over the lofty Lookout,
and visit the slumbering inhabitants there; and reach the plains of
Creek-Path, and turn that path towards heaven, that it may be travelled
by Cherokees also; and thus go on until Spring-Place, Taloney,
Tsatuga, and all the people, acknowledge God as their Saviour.”
The Lookout is a majestic mountain, whose base is washed by the
Tennessee River, and the places alluded to, in this sentence, are villages
of the Cherokee territory, some of them within the vicinity of the former
abode of the writer.
Can those who love

The image of their Saviour, lightly prize

His lineaments in thee?

How beautiful

Is undefil’d Religion, mild enthron’d

Upon the brow of youth. Its touch dispels

All dissonance of feature, every shade

Which darkens this dull clay, each narrow line

Of cold division, and with Truth’s clear beam

Reveals the graces of the pure in heart.

Who shall see God.

And thou too, Warrior brave!

Undaunted Charles, Note 8.— Line 198. “And thou too, Warrior brave!Undaunted Charles—” Among the first converts to christianity, from our American wilds,
by the recent exertions of benevolence, was an intrepid Cherokee warrior,
by the name of Charles Reece. In our last war with Great Britain
he distinguished himself at the battle of the Horse-shoe, by swimming
across the river in the face, and under the fire of the enemy, and bringing
off the boats in triumph. As a testimony of valour, he received from
government a musket, richly ornamented with silver. This bold warrior
was so much affected by the religious instructions of the Rev. Mr.
Cornelius
, when a traveller in that country, that he sank at his feet, as
if utterly deprived of strength, and desiring to become as a little child,
that he might learn in humility, the words of his Saviour. The day
after, he came several miles to find the missionaries at Brainerd, inquiring
of them, with the deepest solemnity, “Can you tell me what
God wants me to do?”
and in conformity to their instructions, resigned
his imperfect theory, for the knowledge and practice of a consistent
religion.
who dar’dst the opposing flood

Of the swift Coosa, ’mid the British fires,

And guiding thence th’ endanger’d barks preserv’dst

The lives of many; thou who didst obtain

14(4)r 168163

The meed of valour, yet hast meekly learnt

Now not to glory, save in the reproach

And cross of Christ; we bless thee as the fruits

E’en as the early harvest of the toil

Of God’s own servant, who in youthful prime,

In the heart’s flow’ry spring, from joys of home,

From charms of love departing, sought the work

Of an evangelist. Like the bold strain

Of him whose lips the altar’s flame had cleans’d,

His ardent tone, as through the wilds he bent

His solitary way, Note 9.— Line 212. “His ardent tone, as through the wilds he bentHis solitary way—” The Rev. Mr. Cornelius, now of Salem (Massachusetts), was appointed
in 18171817, to travel through the United States, in order to excite
the benevolence of the people in favour of the mission to our aborigines,
which had been patronized by government; and likewise to visit several
of the tribes upon our borders, and discover with what dispositions they
would meet the designs of mercy. These important offices were discharged
with such a happy combination of zeal and ability, that many
hearts ascribe their first deep sympathy for this miserable race, to his
eloquent description of the woes “of our brother, perishing within our
gates.”
bade the rude cliffs

And trackless mountains bow their hoary heads,

And the lone vales with rev’rent awe arise

To meet their God.

Oh ye, who raptur’d trace

Historic annals through th’ eclipsing cloud

Of dark uncertainty, and hoary years,

Behold what changes our portentous times

Mark on this fleeting stage! On awful wheels

Rolls the Redeemer’s chariot o’er the earth,

Making the Idols tremble. Ocean bears

Upon his thousand waves, the hearald train

Who rear Salvation’s banner. To each clime,

Sultry or savage, hastes the mighty Scroll

14(4)v 164

Of Inspiration. Seraph-harps resound

With hallelujahs o’er the ceaseless flight

Of souls, who borne by Penitence ascend

Up to Heaven’s gate.

Ye, who from earliest dawn

Of infant reason to this passing hour,

Have heard the Gospel’s invitation pour’d,

Who view the rapid hand of Time unfold

High Prophecy’s dread annals, while the Sun

Of truth, bright darting from each broken seal

Dispels the mist where Infidel disguise

Sought its cold covert. Oh! embrace the hope

Which cannot perish. Would ye know the worth

Of our Religion, prove it in the hour

When dire affliction, like some wrecking storm,

Appals the soul. Say! have ye seen the friend

Whom the most sacred, most endearing ties

Bound to your heart, a prey to stern disease?

And while you, watching o’er her pillow, strove

’Gainst wan Despair, and agonizing pray’d

That the brief remnant of her fragile life

Not yet might vanish, has the hand of God

Alter’d her countenance? Have ye beheld

That cherish’d form is the dim shroud of Death,

14(5)r 165

Lock’d in his damp, cold cavern? Saw ye then

The star of immortality arise

From the drear shadows of that gloomy vale

Which Nature enters shudd’ring, and pale Grief

Dews with unceasing tear?

When ye have bent

O’er her lone tomb, shrinking beneath the weight

Of blasted Hope, while the resistless tide

Of Sorrow, heighten’d by the mournful swell

Of recollected joys, o’er the void soul

Roll’d like a mighty deluge, mark’d ye not

Inscrib’d above the ebon gate of Death,

“I am the resurrection and the life,

Saith Jesus Christ?” Ah! when ye have believ’d

That the sepulchral keys should be consign’d

To that blest hand which once was deeply pierc’d

For man’s offences, ye have meekly knelt

Amid the ruins of your love, and sigh’d,

Thy will be done. Still let that soften’d glow

Pervade your spirit; bid your life evince

Your orthodoxy; let your virtues be

Devotion’s daughters. Toil no more to hide

Sectarian bitterness beneath the cloak

Of righteous zeal; your many-headed faith

14(5)v 166

Reduce to His simplicity, who merg’d

In Love to the Supreme and Love to man,

The prophets, and the law. Then shall ye find

The grandeur of Omnipotence absorb

The trifles of the hour; as he who stands

On Andes’ crown, marking the Ocean mix

His tides eternal with the bending skies,

Notes not the obstacles, nor heeds the thorns

That marr’d his path below. Then shall ye strike

The lyre of praise to the Eternal God,

Who needeth not th’ Archangel’s arm, yet deigns

From the frail habitants of clay, to form

Instruments for his work: then shall ye rise

Clad in Messiah’s armour to advance

His hasting sceptre, or to pay your vows

Before his throne. Oh! aid that sacred cause

Which saints espous’d, which holy martyrs seal’d

With their hearts’ blood, and bending from the skies

Complacent view. Uphold it by your prayers,

Your alms, your influence, for Jehovah’s smile

Shall crown the labour.

Who will coldly say,

That he is burden’d with the ceaseless claim

And tax of charity—that her demands,

14(6)r 167

Taking each shape and form of countless thought,

He cannot grant? Then let him stay his hand,

Withhold his short compassion, hoard his gold,

But bid him heed that day, when it shall rise

“To eat his flesh like fire:” yes! heed the day

Of righteous scrutiny. The work is God’s;

And still shall it proceed. He needeth not

The aid of the reluctant. Countless hosts

On earth, in air, and highest Heaven rejoice

To do his will. Full many a heart has rent

The bonds close twisted with its central clasp

In Life’s delightful morn, by sacred home,

Kindred, and parents’ love. Yes! throngs have bid

Farewell without a tear, tho’ the gay world

Might call it martyrdom, yet have they gone

To their returnless bourn, diffusing joy

O’er desolation, and within their souls

Hiding its sacred source. Full many a name

Which Fashion flaunting in her gilded car

Heeds not amid her pomp, is register’d

In the Lamb’s book of life. Ah! some have borne

Their message prosperously, and some have fall’n,

Fall’n in their charity. The blooming flow’r

14(6)v 168

Has faded, and the withering matron stem

Cast its pale blossom in Salvation’s path,

Strewing the steps of Sorrow. Thou hast fall’n,

Thou mild Moravian Sister! Note 10.— Line 321. “Thou mild Moravian Sister.” Mrs. Gambold, the wife of the Rev. John Gambold, aided in
bearing the burdens, and performing the duties of a missionary, with
distinguished zeal and ability, for a period of sixteen years. Her
exertions were devoted to the Cherokees, and her residence was at
Spring-place in Tennessee. She was admired in early life, for her
amiable and refined manners, and for the possession of those accomplishments
which are highly valued in polished society. For fourteen years
she was an Instructress in the Female Seminary at Bethlehem (Pennsylvania),
nia
), beloved by those who were under her care, and happy in an employment
which at once gave her independence, esteem, and the consciousness
of an useful life. “Yet there,” she says, “my equally
favourite object was to throw my humble mite into the depressed scale of
our poor aborigines. Strongly did I feel for their situation; and whoever
spoke or acted in their favour was my friend. My heart bled at the
view of their accumulated wrongs.”
Moved by this tender and ardent
zeal, she decided to renounce the comforts of her situation, the allurements
of refined society, and to endure perils in the wilderness. With
unabating firmness, and the most tender sentiments of piety, she discharged
the duties, and sustained the privations of her station. To the
wandering natives, she exemplified the Apostle’s precept, that “God is
love and that he who dwelleth in love, dwelleth in God.”
With the most
endearing condescension, she poured instruction into the minds of their
ignorant children, waiting patiently for the harvest. “Our institution
for the young,”
she writes in 18191819, “is at present small. But how
good is our Saviour! Some of those dearly beloved pupils hath he
already brought into the ark of safety.”
The promising Cherokee
youth, who received the name of Elias Boudinot, and is now pursuing
his studies in the institution at Cornwall (Connecticut,) acquired the
rudiments of learning and piety from this excellent woman. She
exerted herself in forming a Sunday school for the blacks, who, she
observes, used “formerly to profane our most holy festivals, the Lord’s
day, Christmas, and Easter; nor were our repeated remonstrances of any
avail.”
A native woman, by the name of Margaret-Ann Crutchfield, 24(3)r 281
who with her husband was interested in teaching the African school, is
affectionately styled by Mrs. Gambold, “the first fruits of the nation,
which it had pleased our dear Lord to give us.”
She was a niece of
Charles Renatus Hicks, and her piety, like his, proved to be both sincere
and lasting. Her ardent feelings were often strongly excited by the
oppressions, and spiritual darkness of her people. Having been taught
to read and write by her benefactress, she thus expresses herself in a
letter to a friend in New-England, bearing date in the winter of 18191819,
“I feel great concern for my poor nation. The white people drive
some of them from their houses, and from settlements upon their own
lands. One old man, who was driven out in this manner, moved to
some distance, where he lives in a camp. Then this old man begged
the white people, who took possession of his place, for a boat, that he
and his family might go to the Arkansas. But they answered him
that he might make a canoe, and get to that country, as he could. If
such things are allowed, we know not what will become of us. I think
our good Father, the President, is ignorant of the proceedings of the
white people here. I believe that he is our friend, and wishes to do
right for the Indians. There are a good many of us, who wish to remain
in our own country. We have just begun to see good days, by
having the gospel preached to us. My dear brother and sister Gambold,
have been labouring in this country for thirteen years. It is very
painful to them, after labouring so long, to see the Indians driven away.
My uncle Charles R. Hicks has gone on to the President at Washington,
to plead our cause. I trust our Saviour will support him, and
make all end well. If he should not succeed, I know that we are gone.
But one thing we know, that our dear Saviour will never forsake us.”

