LIX.A fickle race the red man’s kindred were,Free as the elk that roved their native wood,Here did they dwell to-day, to-morrow there,As want or pleasure ruled the changeful mood;And Waban loved adventures bold and rare,Nor heard with sorrow of a new abode;And forth he goes to seek his long canoe,And trim her breast to skim the waters blue.
LIX.
A fickle race the red man’s kindred were,Free as the elk that roved their native wood,Here did they dwell to-day, to-morrow there,As want or pleasure ruled the changeful mood;And Waban loved adventures bold and rare,Nor heard with sorrow of a new abode;And forth he goes to seek his long canoe,And trim her breast to skim the waters blue.
A fickle race the red man’s kindred were,Free as the elk that roved their native wood,Here did they dwell to-day, to-morrow there,As want or pleasure ruled the changeful mood;And Waban loved adventures bold and rare,Nor heard with sorrow of a new abode;And forth he goes to seek his long canoe,And trim her breast to skim the waters blue.
A fickle race the red man’s kindred were,Free as the elk that roved their native wood,Here did they dwell to-day, to-morrow there,As want or pleasure ruled the changeful mood;And Waban loved adventures bold and rare,Nor heard with sorrow of a new abode;And forth he goes to seek his long canoe,And trim her breast to skim the waters blue.
A fickle race the red man’s kindred were,
Free as the elk that roved their native wood,
Here did they dwell to-day, to-morrow there,
As want or pleasure ruled the changeful mood;
And Waban loved adventures bold and rare,
Nor heard with sorrow of a new abode;
And forth he goes to seek his long canoe,
And trim her breast to skim the waters blue.
LX.The while the infant group, from noon to night,Passed here and there through all that cultured glade;And sighed and wept, by turns, or sobbed outright,As to its charms their last farewell they bade;“Here father labored—here he slept till lightRenewed his toils,” they often thought or said;And still the springing tears suffuse their eyes,They dash them off—but still their sorrows rise.
LX.
The while the infant group, from noon to night,Passed here and there through all that cultured glade;And sighed and wept, by turns, or sobbed outright,As to its charms their last farewell they bade;“Here father labored—here he slept till lightRenewed his toils,” they often thought or said;And still the springing tears suffuse their eyes,They dash them off—but still their sorrows rise.
The while the infant group, from noon to night,Passed here and there through all that cultured glade;And sighed and wept, by turns, or sobbed outright,As to its charms their last farewell they bade;“Here father labored—here he slept till lightRenewed his toils,” they often thought or said;And still the springing tears suffuse their eyes,They dash them off—but still their sorrows rise.
The while the infant group, from noon to night,Passed here and there through all that cultured glade;And sighed and wept, by turns, or sobbed outright,As to its charms their last farewell they bade;“Here father labored—here he slept till lightRenewed his toils,” they often thought or said;And still the springing tears suffuse their eyes,They dash them off—but still their sorrows rise.
The while the infant group, from noon to night,
Passed here and there through all that cultured glade;
And sighed and wept, by turns, or sobbed outright,
As to its charms their last farewell they bade;
“Here father labored—here he slept till light
Renewed his toils,” they often thought or said;
And still the springing tears suffuse their eyes,
They dash them off—but still their sorrows rise.
LXI.They plucked the blossoms from the blushing bush,They quaffed the waters from the purling rill,Their bread they scattered to the gentle thrush,That seemed half-conscious of the coming ill;The rabbit eyed them from his covert brush,Their crumbs supplied the little sparrow’s bill;And sadly then they sighed their last adieu,“Our little friends, farewell! we sport no more with you.”
LXI.
They plucked the blossoms from the blushing bush,They quaffed the waters from the purling rill,Their bread they scattered to the gentle thrush,That seemed half-conscious of the coming ill;The rabbit eyed them from his covert brush,Their crumbs supplied the little sparrow’s bill;And sadly then they sighed their last adieu,“Our little friends, farewell! we sport no more with you.”
