Classic Poem

A STORY OF THE INDIAN WAR .

They read of rapine, war, and wo,
A party by an English fire, —
Of Indian warfare in the wood,
Of stern and ruthless ire.

They read of torture worse than death —
Of treachery dark — of natures base —
Of women savage as the beast —
Of the red Indian race.

" Hold! " said the matron of the hearth,
A woman beautiful in age;
" And let me of the Indian speak;
Close, close that faithless page!

" My father was the youngest born
In an old rural English hall;
The youngest out of five stout sons,
With patrimony small.

" His boyhood was in greenwood spent:
His youth was all a sylvan dream;
He tracked the game upon the hills;
He angled in the stream.

" Quiet was he, and well content,
With naught to fret, and none to chide:
For all that his young heart desired
The woods and streams supplied.

" Small knowledge had a youth so trained,
College or school ne'er knew his face;
And yet as he grew up, he grew
Superior to his race.

" His brethren were of sordid sort,
Men with coarse minds, and without range
He grew adventurous and bold,
Inquisitive of change.

" And, as he grew, he took to books,
And read whate'er the hall supplied;
Histories of admirals, voyages old,
And travels far and wide.

" He read of settlers, who went forth
To the far west, and pitched their tent
Within the woods, and grew, ere long,
To a great prosperous settlement.

" He read of the bold lives they led,
Full of adventure, hardy, free;
Of the wild creatures they pursued,
Of game in every tree.

" And how the Indians, quaintly gay,
Came down in wampum-belt and feather
To welcome them with courteous grace
How they and the free forest race
Hunted and dwelt together.

" And how they and their chosen mates
Led lives so sweet and primitive:
Oh! in such land, with one dear heart,
What joy it were to live!

" So thought he, and such life it were
As suited well his turn of mind;
For what within his father's house
Was there to lure or bind?

" Four needy brothers, coarse and dull;
A patrimony, quite outspent;
A mother, long since in her grave;
A father, weak and indolent!

" At twenty he had ta'en a mate,
A creature gentle, kind and fair;
Poor, like himself, but well content
The forest-life to share.

" She left an old white-headed sire;
A mother loving, thoughtful, good;
She left a home of love, to live
For him, within the wood.

" And that old couple did provide,
Out of their need, for many a want
Else unforseen; their daughter's dower
In gifts of love, not scant.

" His father with cold scorn received
So dowered a daughter, without name:
Nor could his purposed exile win
Either assent or blame.

" All was a chill of indifference;
And from his father's gate he went,
As from a place where none for him
Had kindred sentiment.

" And in the western world they dwelt;
Life, like a joyous summer morn,
Each hope fulfilled; and in the wild
To them were children born.

" All that his youth had dreamed he found
In that life's freshness: peril strange;
Adventure; freedom; sylvan wealth;
And ceaseless, blameless change.

" And there he, and his heart's true mate,
Essayed and found how sweet to live,
'Mid nature's store, with health and love,
That life so primitive!

" But that sweet life came to an end. —
As falls the golden-eared corn
Before the sickle, earthly bliss
In human hearts is shorn.

" Sickness — bereavement — widowhood —
Oh, these three awful words embrace
A weight of mortal wo that fell
Upon our sylvan dwelling-place!

" It matters not to tell of pangs,
Of the heart broken, the bereft;
I will pass over death and tears,
I will pass on to other years,
When only two were left!

" I and a sister; long had passed
The anguish of that time, and we
Were living in a home of love,
Though in a stranger's family.

Still in the wilderness we dwelt,
And were grown up towards womanhood;
When our sweet life of peace was stirred
By tales of civil feud.

" By rumors of approaching war,
Of battle done, of armed bands;
Of horrid deeds of blood and fire,
Achieved by Indian hands.

" We heard it first with disbelief:
And long time after, when had spread
Wild war throughout the land, we dwelt
All unassailed by dread.

" For they with whom our lot was cast,
Were people of that Christian creed
Who will not fight, but trust in God
For help in time of need.