The death of this interesting convert took place in 1820-10October 1820, and
was attended with peaceful, even triumphant hopes. Mrs. Gambold,
in her account of the scene, adds a little circumstance expressive of the
reverence which the natives entertain for true piety, even before they
have been led to renounce their own debasing superstition. The evening
after the funeral, a large meteor was observed, emitting vivid streams of light, and attended with an explosion like thunder. “This,” said one
of them, with their characteristic gravity, “this is a warning to us. It
signifieth that a good woman hath died.”
24(3)v 282 At the institution of the recent missions among the Cherokees, the
faithful Moravian labourers, forgetting that narrow division of sect which
too often causes coldness and contention in the family of Christ, received
the new occupants at Brainerd, with the most ancient affection. Mrs.
Gambold
mentions in a letter, “How great was our joy, after many
years hoping and wishing with tearful eyes, for more labourers in the
field of our dear Lord, which is truly large, and requires many sowers,
when our beloved brother Kingsbury entered our little abode with a
cheerful countenance, ready, through divine assistance, to do his utmost
in cultivating the long neglected soil, and in preparing a harvest for that
dear Redeemer, who shed his precious blood not only for us, but for the
Indians also.”
In a public notice of her death, her friendship, and even maternal
kindness to the Missionaries of another persuasion is gratefully recorded.
“By the variety of her useful acquirements, she commanded the respect
of all who knew her; and by the amiableness of her deportment, and
the disinterestedness of her services, conciliated the affections of an
untutored people. But she looked above human approbation, her heart
was fixed upon her Saviour, and beyond a doubt, her services in his
cause will not pass unrewarded.”
To these remarks upon this excellent
woman, may be added an extract from the London Missionary Register,
conferring on the religious denomination to which she belonged, a tribute
of praise, honourable both to the merit that deserves, and the liberality
that bestows it. “It is but justice to the United Brethren to say, that
they make the best missionaries in the world: for to a persevering, temperate
zeal that never tires, they join habits of personal industry which
enables them to subsist at a very small expense in their employers. The
expense of their establishment at Gnadenthal, amounting to £ 600 per
annum, is defrayed by the Missionaries themselves, with a deficiency of
only £ 19. They have competely won the affections of the Hottentots,
have prevailed on them to shake off their habits of sloth, and are rapidly
bringing them to a state of civilization.”
Thou wert deck’d

With what the giddy, unreflecting world

Might call accomplishment, but thou didst own

A pearl it could not purchase. Thou didst cleanse

Thy knowledge in the fount of Jesus Christ,

And pour it to the poor; even as the hand

Of the blest angel mov’d Siloam’s pool

To heal the impotent. And thou didst die

E’en as thou liv’dst, unmurmuring, pure, serene,

And ardent in thy faith.――

Thou hast obtain’d

Eternal gain, from sublunary loss,

And tribulation; for thy robes are white

In the atoning blood. Say, shall we shed

The tear for thee, blest Sister! when thy lot

Is better far than ours?

Soft glows the turf

O’er the young Osage Orphan, Note 11.— Line 336. “Soft glows the turfO’er the young Osage Orphan,—” For a particular account of this interesting child, see a work recently
published by the Rev. E. Cornelius, of Salem (Massachusetts), entitled
The little Osage Captive.
she whose chains

Of sad captivity were gently riven

By mild benevolence; while He who pours

Light on the blinded eye, redeem’d her heart

15(1)r

From Nature’s slavery. Beams not her smile

From some bright cloud, with grateful ray, on those

Who o’er her transient tutelage diffus’d

Instruction’s early germ, affections mild,

And hopes benign? Ye blest, who still essay

To offer incense ’mid those erring tribes,

Lift high your censers, bright with holy flame,

Be strong, and fear not. He, whose mighty voice

Counsell’d the Prophet to prepare his way

In the wild desert, and make strait his path

Over the trackless mountains, He will come

And bring the victory. Ye too, whose hands

Might gird the soldiers, ye, whom Heav’n appoints

As stewards of its bounty, will ye aid

The sacred mission? Will ye freely strew

The seeds of wealth upon this troubled soil,

And trust the God of harvest? Prest with want,

Blinded by ignorance, and in the maze

Of brutal vice and superstition chain’d,

The wretched natives stand. To you, their hands

They raise, imploring.

Tears of anguish stain

Their hagged features. Timidly they lead

Their untaught children, asking you to grant

15 15(1)v 170

Pity and comfort. Those neglected minds,

Long bound in dungeon gloom, yet bearing trace

Of noblest workmanship, ye might illume

With intellectual brightness, as the stone

Of precious lustre, from the rubbish drawn,

Dazzles the polisher. Ah! think how hard

His lot, whom shades envelop, where fair Hope

Unfolds no dewy petal, where the tree

Of knowledge springs not, and where Genius buds

To feel the frost and die. Amid our race,

Too oft we sigh to mark the mighty force

Of Genius misapplied, its daring search

Unsanctified, and its refulgent flame

Sparking through dim, perverted tendencies,

As through a misty halo. Genius soars

Like the proud Eagle tow’rd the vertic Sun,

But oft her drooping crest, and pinions soil’d,

Betray the aberrations of a flight

Which Heaven directs not. When her plumage drinks

The fresh’ning dews of renovated love,

When her purg’d eye, with steadfast beam beholds

The Sun of Righteousness, when her heart feels

His healing touch, who sanctifies what Earth

Deems holy, how sublime doth she aspire

15(2)r 171

And hovering o’er the cliff of Zion’s mount,

Await the call to rise and make her nest

Among the stars. Philosophy perceiv’d,

E’en thro’ the dimness of the earliest days

The emptiness of life, and weakly blam’d

This void existence. But Religion brought

The promise of a new, and o’er the storm

Rais’d her white banner. Then the day-star shone,

Enlight’ning darkness, and the realm of Death,

Guiding the mourners’ step thro’ thorns and gloom,

To a strong refuge in the glorious hope

Of immortality.

Oh! then impart

To your blind brother, in his heathen woe,

The surplus of your luxury; and peace

And joy shall blossom in his gloomy path,

As Eden’s roses ’neath the Angel’s feet.

Christians! who list’ning, love the word divine,

Who find it as a sun-beam in your path,

And like a star of glory to your souls,

Think of your brother, (for our God hath made

All of one blood, who dwell upon the earth,)

Think of your brother, in your very gates,

Wand’ring, unsatisified, benighted, sad,

15(2)v 172

Down to his grave, where no sweet spirit tells

Of rest in Jesus, where no hallow’d voice

Sooths him to mingle dust with dust, in hope

Of a blest resurrection. Nature weeps

O’er her fall’n son, in speechless agony,

While the dark forms of horror and despair

Mock at her bitterness. Would ye desire

That peace and mercy there should wave their wings

And midnight flee away? Then lift your pray’r,

Dispense your bibles, send your holy men

To publish peace; let the poor native taste

The fruits that grow upon your tree of life,

Hold to his parch’d and thirsty lips the cup

Of your salvation, and as his warm tears

Of gratitude and penitence burst forth,

So shall your rapture swell at the last day

When ye shall hear the glorious words, “Approach!

What ye have done to one of these, the least,

The lowest in the scale of woe, was done

To me, your Judge: and where the Master dwells,

There shall the servant be.”

Ye too, who share

The gentle sympathies of social life,

As equals and companions, whose soft hands

15(3)r 173

Press the first seal upon the waxen mind

Of Infancy, who reign in the mild sphere

Of sweet domestic pleasure, bearing still

The birthright of each tender courtesy

And hope refin’d, think of your humbled sex,

’Mid those degraded tribes the lowest still,

Bearers of burdens, tillers of the earth,

Cut off from every joy reciprocal

That sweetens life, and so oppress with woe

As undespairing horror to destroy

Their female offspring, lest they too should share

Their servitude and misery—oh think,

Think of these sisters! think of that blest word,

That pure religion, which has rais’d your lot

To what it is, and if warm Pity move

The tear, the wish to rescue from despair

But one sad suffering slave, if Love inspire

To follow Him who went to seek the lost,

Oh speak, and it is done.

And ye, dear youth,

O’er whose fair brows the light of knowledge plays

In bright intelligence, whose opening minds

Like some pure rose-bud crystalline with dew

Are shelter’d in the gentle bow’r of Love,

15* 15(3)v 174

Remember those who heard no cradle hymn

Of peace and mercy, on whose infant hearts

No mild instruction stamp’d a holy trace,

But ignorance and vile example left

Their wandering impression. While you learn

The various arts to grace and comfort life,

While in the circle of your friends you sit

Around your teachers, while your hearts respond

“Behold how pleasant, and how good it is

Thus to be bound in unity;” oh think

Of that untutor’d race, who hear no sound

To rouse the mind from indolence, or save

Its long perverted pow’rs, nor docile bend

To that blest Education which prepares

For duties, and for trials, and for wounds

In life’s uncertain warfare, for the joy

That gilds its close, and for the victor’s crown

Which from the mental garden wise removes

Those roots of bitterness that choke the growth

Of nobler plants, and by the timely change

Of sun-beam and of dew, of transient frowns

And gentleness, essays to imitate

The discipline of Heav’n. And when you hear

The rude storm beating o’er your peaceful home,

15(4)r 175

When round the social board, the cheerful fire,

A happy hand you draw, will you not think

Amid your gratitude, of those who roam

O’er the cold mountains, homeless and distrest,

Meagre with famine, and but ill-conceal’d

By tatters from the blast?

Mark o’er our land,

How Childhood’s bounty strives to meliorate

Their sufferings; how the bands of youth unite

In beauteous circles, bound by wreaths of Love,

O’er Generosity’s rich robe to cast

Their sparkling gems like stars, and tesselate

Her golden pavement. Like the chosen race

Thronging innumerous tow’rd the promis’d land,

They urge their lingering kindred, “Haste with us,

And we will do thee good;” Note 12.— Line 494. “They urge their lingering kindred, ‘Haste with us,And we will do thee good.’ —” INTERNAL ERROR. Please report to wwp@neu.edu that regMe is unmatched.Numbers x, 29. This will be recognized as the invitation of the
Jewish Lawgiver to his brother, when Israel was about to remove to the
promised land. Its spirit seems still to be infused into the minds of
those who are engaged in the formation of benevolent societies; and
among the young, the sympathy arising from it, is almost irresistable.
The age in which we live, has been called the age of charity; and it
is peculiarly distinguished by the charities of childhood. Innumerable
associations for the most disinterested purposes, of bands just entering
into life, adorn our country. Apart from the aid which has thus been
rendered to poverty, and to the heathen, the effect is important upon
the unformed minds of the actors. For when industry or self-denial
are made the basis of their charity, energies are awakened, and habits
cherished, which look beyond the happiness of this life, and affect the
destinies of Eternity. The great designs of the present century, in the
accomplishment of which, both Infancy and Age unite, are thus beautifully
illustrated by the poet Montgomery.
“In the Bible Society, all names and distinctions of sects are blended,
till they are lost, like the prismatic colours, in a ray of pure and perfect
light. In the Missionary work, though divided, they are not discordant;
but like the same colours displayed and harmonized in the rainbow, they
form an arch of glory, ascending on the one hand from earth to heaven,
and on the other, daescending from heaven to earth, a bow of promise, a
covenant of peace, a sign that the storm is passing away, and the ‘Sun
of Righteousness, with healing on his wings,’
breaking forth over all nations.”
for he who form’d

Our souls, linking their duties with their joys,

Shows, that in blessing others, is our bliss.

Let industry, let Self-denial pour

Their limpid rills to swell the sacred tide

Of wide Benevolence, and find their gifts

Enrich themselves. Retrench some glittering toy,

Some tinsel trapping, some luxurious taste,

And lay the silent trophy at the shrine

15(4)v 176

Of that pure Charity which “vaunteth not,

Nor boasteth of her deeds.” Perchance your ear

From Brainerd’s culture’d bound, from Eliot’s shades,

From wild Tallony’s unfrequented dales,

From Dwight (dear, hallow’d name!) may catch the tone

Of gratitude to Christians, for some boon

Which you have toil’d to aid. E’en on the shore

Of fair Ceylon, or the far Sandwich isles

Round whose green coast the vast Pacific roars,

Mid Gambia’s injured natives, or the vales

Of murmuring Senegal, some grateful child

May muse and ponder o’er that holy book

Which you have giv’n. Perchance, on Ganges’ banks

Some infant, rescu’d from the whelming tide

Or from its father’s knife, may kneeling pour

Praise to Jehovah. Oh! to snatch one mind

From ruin’s wreck, one soul from deadly vice,

Is it not better than to flaunt in pride

Of wealth, a few short years, then fade unmourn’d,

As an unodorous flow’r? When like the gale

Thrilling the harp of Eol, rushing thoughts

Controul your spirit, moving it to give

Freely as ye receive, remember them

For whom my lay entreats. And when you muse

15(5)r 177

At parting day, or when the heavier shades

Announce soft slumber, and attune the soul

To meek Devotion, bear them on your prayers.