They plucked the blossoms from the blushing bush,They quaffed the waters from the purling rill,Their bread they scattered to the gentle thrush,That seemed half-conscious of the coming ill;The rabbit eyed them from his covert brush,Their crumbs supplied the little sparrow’s bill;And sadly then they sighed their last adieu,“Our little friends, farewell! we sport no more with you.”
They plucked the blossoms from the blushing bush,They quaffed the waters from the purling rill,Their bread they scattered to the gentle thrush,That seemed half-conscious of the coming ill;The rabbit eyed them from his covert brush,Their crumbs supplied the little sparrow’s bill;And sadly then they sighed their last adieu,“Our little friends, farewell! we sport no more with you.”
They plucked the blossoms from the blushing bush,
They quaffed the waters from the purling rill,
Their bread they scattered to the gentle thrush,
That seemed half-conscious of the coming ill;
The rabbit eyed them from his covert brush,
Their crumbs supplied the little sparrow’s bill;
And sadly then they sighed their last adieu,
“Our little friends, farewell! we sport no more with you.”
LXII.Meantime the parents in the cottage sate,Their bosoms heaving and their thoughts in gloom.“O! what,” cried Mary, “is our coming fate?And where, my husband, is our future home?Will not dire famine on our footsteps wait,And perils meet us whereso’er we roam?Our harvest gone, who now can food supply?Forced from this roof, where shall our children lie?”
LXII.
Meantime the parents in the cottage sate,Their bosoms heaving and their thoughts in gloom.“O! what,” cried Mary, “is our coming fate?And where, my husband, is our future home?Will not dire famine on our footsteps wait,And perils meet us whereso’er we roam?Our harvest gone, who now can food supply?Forced from this roof, where shall our children lie?”
Meantime the parents in the cottage sate,Their bosoms heaving and their thoughts in gloom.“O! what,” cried Mary, “is our coming fate?And where, my husband, is our future home?Will not dire famine on our footsteps wait,And perils meet us whereso’er we roam?Our harvest gone, who now can food supply?Forced from this roof, where shall our children lie?”
Meantime the parents in the cottage sate,Their bosoms heaving and their thoughts in gloom.“O! what,” cried Mary, “is our coming fate?And where, my husband, is our future home?Will not dire famine on our footsteps wait,And perils meet us whereso’er we roam?Our harvest gone, who now can food supply?Forced from this roof, where shall our children lie?”
Meantime the parents in the cottage sate,
Their bosoms heaving and their thoughts in gloom.
“O! what,” cried Mary, “is our coming fate?
And where, my husband, is our future home?
Will not dire famine on our footsteps wait,
And perils meet us whereso’er we roam?
Our harvest gone, who now can food supply?
Forced from this roof, where shall our children lie?”
LXIII.“Trust we in God!” our pious Founder said;“Doubt not the bounty of His providence,Who Israel’s children through the desert led,And in all perils was there sure defence;He did not bid us this far forest tread,To leave us here in want and impotence.Warnings, my Mary, were most strangely given,Such as I sometimes deem were sent from Heaven!
LXIII.
“Trust we in God!” our pious Founder said;“Doubt not the bounty of His providence,Who Israel’s children through the desert led,And in all perils was there sure defence;He did not bid us this far forest tread,To leave us here in want and impotence.Warnings, my Mary, were most strangely given,Such as I sometimes deem were sent from Heaven!
“Trust we in God!” our pious Founder said;“Doubt not the bounty of His providence,Who Israel’s children through the desert led,And in all perils was there sure defence;He did not bid us this far forest tread,To leave us here in want and impotence.Warnings, my Mary, were most strangely given,Such as I sometimes deem were sent from Heaven!
