It bears to the warrior's nerveless arm
The might of a victor's aim-.
Its freight is a spell, whose mystic charm
Shall protect the tottering sire from harm,
And the ire-doomed babe, whose life-blood warm
Was to hiss in the wigwam's flame.
The eye of the king with that rapture blazed
Which the soul in its rapture sends ;
His prayer to the spirit of good he raised,
And the shades of his buried fathers praised
As toward his fort he wends.
That king hath gone to his lowly grave!
He slumbers in dark decay;
And like the crest of the tossing wave,
Like the rush of the blast, from the mountain cave,
Like the groan of the murdered, with none to save, His people have past away.
The monarch hath gone, but his rocky throne
Still rests on its frowning base;
Its motionless guards, rise in phalanx lone,
And nought save the winds through their helmets that
but those bosoms and hearts of stone,
Sigh over the fallen race.
XVIII. THE FALL OF NIAGARA.
[From the same.]
Labitur et labetur.
THE thoughts are strange that crowd into my brain,
While I look upward to thee. It would seem
As if God poured thee from his hollow hand;
Had hung his bow upon thy awful front;
Had spoke in that loud voice, which seemed to him
Who dwelt in Patmos, for his Saviour's sake,
The sound of many waters; and had bade
Thy flood to chronicle the ages back,
And notch his centuries in the eternal rocks.
Deep calleth unto deep. And what are we,
That hear the question of that voice sublime!
O! what are all the notes, that ever rung
From war's vain trumpet, by thy thundering side?
Yea, what is all the riot man can make
In his short life, to thy unceasing roar?
And yet, bold babbler! what art thou to Him,
Who drowned a world, and heaped the waters far
Above its loftiest mountains? a light wave
That breaks and whispers of its Maker's might.
XIX. POETICAL DESCRIPTIONS
OF TREES, BIRDS, BEASTS, AND FISHES
WRITTEN IN 1629.
[Old Colony Memorial. Plymouth.]
TREES, both in hills and plains, in plenty be
The long-lived Oak, and mournful Cyprus tree;
Sky-towering Pines, and Chesnuts coated rough,
The lasting Cedar, with the Walnut tough;
The rozin-dropping Fir, for masts in use,
The boatmen seek for oars, light, neat brown Spruce;
The brittle Ash, the ever trembling Asps,
The broad-spread Elm, whose concave harbours wasps ;
The water spongy Alder, good for nought,
Small Eldern, by the Indian fletchers sought;
The knotty Maple, pallid Birch, Hawthorns,
The Horn-bound tree that to be cloven scorns,
Which from the tender vine oft takes his spouse,
Who twines embracing arms about his boughs.
Within this Indian orchard fruits be some,
The ruddy Cherry, and the jetty Plum ;
Snake-murthering Hazel, with sweet Saxaphrage,
Whose spurns in beer, allay hot fever's rage;
The dear Shumach, with more trees there be
That are both good to use, and rare to see.
THE princely Eagle, and the soaring Hawk,
Whom in their unknown ways there's none can chalk;
The Humbird, for some queen's rich cage more fit,
Than in the vacant wilderness to sit;
The swift-winged Swallow, sweeping to and fro,
As swift as arrow from Tartarian bow;
When as Aurora's infant day new springs,
There the morn mountain Lark her sweet lays sings;
The harmonious Thrush, swift Pidgeon, turtle Dove,
Who to her mate does ever constant prove;
The Turkey-Pheasant, Heathcock, Partridge rare,
The carrion-tearing Crow, and hurtful Stare;
The long lived Raven, the ominous Screech Owl,
Who tells, as old wives say, disasters foul;
The drowsy Madge, that leaves her day-loved nest,
And loves to rove, when day-birds be at rest;
The eel-murdering Hearne, and greedy Cormorant,
That near the creeks in morish marshes haunt;
The bellowing Bitterne, with the long-legged Crane,
Presaging winters hard, and dearth of grain ;
The silver Swan, that tunes her mournful breath,
To sing the dirge of her approaching death;
The tattling Oldwives, and the cackling Geese,
The fearful Gull, that shuns the murthering piece;
The strong winged Maliard, with the nimble Teal,
And ill-shaped Loon, who his harsh notes doth squeal;
There Widgins, Sheldrakes, and Humilitees,
Snipes, Dippers, sea-Larks, in whole millions flee.