――Ye too, who hang over your cradled sons,

With silent rapture, Parents! who survey

The daily change of those unfolding minds,

And snowy brows, who sometimes pensive muse

On the bold tempters, and dark snares that throng

Their untried journey, view the mighty tide

Of population, ever rolling west,

And meditate, perchance, a few short years

That raise these young shoots into sapplings tall,

May plant them on our frontiers. Think once more;

The Indians are their neighbours, deeply stung

With sense of wrong, and terrible in wrath,

What shall restrain their hatchets? Who shall quell

Their midnight conflagration? Who preserve

Those polish’d temples from the glaring knife

Temper’d in blood? What helmet shield their heads

From the keen Tomahawk? Oh! make these foes

Your friends, your brethren, give them the mild arts

Social and civiliz’d, send them that Book

Which teaches to forgive, implant the faith

That turns the raging vulture to the dove,

15(5)v 178

And with these deathless bonds secure the peace

And welfare of your babes.

Oh thou, whose hand

Temperate and just, doth guide our helm of state

On its majestic course, steering so wise

’Tween Scylla and Charybdis, that their wrath

Forgets to vex the long-resounding deep,

Shunning those quicksands where Ambition wrecks,

And from the vortex where wild Rashness whirls

In fatal revolution, bearing safe

The burden of an Empire’s vast concerns,

Ruler of Freedom’s favour’d clime, where beam

Bright emanations on each gazing eye

From the fair dome of Knowledge, like the flame

Whose spiry column pointed Israel’s path,

Son of that State, whose matron arm embrac’d

Great Washington, and mark’d with glowing pride

The scroll of glory brighten with the names

Of her illustrious offspring—thou, whose heart

Gathering the groans of our rejected tribes,

Compassionate devis’d their good, Note 13.— Line 570. “—thou whose heartGathering the groans of our rejected tribesCompassionate devis’d their good.” His excellency James Monroe, the present Chief Magistrate of the
United States, has distinguished himself by a kind regard to the interests
of our aborigines. He has awakened their gratitude and confidence;
and they are accustomed to speak of him as a Father, who is solicitous
for their welfare, and to view him as a Philanthropist, listening to “the
sighing of the prisoner.”
The recent missions are indebted much to
his patronage, for the degree of success which has given strength to
their infancy. In his tour through the western states in 18131813, he visited
Brainerd, gave particular directions for the erection of a building,
intended for the instruction of female pupils, and expressed the most
friendly interest in the whole establishment. This benevolent regard to
the miserable, which will long render his name respected and beloved,
seems now to be pervading the higher ranks of society, promising to
overcome that stern indifference which has too long been entertained
towards the sons of the forest, by a nation which covered their glory.
In the language of Scripture “the set time to favour them has come.”
No stronger proof of this assertion need be adduced, than the constitution
of a Society recently organized at the seat of government, under the
appellation of The American Society for promoting the civilization
and general improvement of the Indian tribes within the United States
:
and which comprizes a great proportion of those illustrious characters,
whose virtues dignify their opinions, and whose opinions must influence
multitudes in our great community.
and led

Thro’ gushing tears their filial glance to thee,

Oh! still uphold their weakness, still extend

O’er the drear desert of their wretchedness,

15(6)r 179

The banner of thy wisdom, till their minds,

Freed from debasing fetters, twine the arts

Of civilization, with the hopes sublime

Of pure Christianity: so shall the voice

Of just posterity exalt thy fame

Above the blood-stain’d hero, and enshrine

Thine image in the consecrated dome

Of blest Philanthropy.

My Country! Rouse

From thy deep trance! Divide the long-drawn veil

Of thy lethargic slumbers, and perceive

Britannia’s bright example; she who said

To Africa, “Be free.” Awake, and hear

From Heaven’s high arch the awful question break,

“Where is thy brother?” Wilt thou turn away,

Answering, “I know not!” with concealment vain,

Or arrogantly asking, “Why should I

Be made my brother’s keeper?”

View the day

Of retribution! Think how thou wilt bear

From thy Redeemer’s lips the fearful words,

“Thy brother, perishing within thy gates,

Thou saw’st. Thy brother hunger’d, was athirst,

Was naked, and thou saw’st it. He was sick,

15(6)v 180

And thou withheld’st the healing: was in prison,

To Vice and Ignorance, nor didst thou send

To set him free.” Oh! ere that hour of doom

Whence there is no reprieve, my Country, wake

From thy dark dream!

Blot from th’ accusing scroll

Those guilty traces, with repentant tears:

Teach thy red brother in the day of wrath

To stand before the Judge, and plead, “Forgive!

Forgive! For he hath sent thine holy word,

Hath told me of a Saviour, and diffus’d

The day-beam o’er my darkness. His kind voice

Taught me to call thee Father. Oh! forgive

Those earthly wrongs which he hath well aton’d

By pointing me to Heaven.”

The time of Hope,

And of probation, speeds on rapid wing,

Swift and returnless. What thou hast to do,

Do with thy might. Haste! lift aloud thy voice,

And publish on the borders of the pit,

The resurrection. Bid thy heralds bear

To thy own wilds, Salvation. Strike the harp

Of God’s high praises mid thy deserts lone,

And let thy mountains speak them. Lo! they rise

16(1)r 181

Wafted on every gale. From Afric’s sands,

From chill Siberia, from the restless wave

Of turbid Ganges, from the spicy groves,

And from the sea-green islands. Rise! and spread

That name which must be borne from sea to sea,

And from the river to the utmost bounds

Of the wide world. Then, when the ransom’d come

With gladness unto Zion, thou shalt joy

To hear the vallies and the hills break forth

Before them into singing; thou shalt join

The raptur’d strain, exulting that the Lord

Jehovah, God Omnipotent, doth reign

O’er all the Earth.

16
16(1)v
16(2)r

Notes
to
Canto First.