“Trust we in God!” our pious Founder said;“Doubt not the bounty of His providence,Who Israel’s children through the desert led,And in all perils was there sure defence;He did not bid us this far forest tread,To leave us here in want and impotence.Warnings, my Mary, were most strangely given,Such as I sometimes deem were sent from Heaven!
“Trust we in God!” our pious Founder said;
“Doubt not the bounty of His providence,
Who Israel’s children through the desert led,
And in all perils was there sure defence;
He did not bid us this far forest tread,
To leave us here in want and impotence.
Warnings, my Mary, were most strangely given,
Such as I sometimes deem were sent from Heaven!
LXIV.“Well can thy mind that stormy night recall,The last in Salem that I dared abide,—In fleecy torrents did the tempest fall,Our little dwelling reeled from side to side;The fading brands just glimmered on the wall,Alone I sate, my heart with anguish tried,When lo! a summons at the door I heard,Deemed it a wretch distressed, the pass unbarred.
LXIV.
“Well can thy mind that stormy night recall,The last in Salem that I dared abide,—In fleecy torrents did the tempest fall,Our little dwelling reeled from side to side;The fading brands just glimmered on the wall,Alone I sate, my heart with anguish tried,When lo! a summons at the door I heard,Deemed it a wretch distressed, the pass unbarred.
“Well can thy mind that stormy night recall,The last in Salem that I dared abide,—In fleecy torrents did the tempest fall,Our little dwelling reeled from side to side;The fading brands just glimmered on the wall,Alone I sate, my heart with anguish tried,When lo! a summons at the door I heard,Deemed it a wretch distressed, the pass unbarred.
“Well can thy mind that stormy night recall,The last in Salem that I dared abide,—In fleecy torrents did the tempest fall,Our little dwelling reeled from side to side;The fading brands just glimmered on the wall,Alone I sate, my heart with anguish tried,When lo! a summons at the door I heard,Deemed it a wretch distressed, the pass unbarred.
“Well can thy mind that stormy night recall,
The last in Salem that I dared abide,—
In fleecy torrents did the tempest fall,
Our little dwelling reeled from side to side;
The fading brands just glimmered on the wall,
Alone I sate, my heart with anguish tried,
When lo! a summons at the door I heard,
Deemed it a wretch distressed, the pass unbarred.
LXV.“And straight appeared a venerable seer,Such as on earth none ever saw before;His temples spake at least their hundredth year,In many a long and deeply furrowed score;But, Oh! his eyes, in youthful glory clear,Did from them a celestial radiance pour;And then that face scarce seemed to veil the rays,(Too bright for mortal!) of an angel’s blaze.
LXV.
“And straight appeared a venerable seer,Such as on earth none ever saw before;His temples spake at least their hundredth year,In many a long and deeply furrowed score;But, Oh! his eyes, in youthful glory clear,Did from them a celestial radiance pour;And then that face scarce seemed to veil the rays,(Too bright for mortal!) of an angel’s blaze.
“And straight appeared a venerable seer,Such as on earth none ever saw before;His temples spake at least their hundredth year,In many a long and deeply furrowed score;But, Oh! his eyes, in youthful glory clear,Did from them a celestial radiance pour;And then that face scarce seemed to veil the rays,(Too bright for mortal!) of an angel’s blaze.
“And straight appeared a venerable seer,Such as on earth none ever saw before;His temples spake at least their hundredth year,In many a long and deeply furrowed score;But, Oh! his eyes, in youthful glory clear,Did from them a celestial radiance pour;And then that face scarce seemed to veil the rays,(Too bright for mortal!) of an angel’s blaze.
“And straight appeared a venerable seer,
Such as on earth none ever saw before;
His temples spake at least their hundredth year,
In many a long and deeply furrowed score;
But, Oh! his eyes, in youthful glory clear,
Did from them a celestial radiance pour;
And then that face scarce seemed to veil the rays,
(Too bright for mortal!) of an angel’s blaze.
