XII. "And hast thou then forgot," (he cried forlorn, And eyed the group with half-indignant air,) "Oh! hast thou, Christian chief, forgot the morn When I with thee the cup of peace did share? Then stately was this head, and dark this hair, That now is white as Appalachia's snow; But, if the weight of fifteen years' despair, And age hath bow'd me, and the torturing foe, Bring me my boy- and he will his deliverer know!" XIII. It was not long, with eyes and heart of flame, "Bless thee, my guide!"- but backward, as he came, The chief his old bewildered head withdrew, And grasped his arm, and look'd and look'd him through. The long, the doubtful scrutiny to view: - At last delight o'er all his features stole, "It is my own," he cried, and clasp'd him to 'his soul. XIV. "Yes! thou recall'st my pride of years, for then The bowstring of my spirit was not slack, When, spite of woods, and floods, and ambush'd` men, I bore thee like the quiver on my back, Fleet as the whirlwind hurries on the rack; And dost not thou remember how we cheer'd, Upon the last hill-top, when white men's huts. appear'd? XV. "Then welcome be my death song, and my death, XVI. "But this is not a time," he started up, And smote his breast with wo-denouncing hand— *Cougar, the American tiger. "This is no time to fill the joyous cup; The Mammoth comes, the foe, Brant,* the Monster With all his howling desolating band; These eyes have seen their blade and burning pine Awake at once, and silence half your land. Red is the cup they drink; but not with wine : Awake, and watch to-night, or see no morning shine! XVII. "Scorning to wield the hatchet for his bribe, 'Gainst Brant himself I went to battle forth: Accursed Brant! he left of all my tribe Nor man, nor child, nor thing of living birth: No! not the dog, that watch'd my household hearth, Escaped that night of blood, upon our plains! All perish'd! I alone am left on earth! To whom nor relative nor blood remains, No!--not a kindred drop that runs in human veins! XVIII. "But go!—and rouse your warriors ;-for, if right These old bewilder'd eyes could guess, by signs * Brant was the leader of those Mohawks, and other savages, who laid waste this part of Pennsylvania. Vide the note at the end of this poem. Of striped and starred banners, on yon height Its squared rock, and palisaded lines. Go! seek the light its warlike beacons show; Whilst I in ambush wait, for vengeance and the foe!" Scarce had he utter'd treme XIX. when heaven's verge ex Reverberates the bomb's descending star, And sounds that mingled laugh, and shout, - and scream, To freeze the blood, in one discordant jar, Whoop after whoop with rack the ear assail'd! XX. Then look'd they to the hills, where fire o'erhung She faints, she falters not, th' heroic fair, As he the sword and plume in haste array'd. glade? Joy, joy! Columbia's friends are tramping through the shade! XXI. Then came of every race the mingled swarm, Far rung the groves and gleam'd the midnight grass, With flambeau, javelin, and naked arm; As warriors wheel'd their culverins of brass, XXII. And in, the buskin'd hunters of the deer, To Albert's home, with shout and cymbal throng: Roused by their warlike pomp, and mirth, and cheer, Old Outalissa woke his battle-song, And, beating with his war-club cadence strong, |