Note 1.— Line 7. “To where Magellan lifts his torch to lightThe meeting of the waters” The island of Terra del Fuego, having received its name of Land of
Fire,
from the number of volcanoes which diversify its desolate region,
may well be represented under the metaphor of Torch-bearer to the
Oceans, as they rush to mingle their waves.
Note 2.— Line 73. “Of brother, or of son, untimely slainIn the dread battle.” The custom which prevails among the aboriginal Americans, of adopting
a captive foe in the place of some near relative, who has fallen in
battle, is well known. The affection thus transferred, is said to be sincere
and ardent, and extinguished only with life. They have been styled
the most revengeful, the most implacable of savage nations. Yet this
practice, peculiar to themselves, seems rather to prove, that the habits
arising from natural affection are stronger than the suggestions of revenge.
Among civilized nations, in every age, the adoption of children has prevailed;
but it has been circumscribed either by the limits of affinity, the
predilection of friendship, or the excitment of compassion. When was
it known to be extended to mortal foes, even by Christians, who are
bound to requite enmity with love? Where, among the followers of 16(2)v 184
Him, with whose death-pang was mingled a prayer for his murderers, has
the shelter of paternal kindness been the portion of the enemy, whose
sword had drank the blood of the lost son? or the offices of fraternal
brother? Among the ancient Egyptians, Assyrians, and Grecians,
adoption by those who were childless, was a frequent usage. The Romans
enacted laws for its regulation. The Lacedemonians required that
it should be performed in the presence of their kings. The Turk, according
to the appointed ceremonies of Mahomet, invests the adopted with his
inner garment, or with his girdle; and the Gentoo offers sacrifices to his
gods. But the native American being in this respect “without law, is a
law unto himself;”
he adopts the foe who would have shed his blood,
without the pomp of prescribed ceremony, and with no sacrifice but that
which affection exacts of vengeance. In other instances, we behold this
race capable of degrees of virtue, as unexpected as they are unparalleled.
The natives of Hascala, a populous province, bordering upon Mexico, shocked
at the cruelties which marked the intrusion of the Spaniards, attacked
them with impetuous bravery and with vast superiority of numbers. But the
advantages arising from these circumstances, were entirely lost through their
solicitude to save the wounded and dying. To relieve the sufferers, and remove
them from further barbarity, divided the attention of the warrior even
in the heat of battle; and a scene unknown among civilized nations was displayed,
a sentiment of tenderness extinguishing victory. Afterwards, the
Hascalans, meditating another attack, generously apprized the invaders
of their hostile intentions, and knowing that a scarcity of provisions exsisted
among them, sent to their camp a large supply of poultry and maize;
“Eat plentifully,” said they, “for we scorn to attack enemies enfeebled
by hunger, and should blush to offer to our gods, famished and emaciated
victims.”
Yet these sons of nature had never heard the command, “If
thine enemy hunger, feed him; if he thirst, give him drink.”
Note 3.— Line 101. “Some with bloodOf human sacrifices, sought to appease” &c. Although the Mexicans were further advanced in refinement than any
of the aborigines of America, they were the slaves of a superstition which
was marked by the most barbarous sacrifices. At their first arrival near 16(3)r 185
the Lake of Tetzuco, from their ancient possessions, on the borders of the
Californian Gulf, they erected on the spot which they had selected for
their principal city, a temple to their tutelar god, which they consecrated
by the effusion of human blood. This event, according to their traditions,
and the simple annals preserved by their hieroglyphical paintings, occurred
in the year 13351335 of the Christian era. Following then through the variations
of their government, from its original form of aristocracy, to that
of elective monarchy, and ultimate despotism, combined with the feudal
spirit, we see the same stern religion preserving its sway unaltered, and
mingling with their civil institutions. Their political festivals were extended
with the sacrifice of human beings, and in their expiatory offerings
to their deities, they believed that “without shedding of blood was no remission.”
During the reigns of Tizoc, and his brother Ahuitzotl, a
temple was erected, which surpassed in magnificence all the structures of
Mexico, and at its completion in 14861486, it was consecrated with the blood
of more than 60,000 prisoners. Montezuma II, who was the ninth
Mexican sovereign, entered into a war with some neighbouring tribes, in
order to obtain victims for sacrifice at his coronation, and the cruel pageantry
of that scene was in accordance with the inclinations of his subjects.
The funeral rites of the Mexicans were sanguinary, particularly
at the death of any distinguished personage. At the decease of an emperor,
they slew a number of his principal attendants, and buried them in
the same tomb; supposing, like the ancient Scythians, that he would
have need of their assistance and counsel. The rites of their religion
were reduced to a regular system; but their divinities were clothed in
vengeance, and their priests perpetuated a worship of gloom and terrour.
Note 4.— Line 106. “Some with fruitsSweet flowers, and incense of their choicest herbsSought to propitiate Him” &c. The mild Peruvians who, at the time of the invasion of the Spaniards,
had made many attainments in the arts of civilization, had a form of religion
whose features were remarkably free from harshness and barbarity.
“The most singular and striking circumstance in their government,”
says Dr. Robertson , “was the influence of religion upon its genius and
laws. The whole system of their civil policy was founded upon religion. 16* 16(3)v 186
The Inca appeared not only as a legislator, but a messenger from
Heaven. The superstitions on which he engrafted his pretensions to
high authority, were of a different character from those established
among the Mexicans. By directing their veneration to that glorious luminary
which by its universal and vivifying energy is the best emblem of
divine beneficence, the rites and observances which they deemed acceptable
to Him were innocent and humane. They offered to the Sun a part
of the production which his genial warmth had called forth from the
bosom of the earth, and fostered to maturity. They sacrificed, as an
oblation of gratitude, some of the animals who were indebted to his influence
for nourishment. They presented to him choice specimens of those
works of ingenuity, which his light had guided the hand of man in forming,
but the Incas never stained his altars with human blood, nor conceived
that their beneficent father, the Sun, would be delighted with such
victims. Accordingly, the Peruvians, unacquainted with those barbarous
rites, which extinguish sensibility, and suppress the feelings of nature at
human sufferings, were formed by the spirit of the superstition they had
adopted, to a national character more gentle than that of any people in
America.”
The tribe of Chacmeheca’s who succeeded the ancient Toltecan
monarchy, which was situated in the neighbourhood of Mexico, also
paid homage to the Sun, as their tutelar divinity, and offered to him the
herbs and flowers which they found springing in the field. The Parent
of warmth and vegetation appeared to their untaught minds, as the Fountain
of existence and of hope; and how much more elevated was the
choice of their Paganism, than that of the polished Egyptians, who, in
their absurd worship of vegetables, noxious reptiles, and the lifeless formations
of Nature, clearly evinced, that the “world by wisdom knew not
God.”
Note 5.— Line 109. “Some, with mystic rites,The ark, the orison, the paschal feast,” &c. Such a marked diversity of customs, and religious rites, is found
among the aborigines of America, that they must be considered as the
mingled offspring of different nations, who in various ages have become
inhabitants of this western hemisphere. The Peruvians, in their ancient
offerings, like a sect of the Persians, recognized the Sun as the Parent of 16(4)r 187
their joys, and the supreme object of their adoration. Some of the eastern
tribes of South America preserve a tradition that their ancestors migrated
from the African continent. The Toltecas, originally bordering upon
Mexico, and celebrated for their superiour knowledge, which comprised
some branches of agriculture, together with the art of cutting gems, and
casting gold and silver into various forms, possessed some ancient paintings,
which represented the passage of their ancestors through Asia, and
the north-western countries of America. The Mexicans who, in the
barbarity of their religious sacrifices, point to the blood-stained altars of
Carthage, in the style of their architecture, the construction of pyramidal
edifices, the use of hieroglyphicks, and the mode of computing time, lead
us back to the institutions of ancient Egypt. This similarity has so forcibly
impressed the minds of some learned writers, particularly Siguenza,
and Bishop Huet, that they have designated the Mexicans as the descendants
of Naphtahim, the son of Mizraim, and nephew of Ham. The Esquimaux
recognizes his sires in the north of Europe, and by a variety of
customs proves his affinity. The Mohawks, from the peculiarity of their
language, composed entirely without labials, so that they never close their
lips in speaking, and from the superiority which they assumed over the
surrounding tribes, seem also to claim a distinct origin. The Abbe Clavigero
supposes that the ancestors of those nations who peopled the country
of Anahuac, passed from the northeastern parts of Asia to the western
extremity of America. Amid the variety of customs which distinguish
the different tribes, some have been observed so similar to those of ancient
Israel, that they have given rise to conjecture, that some of the ten tribes,
who, after the Assyrian invasion in 0720721, (B.C.) were long in a wandering
state, might have been allured to pass, with other emigrants, the narrow strait
which separates the Old from the New World. This opinion received
strength from the circumstance, that among some of the natives, the name
of their Supreme Being was Tchewah, evidently resembling the Hebrew
Jehovah, that the word “Hallelujah”, occurred in their songs of
praise, that they bear upon their shoulders to battle a consecrated Ark,
which is never suffered to touch the earth, and the mysteries of whose interior
they guard with the most jealous care. Traditions of the murder
in Eden, of original longevity, the general deluge, the saving of the
righteous pair, the bird sent from the ark, who returned with a verdant 16(4)v 188
branch, the confusion of tongues, the anger of the Great Spirit at the
building of a high place, which the pride of man contemplated should
reach the heavens, and many more, evidently derived from the Scriptures,
are preserved among them. Some of the early settlers, who had an opportunity
of observing their character before its debasement, traced in their
religious offerings and festivals a similarity to the Jewish ritual. Intelligent
men, who have resided among them as traders, or surveyed them as
travellers and missionaries, have occasionally gathered traits of resemblance
to the peculiar people; and some learned men have been inclined to credit
this hypothesis, by a comparison of their language with the ancient Hebrew.
“Dr. Buchanan,” says a judicious writer, “supposes the ten
tribes of Israel, to be now in the country of their first captivity; but this
by no means precludes the possibility of individuals having migrated northward
and eastward to the American continent. he speaks of the white
and the black Jews of Asia: we know that there are also white Jews in
Europe, and black Jews in Africa; and why, since they are scattered,
the distinguished people, may there not be red Jews in America?”
Note 6.— Line 121. “The crystal tubeOf calm inquiry, to thy patient eye,Meek Boudinot! reveal’d an unknown starUpon this western cloud.” This refers to the Star in the West, a work which attempts to
prove the descent of some of our aborigines, from the dispersed Israelites;
written by the late Hon. Judge Boudinot, the venerable Sire and Patron
of the American Bible Society. He asserts, that if the descendants of
exiled Israel could now be identified, on any spot of the globe, we should
not find, after the revolution of twenty-five centuries, the traces of similarity
more striking; and that, admitting the affinity of our roving tribes with
the peculiar people, it would be impossible not to be surprised at perceiving
so many rites and traditions unimpaired, when to the lapse of ages is
added the absence of a written language, of a temple, of a regular government,
even of a permanent abode, and the vice, degradation, and misery,
which, since their subjugation by the Europeans, has involved them in a
darkness like midnight. He is strengthened in his theory by a passage
from the Apocrypha, where Esdras “in his vision beheld the ten tribes 16(5)r 189
who were carried captive by Shalmanezer, in the time of Hosea their king,
taking counsel to leave the multitude, and go into a country where mankind
never dwelt, that they might keep the statues which they never
kept in their own land, and remain there until the latter times.”
INTERNAL ERROR. Please report to wwp@neu.edu that regMe is unmatched.2 Esdras,
xiii, 40.
The Rev. Dr. Jarvis, in his interesting Discourse on the Religion
of the Indian Tribes
, supposes them to be the descendants of Noah, who
migrated to this continent, after the great dispersion of mankind. This
theory, which accounts for many of the traditions preserved among them,
is also adopted by Mr. Faber, so well known by his learned dissertations
on the Prophecies.
Note 7.— Line 172. “Their weak, exhausted hands they prestOn their wan lips, and in the lowly dustLaid them despairing.” Missionaries and traders have occasionally observed among the different
tribes, the custom of pressing the hand upon the lips, and laying the
mouth in the dust, in cases of deep bereavement. Some have supposed
it the dictate of Nature in the humiliation of suffering. Others have
traced in it a resemblance to the expression of grief in ancient Israel; and
have been reminded of the passages in Job, Solomon, and Jeremiah:
“Mark me, and be astonished, and lay your hand on your mouth.”
“Behold, I am vile! what shall I answer thee? I will lay my hand
upon my mouth.”
“If thou hast done foolishly, in lifting up thyself, or
if thou hast thought evil, lay thy hand upon thy mouth.”
“He putteth
his mouth in the dust, if so be, there may be hope.”
Note 8.— Line 186. “To the poor Greenlander reveal’d the danceOf happy spirits.” The imagination of the inhabitants of Greenland traces in the Aurora
Borealis
, the dance of sportive souls. They suppose the place of torment
for the wicked to be in the subterranean regions, where darkness and terrour
reign, without hope. They believe in two Great Spirits, the good
and the evil, and in various subordinate grades of ethereal beings, resembling
the major and minor gods of the ancient heathens. When a friend
is in the conflict of death, they array him in his best apparel, and when 16(5)v 190
the last change has marked his countenance, bewail his loss, and prepare
for his interment. They deposit in his grave instruments of labour, and
darts for defence, and returning to the house of mourning, the men sit
silent with uncovered faces, while the females prostrate themselves on the
earth. The nearest relative pronounces an eulogy on the virtues of the
departed, and at every pause their grief becomes more audible. The
ceremonies of mourning are continued at intervals for months, and sometimes
for a year; though its bitterness diminishes after the period which
they allot for the perilous journey to the eternal regions. They believe
that the spirits of the departed are occasionally permitted to revisit the
earth, and reveal themselves to the former objects of their attachment.
Some of the first missionaries who visited this people, supposed that the
idea of a Divine Being was in some degree familiar to their minds, since
they so readily received the knowledge of his attributes, and the most
stupid among them were struck with horror at the thought of the annihilation
of the soul.
Note 9.— Line 208. “Thus, the warlike EarlStern Seward, in his armour brac’d, erect,Met grisly Death.” Seward, Earl of Northumberland, feeling in his last sickness, that dissolution
approached, quitted his bed, and encircled himself with his armour.
To the inquiries of his attendants, he answered, “It becometh not a
brave man to die like a beast.”
Standing, and with an undaunted countenance,
he met death, closing his life of intrepidity, by an act equally
singular and heroic.
Note 10.— Line 214. “Others toward the EastWith faces turn’d, repose.” The natives of Patagonia bury their dead on the eastern shores, and
with their faces turned toward the rising Sun, where they say was the
country of their ancestors. Bougainville, and others, have suggested
their resemblance to the roving Tartars. Like them they traverse immense
plains, constantly on horseback, clothing themselves with the skins
of wild beasts, which they destroy in the chase, and occasionally pillaging
travellers, who cross their path, or interrupt their career.
16(6)r 191 Note 11.— Line 219. “Weed nor thorn,Might choke the young turf springing.” Among some of our aborigines, the graves of departed friends are
guarded with the most delicate and jealous affection. They suffer no
weeds to take root upon them, and frequently visit them with lamentations.
This tender and sacred sentiment is expressed in an effusion of
simple eloquence, which bears the antiquity of nearly 200 years. In one
of the earliest records of the settlement of Massachusetts, it is mentioned
that the Indian monuments of the dead had been defaced by the whites at
Passonagessit, and the grave of the Sachem’s Mother plundered of some
skins that had decorated it. Gathering together his people, in the first
moments of his grief and indignation, he thus addressed them: “When
last the glorious light of this sky was underneath the globe, when the
birds grew silent, I began to settle, as my custom is, to take my repose.
But ere my eyes were fast closed, I saw a vision at which my soul was
troubled. As I trembled at the fearful sight, a spirit uttered its voice:—
‘Behold! my Son, whom I have cherished. See the hands that covered,
and fed thee oft. Wilt thou forget to take revenge of those wild people,
who have disturbed my ashes, disdaining our sacred customs? See now!
the Sachem’s grave lies, like one of the common people’s, defiled by an
ignoble race. Thy Mother doth complain. She implores thine aid
against this thievish people, newly intruding themselves into our land. If
this be suffered, can I rest quietly in my everlasting habitations?’
Then
the Spirit vanished, and I, trembling, and scarce able to speak, began to
get some strength, and recollect my thoughts that had fled, determining
to ask your counsel and assistance.”
Note 12.— Line 224. “Thus the Scythian tribesWandering without a City, call’d to guardNor dome, nor temple, took their dauntless standUpon their fathers’ sepulchres,” &c. Rollin, in his interesting history of the expedition of Darius against
the Sycthians, relates the embarrassment which he suffered in being unable
to bring that roving people to a regular engagement. “Prince of the
Scythians,”
said he, “why do you continually fly before me?” “If I fly 16(6)v192
before thee, Prince of Persia,”
he replied, “it is not because I fear thee.
We, Scythians, have neither cities or lands to defend, yet come! attack
the tombs of our fathers, and thou shalt find what manner of men we are.”

Soon after, they exemplified another singular trait of character, by sending
a herald to Darius, with a present of a bird, a mouse, a frog, and five
arrows. The monarch exclaimed with joy, “Now they acknowledge
subjection, and by these emblems yield to me the dominion of their lands
and waters, of their warriors, and even of the atmosphere they breathe.”