LXVI.“And when he spake, methought the music clearOf tongue seraphic, filled his heavenly tone;It came so full, yet gently, on my ear,It well might serenade the Almighty’s throne;‘Williams,’ it said, ‘I come on message hereOf mighty moment, to this age unknown;Thou must not dally, or the tempest fear,But fly by morn into the forest drear.
LXVI.
“And when he spake, methought the music clearOf tongue seraphic, filled his heavenly tone;It came so full, yet gently, on my ear,It well might serenade the Almighty’s throne;‘Williams,’ it said, ‘I come on message hereOf mighty moment, to this age unknown;Thou must not dally, or the tempest fear,But fly by morn into the forest drear.
“And when he spake, methought the music clearOf tongue seraphic, filled his heavenly tone;It came so full, yet gently, on my ear,It well might serenade the Almighty’s throne;‘Williams,’ it said, ‘I come on message hereOf mighty moment, to this age unknown;Thou must not dally, or the tempest fear,But fly by morn into the forest drear.
“And when he spake, methought the music clearOf tongue seraphic, filled his heavenly tone;It came so full, yet gently, on my ear,It well might serenade the Almighty’s throne;‘Williams,’ it said, ‘I come on message hereOf mighty moment, to this age unknown;Thou must not dally, or the tempest fear,But fly by morn into the forest drear.
“And when he spake, methought the music clear
Of tongue seraphic, filled his heavenly tone;
It came so full, yet gently, on my ear,
It well might serenade the Almighty’s throne;
‘Williams,’ it said, ‘I come on message here
Of mighty moment, to this age unknown;
Thou must not dally, or the tempest fear,
But fly by morn into the forest drear.
LXVII.“‘Thou art to voyage an unexploréd flood,No chart is there thy lonely bark to steer;Beneath her rocks, around her tempests rude,And persecution’s billows in her rear,Shall shake thy soul till it is near subdued;But when the welcome ofWhatcheer! Whatcheer!Shall greet thine ears from Indian multitude,Cast thou the Anchor there, and trust in God.’
LXVII.
“‘Thou art to voyage an unexploréd flood,No chart is there thy lonely bark to steer;Beneath her rocks, around her tempests rude,And persecution’s billows in her rear,Shall shake thy soul till it is near subdued;But when the welcome ofWhatcheer! Whatcheer!Shall greet thine ears from Indian multitude,Cast thou the Anchor there, and trust in God.’
“‘Thou art to voyage an unexploréd flood,No chart is there thy lonely bark to steer;Beneath her rocks, around her tempests rude,And persecution’s billows in her rear,Shall shake thy soul till it is near subdued;But when the welcome ofWhatcheer! Whatcheer!Shall greet thine ears from Indian multitude,Cast thou the Anchor there, and trust in God.’
“‘Thou art to voyage an unexploréd flood,No chart is there thy lonely bark to steer;Beneath her rocks, around her tempests rude,And persecution’s billows in her rear,Shall shake thy soul till it is near subdued;But when the welcome ofWhatcheer! Whatcheer!Shall greet thine ears from Indian multitude,Cast thou the Anchor there, and trust in God.’
“‘Thou art to voyage an unexploréd flood,
No chart is there thy lonely bark to steer;
Beneath her rocks, around her tempests rude,
And persecution’s billows in her rear,
Shall shake thy soul till it is near subdued;
But when the welcome ofWhatcheer! Whatcheer!
Shall greet thine ears from Indian multitude,
Cast thou the Anchor there, and trust in God.’
LXVIII.“He went away, and I could not detainHim from departing in the stormy night;He would but promise to be seen againWhere faith in freedom should my rest invite.I’ve often dwelt on that prophetic strain,Recalled that voice,—and rightly can reciteThe words it uttered.—Oh that I had moreTheir import weighed, and shunned this tyrant shore!
LXVIII.