BEASTS.
THE kingly Lion, and the strong armed Bear,
The large limbed Mooses, with the tripping Deer';
Quill-darting Porcupines, and Racoons be
Castel'd in the hollow of an aged tree;
The skipping Squirrel, Rabbit, purblind Hare,
Immured in the self-same castels are,
Lest red-eyed Ferret, wiley Foxes should
Them undermine, if rampired but with mould;
The grim-faced Ounce, and ravenous howling Wolf,
Whose meagre paunch, sucks like a swallowing gulf;
Black glistering Otters, and rich coated Bever,
The Civet, sented Musquash smelling ever.
FISHES.
THE king of waters, the sea shouldering Whale,
The snuffing Grampus, with the oily Seal;
The storm-presaging Porpus, Herring-Hog,
Line shearing Shark, the Catfish, and Sea-Dog;
The scale-fenced Sturgeon, wry-mouthed Halibut,
The flouncing Salmon, Codfish, Greedigut,
Cole, Haddock, Hake, the Thornback, and the Scate,
Whose slimy outside makes him seld' in date;
The stately Bass, old Neptune's fleeting post,
That tides it out and in, from sea to coast;
Consorting Herrings, and the boney shad,
Big-bellied Ale wives, Mackerels richly clad
With rainbow colour, the Frostfish and the Smelt,
As good as ever lady Gustus felt;
The spotted Lamprons, Eels, the Lamperies,
That seek fresh water brooks with Argus eyes;
These watery villagers, with thousands more,
Do pass and repass near the verdant shore,
XX. CONNECTICUT. [Western Sun. Indiana.]
WHAT land is that so nicely bound,
By Massachusetts and the Sound,
Rhode Island and New-York around;
Where Yankees thick as hops are found;
And hasty-puddings do abound? Connecticut.
What land is that, when George the king
Did over the sea his fetters fling,
And think to link us in their ring,
Which gave the cry, "there's no such thing,"
Whose sons did Yankee Doodle sing?
What land is that, where folks are said
To be so scrupulously bred,
To be so steady habited;
Where hearty girls and boys are fed,
With pumpkin pies and gingerbread?
What land is that, where old time walks
In steady space o'er maple blocks;
Forsakes his glass for wooden clocks;
Where heads too high will meet with knocks;
And land were more, if fewer rocks?
What land is that, where onions grow;
Where maiden's necks are white as snow,
And cheeks like roses red, you know;
Where jonny-cakes are baked from dough,
That land where milk and honey flow?
What land is that, whence pedlars come
A thousand miles, or more, from home,
With tin, with bass-wood trenchers; some
With patent nutmegs and new rum;
To gather up the coppers!-hum!
What land is that, where parsons live;
Where men hear gospel and believe;
Where humble sinners seek reprieve;
Where women stay at home and weave,
Nor gad without their husband's leave?
What land is that, where I can trace,
My nineteenth cousin by his face;
Where once I fished for little dace,
And never learned the deuce from ace;
Where grand-mother this night says grace? Connecticut.
What land is that, when we behold,
And all its history unfold,
And all about the land is told,
We like most things, but some we scold?
Ah! gentle reader, that is old
FICTITIOUS, MORAL, AND SENTIMENTAL.
I. THE CAPTIVE BOY.
[Emporium. Trenton, N. J.]
"But who is he that yet a dearer land
Remembers over hills and far away?-CAMPBELL. ALL who are conversant with the early history of our country, will recollect that our frontier settlements were, many years ago, before the power of the aborigines was broken and subdued, frequently laid waste and desolate, by the incursions of the Indians, who, not content with pillaging and destroying whatever property lay in their way, marked their footsteps with blood, and made captives of all whom glutted vengeance, or caprice induced them to spare.
It happened in one of these incursions, that a young man by the name of Bird, with his wife and child, an infant boy of about six months old, was made a prisoner. The quantity of plunder in possession of the savages, making the assistance of the unfortunate father and mother important, their lives were spared, for the sole purpose of assisting in carrying it off; they were shown their burdens, and directed to follow. The mother, knowing the fate, which in these circumstances awaited her infant, should it be discovered, contrived to conceal it from her inhuman captors, and having wrapped it up in her burden, close to her breast, journeyed by the side of her husband, towards the wilderness,
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