But Gobryas, one of his officers, who was better versed in the hieroglyphics
of Scythia, correctly interpreted this typical message:—“Unless
the Persians can ascend into the air like birds, conceal themselves in earth
like mice, or beneath the waters like frogs, it is not possible for them to
escape the Scythain arrows.”
Note 13.— Line 257. “Ericke steer’dFrom that lone isle which Nature’s poising handCast ’tween the Continents.” It is generally admitted that the northern parts of America were settled
by the Scandinavians, several countries before the expedition of Columbus.
Ericke Raude, so named on account of his red hair, is considered as the
original discoverer of those inhospitable regions. Having past a winter
on the coast of Greenland, he returned to Iceland, and persuaded many
of his countrymen to accompany him, and undertake the establishment of
a colony. He assured them that the country which he had found, abounded
in fish, and exhibited such a verdant appearance, that he had assigned
it the name of Groenland, or Greenland. Twenty-five ships, filled with
Icelanders and Norwegians, attended him in consequence of these representations;
but it is said that only fourteen sustained the inclemencies of
the voyage. The establishment of this colony bears date, according to
Torfæus, in his Groenlandia Antiqua, in the year 0982982; yet it would
seem to have been of earlier origin, by the bull of Pope Gregory 4th,
issued in 0835835, and committing the conversion of the Greenlanders and
Icelanders, to the first northern apostle, Ansgarius. This colony assumed
the appearance of prosperity, and in 12611261, voluntarily submitted
to the sceptre of Norway, and was governed by a Norwegian viceroy,
according to the laws of Iceland. It was considerably harassed by the 17(1)r 193
natives, who were denominated Skrællings, and whose origin is traced
to the North East regions of Tartary. Driven from their country by
imperious and potent enemies, they crossed the straits of Bherring, and
gradually passing to the east and north, began their hostilities against the
Icelandic colony in the 1001 < x < 1100eleventh century. They gained great ascendancy
over it about the year 13501350, when it had been enfeebled by the ravages
of pestilence; and in the course of two or three centuries nearly exterminated
it. The small remnant of European settlers were driven from
the western toward the eastern shores, and compelled to incorporate themselves
with their conquerors. Some of them, however, retreated to the
inlets between the mountains, and like the Welch still preserve the character
of an unconquered people.
Note 14.— Line 279. “Say, Darwin! Fancy’s son” Dr. Darwin’s plan of navigating southward those tremendous masses
of ice, which for ages have been accumulating amid the polar regions, in
order to allay the fervour of the tropics, is one of the many visionary theories
of that splendid poet and eccentric philosopher.
Note 15.— Line 289. “Shaming the brief domeWhich Russia’s empress-queen bade the chill boorQuench life’s frail lamp to rear.” The Ice Palace, erected in the year 17401740, by the Empress Anne, of
Russia, was 52 feet in length, and when lighted exhibited the most splendid
appearance. Yet to a reflecting mind, its brilliance must have been
dimmed by the recollection, that many lives were sacrificed to its construction,
by the severity of cold. The description of this singularly beautiful
structure, by the poet Cowper, is in accordance with that purity and elegant
simpicity, which characterizes his numbers. “Silently, as a dream the fabric rose; No sound of hammer, or of saw was there. Ice upon ice, the well-adjusted parts Were soon conjoin’d; nor other cement ask’d Than water interfus’d, to make them one. Lamps gracefully dispos’d, and of all hues Illumin’d every side; a watery light 17 17(1)v 194 Gleam’d through the clear transparency, that seem’d Another moon new ris’n, or meteor fall’n From heaven to earth, of lambent flame serene, So stood the brittle prodigy, though smooth And slippery the materials, yet frost-bound, Firm as a rock. Nor wanted aught within That royal residence might well befit, For grandeur or for use. Long wavy wreaths Of flowers that fear’d no enemy but warmth, Blush’d on the pannels. Mirror needed none, Where all was vitreous; but in order due, Convivial table, and commodious seat, (What seem’d at least commodious seat) were there: Sofa, and couch, and high-built throne august. The same lubricity was found in all, And all was moist to the warm touch: a scene Of evanescent glory, once a stream, And soon to slide into a stream again.”
Note 16.— Line 315. “To their humble cellsCame holy men, by pious Olaf’s zealWing’d on their mission.” Olaf, or Olaus, a Norwegian king, having renounced heathenism, sent
a priest to Greenland, early in the 0901 < x < 1000tenth century for the conversion of the
inhabitants. His exertions were successful, and the whole colony embraced
Christianity. In the year 11221122, they chose a Norwegian bishop,
and a regular succession in the Episcopacy was preserved, until the year
14061406, when the last of seventeen bishops was sent over. Darkness for
a time overspread the religious prospects of this people; like that which
enveloped ancient Israel, when the harp of prophecy was broken in the
hand of Malachi, and for more than three centuries there was no divine
communication. But in the year 17211721, a pious clergyman of Norway,
by the name of Hans Egede, whose heart had long been moved by the
wretchedness of the Greenlanders, resolved, notwithstanding the obstructions
that were cast in the way of his enterprize, to bear to that inhospitable 17(2)r 195
region the glad tidings of salvation. He was accompanied by about
forty adventurers, who aided him in imparting a knowledge of those arts
which advance the comfort of the present life; while, with the most condescending
attention, the most faithful diligence, and under the pressure
of almost unexampled hardships, he taught the precepts of a religion,
whose benevolence he exemplified. After sustaining the arduous duties
of a missionary almost forty years, he closed his honourable and pious
life, at the age of seventy-three, and to him, and to his son, Paul Egede,
we are indebted for an ample and authentic account of modern Greenland.
The Moravian also, whose zeal in diffusing the blessings of religion, cannot
be too highly appreciated, extended the exertions of their Christian
love to this desolate region. Perhaps it is without parallel in the annals
of benevolence, that a Society so restricted in pecuniary resources, so
afflicted by persecution as to have been reduced to about six hundred individuals,
should display the missionary spirit in such unbroken strength
and splendour. After the oppressions of the Church of Rome, when they
had taken refuge on the estates of Count Zizendorf in Lusatia, they
sent, in the space of nine years, missionaries to Greenland, to South-America,
to Algiers, to Guinea, to Lapland, to the West-Indian and Nicobar
islands
, to Ceylon, to the extremities of the Cape of Good Hope, and to
the wilds of Tartary. About the year 17331733, when the mission of Mr.
Egede
was so coldly patronized by government, and so overclouded by
misfortune, that it seemed ready to expire, the Moravians having resolved
to carry the gospel to Greenland, two of their venerable messengers arrived
on foot at Copenhagen, entreating permission to accomplish their
design. “How,” said one of the ministers of the crown of Denmark,
“do you maintain yourselves in that desolate region?” “By
the labour of our hands,”
they answered “and by the blessing of God.
We will build a house, and cultivate a piece of land, that we may not be
burdensome to any.”
The nobleman, perceiving that they were not fully
acquainted with the sterility of the country, replied, “There is no timber
there to build with.”
“Then,” said these devoted servants of the cross,
“we will dig a cavern in the earth, and lodge there.” These faithful
missionaries with others who from time to time were sent to their assistance,
suffered indescribably from the rigours of the climate, and the
ravages of famine and pestilence. Yet nothing extinguished the flame of 17(2)v 196
their benevolence, and they expressed themselves willing to prolong their
labours until death, to continue “to believe while there was nothing to
be seen, to hope when nothing was to be expected.”
Soon after their
arrival, the Small-Pox was communicated by a Greenlander who had returned
from Europe, and it assumed so malignant a form, that few who
were seized by it, survived beyond the third day. Destitute of the knowledge
of medicine, and of the comforts which alleviate disease, the wretched
natives stabbed themselves, or plunged into the sea, to put a period to
their sufferings. The Moravians, in company with Mr. Egede, hastened
from place to place, to impart assistance or consolation. Empty houses,
and unburied corpses, bleaching on the snow, every where shocked their
eyes. On one island, only one little girl, and her three brothers, survived.
Their father had buried all the inhabitants, and finding himself and his
youngest child smitten with the malady, lay down in a grave, with the
sick infant in his arms, commanding his daughter to cover them with
skins and stones, that their bodies might not be devoured by ravens and
foxes. In 17391739, the severity of that terrific climate was heightened to
an unusual degree, and snow fell in every month of the year. In 1739-03March,
the cold was so intense, that even glass and stones burst. Famine was
the consequence, and continued till 17571757, when it surpassed all that had
ever been imagined by the Europeans. “We found,” said the Missionaries,
“near a house that we visited, fifteen persons nearly starved to
death. They lay near each other, striving to preserve warmth, for they
had no fire, nor the least morsel to eat. For very faintness they did not
care to lift up themselves, or to speak to us. Four of their children were
already dead with hunger. At length a man brought a fish from the sea,
and a girl snatched it, raw as it was, and tore it in pieces with her teeth,
gorging it with violence. She looked pale as death, and was ghastly to
behold. We distributed among them our small pittance, and advised them
to endeavour to remove to our part of the land”
Children perished in
great numbers by famine, and old people were buried alive in order to save
the food that they would have consumed. The Missionaries participated
in these sufferings, till their strength was exhausted, and their constitutions
debilitated, yet occasional success in their spiritual work, caused them to
count their afflictions light. Settlements were formed at New Herrnhut,
Liehtenfels, and Lichtenau; and materials for two churches were sent 17(3)r 197
them from Europe, which were erected and partially filled with worshippers.
In the year 18141814, more than 1100 inhabitants belonged to these
three settlements, and the whole population of Greenland was estimated
at 7000. Since the commencement of the mission by Mr. Egede, which
has comprised a century, the number baptized is computed at about 5000.
The extension of this Note by an interesting extract from the 18th
volume of the Quarterly Review, will be forgiven by minds who have felt
solicitude in the extension of truth, or sympathy for the privations of its
messengers. It is a forcible delineation of the feelings of a missionary
and his family, during the gloom and loneliness of a Greenland winter,
and is drawn from the manuscripts of Saabye, a grandson of that venerated
apostle Hans Egede. “They have one bright epoch; for it is a happy
time, when the ice is loosed from the rocky coast, and they can expect
the arrival of the vessel which alone reaches their solitude. Often deceived
by the floating Ice-berg, forming itself in mockery late into the shape
of their friendly visitant, at length they see the white sails, the towering
masts, the blessed guest riding at anchor in the bay. By this vessel their
wants are supplied. The active and pious housewife busies herself in
arranging the stores of the ensuing twelvemonth. There are letters too,
from friends, and from relations, and books, and newspapers; and banished
as they are, they live again in Denmark, in ‘their father-land.’ The
hour of enjoyment soon glides away; the ship sails; the Missionary and
the partner of his toils remain behind, solitary and forsaken. To this
season of sadness succeeds the gloom of the polar night. A few days
before the --11-2626th of November, Saabye was accustomed to climb the high
rocks, from whence at noon he could just see the sun shining with a soft
and pallid light; and then the sun sank, and he bade farewell to the eye
of creation with heaviness and grief. Dubious twilight lingered till the
beginning of --12December; then darkness ruled. The stream near which
Saabye’s house was situated, roared beneath the ice; the sea dashed and
howled over the rocks, bursting in foam against his windows, and the