“He went away, and I could not detainHim from departing in the stormy night;He would but promise to be seen againWhere faith in freedom should my rest invite.I’ve often dwelt on that prophetic strain,Recalled that voice,—and rightly can reciteThe words it uttered.—Oh that I had moreTheir import weighed, and shunned this tyrant shore!
“He went away, and I could not detainHim from departing in the stormy night;He would but promise to be seen againWhere faith in freedom should my rest invite.I’ve often dwelt on that prophetic strain,Recalled that voice,—and rightly can reciteThe words it uttered.—Oh that I had moreTheir import weighed, and shunned this tyrant shore!
“He went away, and I could not detainHim from departing in the stormy night;He would but promise to be seen againWhere faith in freedom should my rest invite.I’ve often dwelt on that prophetic strain,Recalled that voice,—and rightly can reciteThe words it uttered.—Oh that I had moreTheir import weighed, and shunned this tyrant shore!
“He went away, and I could not detain
Him from departing in the stormy night;
He would but promise to be seen again
Where faith in freedom should my rest invite.
I’ve often dwelt on that prophetic strain,
Recalled that voice,—and rightly can recite
The words it uttered.—Oh that I had more
Their import weighed, and shunned this tyrant shore!
LXIX.“For, Mary, deem it not a sinful thought,That Heaven should give her counsels to restoreThe soul to freedom.—Lo! what wonders wroughtThe God of Christians for the Church of yore;With heathen darkness was the conscience fraught,And tyrants chained it to a barbarous lore;To break like thraldom in a Christian land,Angels may speak, and God disclose his hand.
LXIX.
“For, Mary, deem it not a sinful thought,That Heaven should give her counsels to restoreThe soul to freedom.—Lo! what wonders wroughtThe God of Christians for the Church of yore;With heathen darkness was the conscience fraught,And tyrants chained it to a barbarous lore;To break like thraldom in a Christian land,Angels may speak, and God disclose his hand.
“For, Mary, deem it not a sinful thought,That Heaven should give her counsels to restoreThe soul to freedom.—Lo! what wonders wroughtThe God of Christians for the Church of yore;With heathen darkness was the conscience fraught,And tyrants chained it to a barbarous lore;To break like thraldom in a Christian land,Angels may speak, and God disclose his hand.
“For, Mary, deem it not a sinful thought,That Heaven should give her counsels to restoreThe soul to freedom.—Lo! what wonders wroughtThe God of Christians for the Church of yore;With heathen darkness was the conscience fraught,And tyrants chained it to a barbarous lore;To break like thraldom in a Christian land,Angels may speak, and God disclose his hand.
“For, Mary, deem it not a sinful thought,
That Heaven should give her counsels to restore
The soul to freedom.—Lo! what wonders wrought
The God of Christians for the Church of yore;
With heathen darkness was the conscience fraught,
And tyrants chained it to a barbarous lore;
To break like thraldom in a Christian land,
Angels may speak, and God disclose his hand.
LXX.“This spot I rashly chose. No Indian trainGlad welcome gave to my enraptured ear,And that mysterious form comes not again,Inspiring courage; therefore hence we steer,Nor land nor dwelling let us think to gainUntil the greeting of Whatcheer! Whatcheer!Our journey stays,—there, there is our abode;Our anchor there, our Hope, Almighty God!”
LXX.
“This spot I rashly chose. No Indian trainGlad welcome gave to my enraptured ear,And that mysterious form comes not again,Inspiring courage; therefore hence we steer,Nor land nor dwelling let us think to gainUntil the greeting of Whatcheer! Whatcheer!Our journey stays,—there, there is our abode;Our anchor there, our Hope, Almighty God!”
“This spot I rashly chose. No Indian trainGlad welcome gave to my enraptured ear,And that mysterious form comes not again,Inspiring courage; therefore hence we steer,Nor land nor dwelling let us think to gainUntil the greeting of Whatcheer! Whatcheer!Our journey stays,—there, there is our abode;Our anchor there, our Hope, Almighty God!”