dogs filled the air with long continued moans. About the --01-1212th of January,
the rays of the rising sun glittered on the rocks, and suddenly faded,
like the high-raised hopes of man.”
17* 17(3)v 198 Note 17.— Line 334. “Madoc! wandering sonOf that unconquer’d clime.” From researches made by British Antiquarians, it appears that traditions
exist of the discovery of America, by Madoc ap Owen Guyneth, a
Welch Prince, in the year 11701170. It is asserted that a colony was planted
by him, west of the Mississippi, and that their descendants have at
various times been recognized by travellers. The fact has been recorded
also, by the ancient poets of Wales, and the celebrated Mr. Southey has
founded upon it one of the most interesting modern epic poems in the
English languatge. In Howel’s Letters, volume 2, page 71, it is recorded,
that Madoc ap Owen, Prince of Wales, made two voyages to America, at
the time specified; and the Welsh Cambria, translated into English, by
H. Lloyd, contains, in its 225th page, the reasons which induced that
Prince to undertake such an expedition. Some modern writers have employed
their pens in this investigation, among whom are Dr. Williams,
Rector of Sydenham, and the Rev. George Burder, late of Coventry,
England.
Note 18.— Line 337. “The treasure’d minstrelsyOf Taliesin’s harp.” Taliesin, who wrote in the 0501 < x < 0600sixth century, was one of the most celebrated
of the ancient Welch bards. His poems have been highly commended
by the amateurs of the old Cambrian minstrelsy. The affinity of
the language of Wales to the Hebrew, has rendered its study intersting
to many classical scholars; and recently, among the prizes offered in
Jesus College, Oxford, England, for the best six Englynion, on a passage
of Taliesin, beginning “Cymru fu, Cymru fydd.” The early taste of
the Welch, for poetry and music, is well known. The knowledge of the
harp was considered essential to the character of a prince and a hero; and
the bards received in the courts of their kings such dignity and honour,
as Homer asserts were enjoyed by Demodocus and Phemius, in the first
ages of Greece.
17(4)r 199 Note 19.— Line 376. “Perchance in his lone cellAt Vallodolid.” Columbus expired in obscurity, at Valladolid, on the 1508-05-2525th of May,
1508
, in his 59th year, exhausted by hardships and infirmities. The
discoverer of America, like the conqueror of Mexico, found the close of
his days rendered wretched by the persecution of enemies, and the chilling
indifference of those from whom he had expected patronage and consolation.
Note 20.— Line 386. “Mark’d thy seersMid the dim vista of futurityOught like the step of Cortes?” It is recorded by Robertson, that an opinion prevailed almost universally
among the Mexicans, that some dreadful calamity would befall their
country, by means of formidable invaders who should come from regions
towards the rising sun. Their superstitious credulity saw in the Spaniards
the instruments of that fatal revolution which they dreaded, and this in
some measure accounts for the success of Cortes, with his ill-appointed
force, over the monarch of a great and populous empire.
When the spoilers, in descending from the mountains of Chalco, caught
their first view of the vast plain of Mexico, interspersed with fertile and
cultivated fields, enriched with a lake resembling the sea in extent, whose
banks were encompassed with large towns, and whose bosom was beautified
with an island, where rose the capital city, adorned with its temples and
turrets, they were impressed at once with a conviction of the great wealth
of the country, and with an irresistable desire to possess it. After the humiliating
death of Montezuma, and the more barbarous subjugation of
Guatimozin, the imperial city yielded to its conquerors, 1521-08-21August 21,
1521
, after sustaining a siege of 75 days. This event, the most
memorable of any in the conquest of America, preceded the death of
Cortes 25 years. The neglect of his country embittered the declining
life of the victor; and it was decreed, that the punishment of his injustice
and cruelty should be inflicted, not by the vengeance of those whom he
had injured, but by the ingratitude of those he had served.
17(4)v 200 Note 21.— Line 400. “Deep were thy prison sighs,Ahatualpa.” The annals of the crimes of man are darkened with no blacker instance
of perfidy, than that of Pizarro to the unfortunate monarch of Peru.
Confiding in the protestations of the Spaniard, he advanced to the distance
of a league from his city, to pay him a visit of respect. Pizarro instructed
a priest to proclaim some of the articles of the Popish faith,
strangely intermixed with the claims of the crown of Spain upon the New
World, to which Ahatualpa not immediately assenting, the desperado
seized him as his prisoner, and gave the signal of assault upon his followers.
The carnage continued till the close of day, and the Peruvians, unprepared
for combat, and ignorant of the mode of European warfare, left
4000 dead upon the field, without scarcely making an impression upon
the phalanx of their enemies. The imprisoned Inca made liberal offers
for his ransom, and his subjects, like those of Richard Coeur de Lion,
would have stripped the churches of their consecrated gold, to purchase
liberty for their beloved sovereign. The apartment in which he was confined
was 22 feet in length and 16 in breadth, and Pizarro demanded that
it should be filled with vessels of gold, as high as he could reach. The
line of demarcation was drawn upon the wall—the Peruvians hastened to
heap the gold to the standard which avarice had prescribed, but with abominable
treachery the Inca was detained in captivity. He was brought to
a mock trial, and condemned to be burnt alive. The miserable monarch
was offered, at the place of doom, that alternative which is allowed the
victims of the Auto da fe, by the mercy of the Inquisition, to confess
the Romish faith, and be strangled at the stake, or continue in heresy,
and endure the anguish of the flame. Ahatualpa bowed to the baptismal
font, and fell an immediate victim to the fury of those who, professing the
“name of Christ, in works denied him.” This execrable deed was perpetrated
in the year 15331533; and on the 1541-06-2626th of June 1541 , Pizarro was
destroyed by conspiracy in the city of Lima. The record of his fame is
stained with atrocious barbarity; and he may be characterized, as the inhabitants
of Melita unjustly designated the shipwrecked apostle, as “a
murderer, whom, though he had escaped the sea, yet vengeance suffered
not to live.”
17(5)r 201 Note 22.— Line 421. “The Lusitanian bandsCame flocking.” The discovery of Brazil is usually placed in the year 15001500. The
honour of that event is ascribed to Perez Alvarez Cabral, a Portugese
naval commander. He originally gave it the name of Santa Cruz, but
this was changed to Brazil, by King Emmanuel. The derivation of the
latter name is from Brasas, a Portugese word, signifying glowing fire,
of a red coal
, which colour resembles that produced by the celebrated
tree ibiritanga, commonly called Brazil wood, with which that country
abounds.
Note 23.— Line 433. “Snatch’d for themselves a cold Acadia, whiteWith frost, and drifted snow.” Acadia, the original name given by the French to Nova-Scotia, was
their first possession in the New World. It was granted, in the year
16031603, to De Mons, with somewhat indefinite boundaries, by Henry IV,
of France. Settlements were made in Canada, five years after, by the
same nation. Quebec, the capital was reduced by General Wolfe in
17591759, the year after his conquest of Cape Breton, or Isle Royale.
The whole of Canada was ceded to Great-Britain, by the treaty at Paris,
in 17631763.
Note 24.— Line 436. “As Nilus ’mid the Abyssinian wastesUnseals through fringed reeds and willows dankHis azure eyes.” The small source whence the St. Lawrence takes its rise, reminds us
of the two parent springs of the Nile, whose size Rollin compares to that
of a coach-wheel. They are, he remarks, thirty paces distant from each
other, and are sometimes called eyes, “the same word, in Arabic, signifying
both eye and fountain.”
Note 25.— Line 454. “Poor German exile.” The emigration from Germany to the United States, has been greatest
in recent times, than has generally been imagined. Only in the short 17(5)v 202
period included between 1817-07-12July 12th, 1817, and the beginning of the year
18181818, nineteen vessels arrived, bringing passengers to the number of
6000. They were of every age, from infancy to eighty years, and many
of them so poor, that they were compelled to bind themselves out for a
term of service, to defray the expenses of their scantily provided passage.
M. von Fürstenwärther, who was officially appointed to examine the situation
of his countrymen who had emigrated to the United States, reports,
that “the ships made use of in this service, are commonly of the worst
quality, old and unseaworthy, and the commanders ignorant, inexperienced,
and brutal. I was on board of a vessel at the Helder, 1817-07-07July 7th, 1817,
which had formerly been a Russian ship of the line, which a Dutchman
had bought for the sake of carrying German emigrants to Philadelphia.
There were already four or five hundred souls on board, and the vessel
was not to sail without her complement of passengers. I have found the
misery of most of the German emigrants greater, and the condition of all
more forlorn and helpless than I could have imagined. A ship arrived
from Amsterdam at Baltimore, in the summer of 18171817, the greater part
of whose passengers had not paid their freight. Two families were bought
by free negroes in Maryland, but the Germans resident in Baltimore
were so disgusted, that they immediately rebought them, and formed an
association to prevent the recurrence of any such degrading abuse.”
“Laws have been passed in Philadelphia,” says the North-American
Review
, “for the protection of German redemptioners; and by these it
was established, that the extreme term of service, in ordinary cases, for
adults, is four years, and two years for the shortest term. Children under
four years old, are not bound, but follow their parents; males over
four, are bound to serve till they are 21, and females till they are eighteen
years old.”
—Stern realities, to those who parted from their native country
with the expectation of finding in America something like Eden restored.
Note 26.— Line 482. “Still thy breast concealsThe feudal spirit.” “In Germany the feudal institutions still subsist with great vigour.
Its great princes possess all the feudal privileges.”
Robertson’s Scotland.
17(6)r 203 Note 27.— Line 494. “The form of Condé gleamsAs when at Jarnac, rising o’er his wounds.” The intrepid Condé approached the battle of Jarnac, which was sustained
by the Huguenots with such constancy in the year 15691569, with an arm
debilitated and in a state of suffering. Entering the field, his leg also was
broken, by the accidental rearing of the horse of his brother in law. Rising
superior to pain, he exclaimed to his followers, “Nobility of France!
know, that the prince of Condé, with an arm in a scarf, and a leg broken,
fears not to give battle, since you attend him.”
After displaying prodigies
of valour, he was found, exhausted with fatigue, surrounded, and
taken captive. He was placed at the foot of a tree, by those who had
made him their prisoner, and, while in this defenceless condition, was barbarously
shot by Montesquieu, a captain in the guards of the Duke of
Anjou
, whose master was supposed to have instigated the infamous deed,
from motives of personal animosity. The persecuted Huguenots ever
cherished with tender gratitude the memory of their great benefactor.
We may trace a strong expression of this affectionate sentiment, in the
fact recorded by Heriot, in his travels through the Canadas, that the
name of Condé was given, by the early French settlers, to Lake Superior,
as if they were anxious that his fame should find a monument in the most
magnificent body of fresh and pellucid waters which the globe affords.
Note 28.— Line 505. “His eye that Hero turn’dToward the New World.” It is well known that Admiral Coligny had contemplated a removal
with the Hugenots, where, enjoying liberty of conscience, they might be
enabled without dread of death to say, “after the way which ye call heresy,
so worship we the God of our fathers.”
Permission had actually been
accorded him, to conduct his adherents to the Floridas, but the design
was deferred until the commencement of hostilities detained him to exhibit,
on the continent of Europe, the invincible firmness and constancy of his
character. He was the first victim of the diabolical massacre at Paris, on 17(6)v 204
1572-08-24St. Bartholemew’s day, 1572. Having been previously wounded by a
hired assassin, and disenabled from defending himself, he was murdered in
his chamber by a party led on by his implacable enemy, the Duke of
Guise.
18(1)r 205

Notes
to
Canto Second.

Note 1.— Line 24. “—still their eyes were bentIn the dark caverns of the earth to gropeFor drossy ore.” The thirst of gold, which excited both the enterprize and the barbarity
of the settlers of South-America, pervaded in some degree the colonists
of Virginia. About the year 16071607, a glittering earth was discovered in
the channel of a small stream near Jamestown, and from that time, says
Stith in his history, “there was no thought, no discourse, no hope, and
no work, but to dig gold, wash gold, refine gold, and load gold.”
Capt.
Smith’s
representations of the folly of such conduct had no effect, and
they persisted in loading a vessel for England with this drossy dust.
“Two vessels,” says Judge Marshall, “returned thither in the spring
and summer of 16081608, one laden with this dust, and the other with cedar:
the first remittances ever made from America by an English colony.”
Note 2.— Line 45. “The Poet lur’dHis muse to emigrate.” Among the colonists of New England, who came under the protection
of the son of Sir Ferdinando Gorges, in 16231623, was the Rev. William
Morrell
, an Episcopal Clergyman, bearing a Commission from the Ecclesiastical
Court
in England to exercise superintendancy over such
churches as might be established in the new region. He was a man of 18 18(1)v 206
classical taste, and described that part of the country which he explored, in
an elegant Latin poem, a few specimens of which are subjoined with an
attempt at translation. But he early made the discovery that the climate
was uncongenial to his favourite art, and too frigid for the expansion of
genius, and he returned to his native country, after an absence of one
year.
“Hactenus ignotam populis ego carmine primus, Te Nova, de veteri cui contigit Anglia nomen, Aggredior trepidus pingui celebrare Minerva. Fer mihl numen opem, cupienti singula plectro Pandere veridico, quæ nuper vidimus ipsi: Ut brevitèr vereque sonent modulamina nostra, Temperiem cœli, vim terræ, munera ponti, Et varios gentis mores, velamina cultus. Anglia felici merito Nova nomine gaudens, Sœvos nativi mores pertœsi colini, Indigni penitùs populi tellure feraci, Mœsta superfusis attollit fletibus ora, Antiquos precibus flectens ardentibus Anglos, Numinus æterni felicein lumine gentem Efficere; ætternis, quæ nune peritura tenebris. Sunt etenim populi minimi sermonis, et oris Austeri, risusque partim, sœvique superbi; Constricto nodis hirsuto crine sinistro, Imparibus formis tendentes ordine villos; Mollia magnanima peragentes otia gentes, Arte sagittiferâ pollentes, cursibus, armis Astutæ; recto, robusto corpore et alto, Pellibus indutæ cervinis, frigora eontra Aspera. Num sua lunari distinguunt tempora motu, Non quot Phoœbus habet cursus, sed quot sua conjux Expletus vicibus convertat Cynthia cursus, Noctibus enumerant sua tempora, nulla diebus, Mosque düs India est inservire duobus, Quorum mollis, amans, bona dans, inimica, repellens 18(2)r 207 Unus, amore bonum vererantur: at invidus alter, Dizos effundens cum turbine, fulgura nimbos. Afficiensque malis variis morbisque nefandis, Et violentis: hune gelidà formidine adorant.” “Hail, unknown World! in shades so long enroll’d! My trembling voice reveals thee to the Old. I, of rude wit, and undistinguish’d name, Inscribe thy record on the scroll of fame, Myself a stranger, choose the stranger’s theme, And first for thee invoke the poet’s dream: Oh! may some heavenly Muse th’ attempt inspire And pour her spirit o’er my shrinking lyre. Thy genial breezes bear the blush of health, Earth spreads her gifts, and Ocean yields his wealth, Yet ’mid thy happy lot incessant sighs Heave thy pure breast, and tears distain thine eyes, Thy abject race a speechless sorrow wakes, And still thine eye its supplication makes, For some blest beam to light their hopeless tomb, And snatch their souls from everlasting gloom. —Men, spare in language, and of brow austere, Averse from laughter, and in wrath severe, Supreme in strength the stubborn bow to wield, And bold in courage ’mid the blood-stain’d field; Men of proud spirit, and of fierce design, Tho’ oft in lingering indolence supine, Swift in the race as speeds the rushing storm. With wind-swept tresses, and majestic form, Clad in rude skins that mark the hunter’s toil. Throng the dark wild, but shun a cultur’d soil. Not by the smile which ardent Phœbus gives, When to her annual goal the Earth arrives, Not by the changes of revolving Day, Their time they measure, or existence weigh: But by the lamp which gentle Cynthia burns, 18(2)v 208 As round our orb her silver axle turns, And by the march of slow majestic Night, Whose tardy vigils mock the trembling light. —Two Pow’rs unseen, their humbled hearts confess, One, full of good, omnipotent to bless, And one, in clouds who veils his awful form, His sport the lightning, and his voice the storm: And this, through fear, with abject rites adore.” Another poet, also, at a still earlier period, hazarded a transportation
to our western clime. This was Stephen Parmenias, a man of
great learning, who was born at Buda, in Hungary, about the middle
of the 1501 < x < 160016th century. For the completion of his education, he visited
the most celebrated European universities, and during his residence
in England, forming a friendship for Sir Humphrey Gilbert, the half
brother of Sir Walter Raleigh, decided to accompany him in his expedition
to America, under the patronage of Queen Elizabeth. In the
summer of 15831583, they arrived at Newfoundland, and took possession
of it, in the name of the British crown. The Hungarian poet preserved
the memory of this expedition, in an elegant Latin poem, rich
with classical allusions, but on his return to Europe the same year,
unfortunately perished in a violent storm, together with the admiral,
and nearly a hundred of the crew. The poem alluded to, and likewise
a more particular account of this interesting Hungarian, may be
found in the ninth volume of the Collections of the Massachusetts
Historical Society
.
Note 3.— Line 75. “Thrice had he beheldHis fading race scatter’d like autumn leaves.” Powhatan told Captain Smith that he was “very old, and had seen
the death of all his people thrice, so that not one of the first generation
was living beside himself.”
Mr. Jefferson, in his Notes on
Virginia
, relates that at the first settlement of the English, the territories
of Powhatan, were said to comprise 8000 square miles.
18(3)r 209 No. 4.— Line 81. “The brave accomplish’d Smith.” Capt. John Smith, who accompanied the Colony, which, in 16071607,
planted itself at Jamestown, displayed so many uncommon talents,
suited to the exigencies of those difficult times, that the early historians
have been eloquent in his praise. Stith, in his History of Virginia,
written in the year 14741747, records in his antiquated style, the
testimony of the soliders, and fellow-adventurers of Smith. “They
confess that in that age, there were many captains who were no
soldiers, but that he was a soldier of the true old English stamp,
who fought, not for gain or empty praise, but for his country’s
honour and the public good; that his wit, courage and success
were worthy of eternal memory; that by the mere force of his
virtue and courage, he awed the Indian kings, and made them submit
and bring presents; that notwithstanding such a stern and
invincible resolution, there was seldom seen a milder and more
tender heart than his was; that he had nothing in him counterfeit
or sly; but was open, honest, and sincere, and that they never
knew a soldier before him, so free from the military vices of wine,
tobacco, debts, dice, and oaths.”
Judge Marshall, in his biography
of Washington, in describing the expedients which Capt. Smith
devised, and the dangers which he encountered for the protection
of the colony, remarks, that “he preserved his health unimpaired,
his spirits unbroken, and his judgment unclouded, amidst the genral
misery and dejection.”
After his liberation from captivity by
Powhatan, he concerted measures for the safety of the colony, and
the welfare of his government, he undertook a bold expedition to
explore the waters of the Chesapeake, and to make researches into
the countries upon its shores. “He entered,” says Marshall, “most
of the large creeks, and sailed up many of the great rivers to their
falls. He made accurate observations on the extensive territories
through which he passed, and on the various tribes inhabiting
them, with whom he alternately fought, negotiated and traded.
In the various situations in which he found himself, he always
displayed judgment, courage, and that presence of mind, which is
so essential to the character of a commander; and he never failed 18* 18(3)v 210
finally to inspire the savages whom he encountered, with the most
exalted opinion of himself, and of his nation. When we consider
that he sailed above three thousand miles in an open boat; when
we contemplate the dangers, the hardships, he endured, and the
fortitude, patience, and courage with which he bore them; when
we reflect on the useful and important additions which he made to
the stock of knowledge, respecting America, then possessed by his
countrymen, we shall not hesitate to say that few voyages of discovery,
undertaken at any time, reflect more honour on those
engaged in them, than this does on Captain Smith.”
Note 5.— Line 92. “—ere Manhood’s tinge had bronz’dHis blooming cheek.” Captain Smith was born at Willoughby in 17591759, and at the time
of his slavery in Constantinople, when most of the romantic adventures
of his life had terminated, the hero had only attained the
age of 23 years.
Note 6.— Line 171. “Where Marseilles retreatsTo rocky barrier.” Marseilles, the ancient Massilia, is situated at the foot of a
rocky mountain near the sea. Its natural advantages for commerce
were such, that its trade flourished even in the days of Gothic barbarism.
The politeness and literature of its early inhabitants,
were so conspicuous, that Livy pronounced it to have been as
much polished as if it had risen in the midst of Greece; and Cicero
denominated it the “Athens of the Gauls.”
Note 7.— Line 183. “Oft they describ’dThe cell with lingering rainbow ever bright.” The niche, in which the statue of the Virgin is placed in the
Casa Santa of the church at Loretto, is adorned among other
costly declarations, with 71 large Bohemian Topazes; near it
stands an angel of cast gold, profusely enriched with gems and
diamonds; and the lustre of the precious stones with which this
cell is ornamented, has been compared by pilgrims to a rainbow. 18(4)r 211
eclipsing the lamps with which it is contrasted. The chamber,
containing this statue, is alleged by the adherents of the Romish
church, to have been carried through the air by angels in the
month of 1291-05May, 1291, from Galilee to Tersato, in Dalmatia. From
thence it was removed in the same manner, after having reposed
somewhat more than four years, and set down in a wood in
Italy, about midnight in the month of 1291-12December, where it remained
nearly 200 years, before it was noticed by any author of that
country.
Note 8.— Line 302. “Almost it seem’dThat the strange fable caught from Pagan lore.” The doctrines of Purgatory, which some have derived from the
Platonic fancies of Origen, the Montanism of Tertullian, pretended
visions, or doubtful expressions of the later fathers, was introduced
in part towards the close of the 0401 < x < 0500fifth century, but not positively
affirmed till the year 11401140, nor made an article of faith, till the
council of Trent.
Note 9.— Line 377. “And ‘seas of flame.’” Moscow, in its conflagration, was emphatically compared to an
“Ocean of flame.”
Note 10.— Line 441. “There Samos spreadHer beauteous harbours o’er the violet wave,While in perspective soft her green fields gleam’dIn semi-annual harvest.” Between Samos and Icaria, the intensely deep blue colour of
the water has been noticed by voyagers; and in the Childe
Harolde
of Lord Byron, it is denominated the “dark blue sea.”
Athenæus relates, that in Samos, the fig-trees, apple-trees, rose-
trees, and vines, bore fruit twice in a year.
Note 11.— Line 446. “Rosy Rhodes.” The etymology of Rhodes, has been sought in the Greek word
“Rhodon”, signifying a rose, with which flower that island 18(4)v 212
abounded. The classical traveller, Clarke, observes, “from the
number of appellations it has borne at different periods, it might
at last have received the name of the Polynoman Island. It has
been called Ophiusa, from the number of its serpents; Telchynis;
Corymbria; Trinacria; Æthræa, from its cloudless sky; Asteria,
because at a distance its figure appears like that of a star; Poessa;
Atabyria; Oloessa; Macaria, and Pelagia. Some are of opinion
that Rhodes was first peopled by the descendants of Dodanim, the
fourth son of Javan. Both the Septuagint and Samaritan translation
of the Pentateuch, instead of Dodanium use Rodonim; and
by this appellation the Greeks always distinguished the Rhodians.”
Note 12.— Line 449. “Those golden showers which testified the loveOf ardent Phœbus.” The exuberant fertility of the soil of this island gave occasion
to those fables embellished by the poets, of golden showers which
they pretended to have fallen upon it. They feigned also a story of
the love of Phœbus for Rhodes, and asserted it to have been an uninhabitable
marsh, until it was loved by him, and drawn from the
waters by his powerful influence. But now, under Turkish oppression,
the island no longer merits the appellation of “fortunate”; and
the golden showers of fiction, are changed to the iron influence of
tyranny and desolation.