“This spot I rashly chose. No Indian trainGlad welcome gave to my enraptured ear,And that mysterious form comes not again,Inspiring courage; therefore hence we steer,Nor land nor dwelling let us think to gainUntil the greeting of Whatcheer! Whatcheer!Our journey stays,—there, there is our abode;Our anchor there, our Hope, Almighty God!”
“This spot I rashly chose. No Indian train
Glad welcome gave to my enraptured ear,
And that mysterious form comes not again,
Inspiring courage; therefore hence we steer,
Nor land nor dwelling let us think to gain
Until the greeting of Whatcheer! Whatcheer!
Our journey stays,—there, there is our abode;
Our anchor there, our Hope, Almighty God!”
LXXI.Thus spoke our Sire, and now, with ready handAnd spirits lightened, Mary did prepareFor their departure to another land,—Alas! they knew not how and knew not where.At eventide, red Waban from the strand,The children from the glade, with cheerless airRevisited the cot.—One more sad night,And thence they journey at the rising light.
LXXI.
Thus spoke our Sire, and now, with ready handAnd spirits lightened, Mary did prepareFor their departure to another land,—Alas! they knew not how and knew not where.At eventide, red Waban from the strand,The children from the glade, with cheerless airRevisited the cot.—One more sad night,And thence they journey at the rising light.
Thus spoke our Sire, and now, with ready handAnd spirits lightened, Mary did prepareFor their departure to another land,—Alas! they knew not how and knew not where.At eventide, red Waban from the strand,The children from the glade, with cheerless airRevisited the cot.—One more sad night,And thence they journey at the rising light.
Thus spoke our Sire, and now, with ready handAnd spirits lightened, Mary did prepareFor their departure to another land,—Alas! they knew not how and knew not where.At eventide, red Waban from the strand,The children from the glade, with cheerless airRevisited the cot.—One more sad night,And thence they journey at the rising light.
Thus spoke our Sire, and now, with ready hand
And spirits lightened, Mary did prepare
For their departure to another land,—
Alas! they knew not how and knew not where.
At eventide, red Waban from the strand,
The children from the glade, with cheerless air
Revisited the cot.—One more sad night,
And thence they journey at the rising light.
LXXII.Upon the cottage roof the Whip-poor-willThat night sang mournful to the conscious glade;The lonely owl forsook her valley still,And perched and hooted in the neighboring shade;The wolf returned, and lapped the purling rill,Sate on its marge, and at the cottage bayed;From all its howling depths the desert came,And seemed its lost dominion to reclaim.
LXXII.
Upon the cottage roof the Whip-poor-willThat night sang mournful to the conscious glade;The lonely owl forsook her valley still,And perched and hooted in the neighboring shade;The wolf returned, and lapped the purling rill,Sate on its marge, and at the cottage bayed;From all its howling depths the desert came,And seemed its lost dominion to reclaim.
Upon the cottage roof the Whip-poor-willThat night sang mournful to the conscious glade;The lonely owl forsook her valley still,And perched and hooted in the neighboring shade;The wolf returned, and lapped the purling rill,Sate on its marge, and at the cottage bayed;From all its howling depths the desert came,And seemed its lost dominion to reclaim.
Upon the cottage roof the Whip-poor-willThat night sang mournful to the conscious glade;The lonely owl forsook her valley still,And perched and hooted in the neighboring shade;The wolf returned, and lapped the purling rill,Sate on its marge, and at the cottage bayed;From all its howling depths the desert came,And seemed its lost dominion to reclaim.
Upon the cottage roof the Whip-poor-will
That night sang mournful to the conscious glade;
The lonely owl forsook her valley still,
And perched and hooted in the neighboring shade;
The wolf returned, and lapped the purling rill,
Sate on its marge, and at the cottage bayed;
From all its howling depths the desert came,
And seemed its lost dominion to reclaim.