Note 13.— Line 563. “Vespasian’s Coliseum, where the Goth,—Stood in amazement.” The Coliseum, sometimes called the Flavian amphitheatre, was
commenced by Flavius Vespasian, in the year 007272, but finished by
Titus, who employed upon it such of the Jews, as were brought in
slavery to Rome. This vast structure was viewed with wonder by
the Gothic conquerors; and the venerable Bede records a proverbial
expression of the pilgrims of the north, by which in the 0701 < x < 08008th
century
they testified their admiration: “As long as the Coliseum
stands, will Rome stand, when the Coliseum falls, Rome must fall,
and with Rome, the world shall fall.”
18(5)r 213 Note 14.— Line 578. “—through the wreckOf Devastation’s wantonness.” Notwithstanding the Coliseum had in various instances been the subject
of dilapidation, had furnished stone for the construction of the Farnese
Palace
, by Michael Angelo, and had even been thrown open as a
common quarry, in the 1301 < x < 140014th century, for the use of the multitude, yet in
the middle of the 1501 < x < 160016th century, its exterior circumference of 1612 feet
still remained inviolate, and a triple elevation of fourscore arches was preserved,
rising to the height of 108 feet.
Note 15.— Line 579. “Where the pavilion with its purple pomp.” Persons of the highest dignity had places assigned to them in a part of
the ampitheatre called the Podium, near the centre of which was the
Imperial Pavilion, lined with silk, and embellished in the most splendid
manner.
Note 16.— Line 582. “The Cunei, dividing with strict carePatrician from Plebeian.” The Cunei distinguished the seats appointed for the different classes of
the people, so that every one might be conducted to the place allotted, by
the laws of the ampitheatre, to his respective rank. The strictest attention
was exercised, lest any might obtain a dignity of station to which he
was not entitled; and the Cunei were under the direction of officers called
Locarii, while the general care of the Coliseum was entrusted to the
grand Villicus amphitheatri.
Note 17.— Line 590. “Those Vomitories, whence the noisy crowdIssu’d abrupt.” The entrances to the passages and stair-cases were styled Vomitories;
and the crowd passing through them to witness favourite exhibitions was
immense. Justus Lipsius asserts, that the Coliseum was capable of accommodating
87,000 spectators on benches; and Fontana added 22,000
for the galleries, stair-cases, and passages. On the ground plan, the exterior 18(5)v 214
surface of the ellipsis covered a superficies of 246,661 feet, (more
than five and a half acres,) and consisted of eighty arches, opening into a
spacious double corridor, from whence radiated eighty passages and staircases,
leading either to two inner corridors, to the arena, or to the galleries.
Note 18.— Line 594. “The spreading Velum’s gorgeous canopy.” At the summit of the Flavian amphitheatre was a sixth story, or rather
floor, appropriated to those who managed the Velum, which was an awning
of various colours, occasionally stretched to protect the audience from
rain, or the heat of the sun, and which, by means of cords and pullies,
could be extended or withdrawn at pleasure.
Note 19.— Line 601. “Fought the stern Gladiators.” The combats of Gladiators, were early exhibited at Rome, and the
people became so strongly attached to these entertainments, that the emperors
found it polite to indulge their barbarous taste. Julius Cæser,
during his ædileship, gratified the populace with combats between 320 pair
of gladiators; and Gordian, before the imperial purple was conferred upon
him, gave those shows twelve times in a year, in some of which 500
couple were engaged. Titus exhibited a show of gladiators, wild beasts,
and representations of sea-fights upon the Coliseum, which lasted 100
days, and Trajan continued an exhibition of the same nature during one
third of a year, in the course of which he brought out 10,000 gladiators.
The masters, by whom these miserable combatants were instructed in the
science of defence, forced them to swear that they would fight till death,
and if they displayed cowardice, they were made to expire by fire, sword,
or whips, unless the voice of the emperor, or the people, gave them life.
Note 20.— Line 613. “Which first upon its sacred banner boreThe name of Christ.” “The disciples were first called Christians at Antioch.”INTERNAL ERROR. Please report to wwp@neu.edu that regMe is unmatched.Acts xi.
26.
Ignatius was the second bishop of this church, and, according to
Eusebius, succeeded Euodius, near the close of the 0001 < x < 0100first century after the
death of Christ. He suffered martyrdom in the amphitheatre at Rome, 18(6)r 215
during the persecution of Trajan; and was venerated, even among his foes,
for his years and piety.
Note 21.— Line 615. “Full on thy right ear pour’dThe melody of Heaven.” Ignatius was the first who introduced antiphonal singing among the
churches of the East, which, according to Socrates, the ecclesiastical historian,
he first learnt from a vision, in which the glorified spirits of heaven
appeared, singing in alternate meaasures, hymns of praise to the Everlasting
Trinity.
Note 22.— Line 661. “Thy curb controul’dThe tossing Danube.” Trajan, in the year 0104104, constructed a bridge over the Danube, which
was long admired as a relic of antiquity. After his conquest of Assyria,
he descended the Tigris with his fleet, and had the honour of being both
the first and the last Roman general who navigated the Indian Ocean.
Note 23.— Line 670. “The arch of Titus, rich with victoriesO’er humbled Judah.” The arch of Titus is of the composite order, and represents upon its
frieze his conquest of Judea, a delineation of the river Jordan, with the
captives who attended his triumph, and the spoil and sacred utensils from
the desolated temple.
Note 24.— Line 709. “—who early wiseLearnt with a philosophic sway to quellThe passions’ mutiny.” Marcus Aurelius Antoninus, who erected the celebrated Antonine
column
, to the memory of Antoninus Pius, made such great and early
proficiency in his studies, that at the age of twelve years he assumed the
philosophical gown. With the gravity of a philosopher he blended no
severity, but continued virtuous without pride, and gave without melancholy.
Such was the enthusiasm of his gratitude to those who had aided 18(6)v 216
him in the pursuits of knowledge, that he kept their images of gold in his
domestic chapel, and offered garlands of flowers at their tombs.
Note 25.— Line 728. “—the blest christian Emperor Constantine.” The splendid reign of Constantine, when the Church past from a state
of suffering to one of comparative power, when she was appointed to
“arise from the dust, and put on her beautiful garments,” is well known
to every reader of ecclesiastical history. Among the triumphs of Christianity
which shed lustre on the annals of this prosperous prince, may be
numbered the prohibition of the barbarous spectacles of gladiators, which
was decreed by him in the East, on the 0325-10-01first of October 325, and by
Theodoric in the West, about the year 0500500.
Note 26.— Line 763. “—like the brand
Of mighty Scanderberg.”
The interesting scene of modern Greece contending with her oppressors,
for her ancient birthright, and her long-trampled liberty, leads the mind
back to the noble exploits of Scanderberg the Great, Prince of Albania.
He was sent, when young, as a hostage to Amurath II. by his father,
who held his territory in subjection to the Turkish government. Here
he received the best education consistent with the Mahometan system,
and so early distinguished himself for courage and military ability, that
he received the command of a body of troops, at the age of eighteen.
The death of his father in 14321432, filled him with an unconquerable desire
to redeem his native principality from Turkish thraldom. Attending the
Mahometan army into Hungary, he entered into an alliance with the celebrated
Huniades, king of that country, and soon after began to contend
for the liberties of Albania. After many years of warfare with Mahomet
II.
the successor of Amurath, he established his dominion, and compelled
his foes to propose conditions of peace. His invincible courage was acknowledged
throughout Europe; and in him the spirit of the ancient
heroes and conquerors of Greece seems to have been revived. He died at the
age of 63, and from that period Albania has been the subject of Turkish
oppression. Even foes were constrained to pay homage to the valour and
greatness of Scanderberg, and when they besieged Lissa, the place of his 19(1)r 217
sepulchre, they disinterred his bones, and had them set in silver, viewing
them as precious relics and powerful amulets.
Note 27.— Line 804. “Alba-Regalis and Olumpagh fellShaming the Moslem.” “During the sieges of Olumpagh, and Alba-Regalis, young Smith was
the projector of stratagems, and the conductor of certain modes of attack,
which manifested an unusual talent for the art of war, and rendered the
most essential services to the Christain cause. The command of a horse,
and the rank of first major, were conferred on him, as an acknowledgement
of his high desert.”
Biography of Capt. Smith.
Note 28.— Line 886. “—while honours and rewardsWhelm him in rich profusion.” Smith, at his return from this eventful tournament, was attended by
6000 men at arms to the pavilion of the general, where he received the
most flattering reception, and was presented with a noble war-horse, richly
caparisoned, and a scimitar and belt of great value. The Duke of Transylvania
gave him his own miniature set in gold, accompanied with the
kindest expressions of regard, and issued letters patent of nobility, giving
him for his arms three Turks’ heads, emblazoned on a shield. These
were afterwards recorded in the herald’s office in England, and became
the permanent arms of Smith and his descendants.
Note 29.— Line 893. “From heaps of slainIn dark disastrous hour the youth is drawnHalf lifeless.” This was at the unfortunate engagement of Rottenton, in 16021602, when
the carnage of the Christian army was very extensive. Smith was left
on the field among the dead, but the pillagers perceiving that he still
breathed, and supposing from the elegance of his armour, that his ransom
would be ample, took great pains to restore his life. After this was
effected, and no one sought his redemption, he was sold at auction with
other prisoners, and purchased by a bashaw, as a present to his mistress,
a lady of distinguished beauty.
19 19(1)v 218 Note 30.— Line 928. “Driven from the beauteous shades.” The partiality of Charitza exciting the jealousy of her mother, Smith
was sent into Tartary, to her brother, the timor-bashaw of Nalbrits, on
the Palus Mœotis.
Note 31.— Line 938. “When the tyrant’s wrathHeap’d insolence with outrage, his bold handAveng’d it in his blood.” Smith, exasperated by the personal brutalities of his master, struck
him dead with a threshing bat, in his barn, about a league from his mansion.
Burying the body beneath the straw, he arrayed himself in the
clothes of the dead bashaw, mounted his horse, and with only a knapsack
of corn for his subsistence, fled for three days with the utmost precipitation
through the deserts of Circassia. Accidentally finding the main road to
Muscovy, he travelled upon it 16 days, under the greatest pressure of
hunger and fatigue, until he reached a garrison on the Russian frontier,
where he found a safe refuge and a cordial welcome.
Note 32.— Line 949. “—he survey’dEurope’s exhaustless stores.” After taking a range through various countries of Asia and Europe,
he met at Leipsic his faithful patron, the Duke of Transylvania, who
presented him with 1500 ducats to repair his decaying finances, and furnished
him with letters of recommendation, setting forth his military services.
He then took an extensive circuit through Germany, France and
Spain. He passed also into Africa, and was allured, says his biographer,
“by the rumours of war, and the native affinity of his mind for dangers,
to spend some time at the court of Morocco.”
This must have been at
the period of those competitions for the sovereignty which succeeded the
death of Muley Achmet in 16031603, and which were finally decided by the
succession of his youngest son, Muley Sidon, who reigned until the year
16301630.
19(2)r 219 Note 33.— Line 961. “Fring’d with the rose-bay on its graceful stem.” The Nereum Oleander, a beautiful tree, delighting in moist situations,
adorns the margin of the Mulluvia, a considerable river, which rises in
Mount Atlas, and pursues its course to the Mediterranean, partly dividing
Algiers from Morocco.
Note 34.— Line 971. “—’neath the simple shadeOf his umbrella, holds his Meshooar.” In the empire of Morocco, there is no code of laws, but the will of a
despotic monarch disposes of wealth, liberty, opinion, or existence, without
appeal. Wherever he happens to be, he grants public audience four
times a week, for the distribution of justice, sitting on horseback, while a
groom holds an umbrella over his head. This the Moors call holding
the Meshooar; though there is also a place in the city of Morocco
distinctively styled “the Meshooar,” because devoted to these audiences.
It is surrounded by walls, and situated between the old palace and the
magnificent pavilions erected by Sidi Mahomet.
Note 35.— Line 988. “Yet still the deep foundations of the mainEchod those battle thunders.” Smith returned to his native country by the way of France, and in his
passage across the channel in a French galley, was in a desperate conflict
with two Spanish ships of war, which continued nearly three days, and
terminated in the discomfiture of the Spaniards.
Note 36.— Line 994. “A hardy pioneer to this New World,