" The forest round was like a camp,
And men were armed day and night;
And every morning brought fresh news
To heighten their affright.

" Though the green forest rose the smoke
Of places burned the night before;
And from their victims, the red scalp
The excited Indian tore.

" This was around us, yet we dwelt
In peace upon the forest bound;
Without defence, without annoy,
The Indian camped all round.

" The door was never barred by night,
The door was never closed by day;
And there the Indians came and went,
As they had done alway.

" For " these of Onas are the sons,"
Said they, " the upright peaceful men!"
Nor was harm done to those who held
The faith of William Penn.

" But I this while thought less of peace,
Than of the camp and battle stir;
For I had given my young heart's love
Unto a British officer.

" Near us, within the forest-fort,
He lay, leader of a band
Of fierce young spirits, sworn to sweep
The Indian from the land —

" The native Indian from his woods —
I deemed it cowardly and base:
And, with a righteous zeal I pled
For the free forest-race.

" But he, to whom I pled, preferred
Sweet pleading of another sort;
And we met ever 'neath the wood
Outside the forest-fort.

" The Indian passed us in the wood,
Or glared upon us from the brake;
But he, disguised, with me was safe,
For Father Onas' sake.

" At length the crisis of the war
Approached, and he, my soul's beloved,
With his hot band, impatient grown,
Yet further west removed.

" There he was taken by the foe.
Ambushed like tigers 'mid the trees:
You know what death severe and dread
The Indian to his foe decrees.

" A death of torture and of fire —
Protracted death; I knew too well,
Outraged and angered, as of late
Had been the Indian spirit, fell
Would be their vengeance, and, to him,
Their hate implacable.

" When first to me his fate was told,
I stood amazed, confounded, dumb;
Then wildly wept and wrung my hands,
By anguish overcome.

" " Wait, wait!" the peaceful people said;
" Be still and wait, the Lord is good!"
But when they bade me trust and wait,
I went forth in my anguish great.
To hide me in the wood.

" I had no fear; the Indian race
To me were as my early kin:
And then the thought came to my brain,
To go forth, and from death and pain
My best beloved to win.

" With me my fair young sister went,
Long journeying on through wood and swamp:
Three long days' travel, ere we came
To the great Indian camp.

" We saw the Indians as we went,
Hid 'mong the grass with tiger ken;
But we were safe, they would not harm
The daughters of the peaceful men.

" In thickets of the woods at length
We came to a savannah green;
And there, beneath the open day,
The Indian camp was seen.

" I turned me from that scene of war,
And from the solemn council-talk,
Where stood the warriors, stern and cold,
War-crested, and with bearing bold,
Listening unto a sachem old,
Who held aloft a tomahawk.

" I knew they were athirst for blood;
That they had pity none to spare; —
Besides, bound to a tree, I saw
An English captive there.

" I saw his war-plume, soiled and torn;
I knew that he was doomed to die;
Pale, wounded, feeble, there he stood;
The ground was crimsoned with his blood,
Yet stood he as a soldier should —
Erect, with calm, determined eye.

" I would not he should see me then, —
The sight his courage had betrayed;
Therefore unseen we stepped aside,
Into the forest-glade.

" An Indian woman there was set,
We knew her, and to her were known;
The wife of a great chief was she,
Decked in her Indian bravery;
Yet there she sat alone.

" " Woman," I said, the silence breaking,
" Thou know'st us — know'st that we belong
To peaceful people, who have ne'er
Done to thy nation wrong.

" " Thou know'st that ye have dwelt with us,
As friend upon the hearth of friend; —
When have ye asked and been denied,
That this good faith should end?"

" The Indian did not raise her head,
As she replied in accents low,
" Why come ye hither unto me,
When I am sitting in my wo?"

" " Woman," I said, " I ask for life —
For life, which in your hands doth lie;
Go bid thy tribe release the bands
Of him now doomed to die!

" " Go, Indian woman, and do this,
For thou art mighty with thy race!"
The Indian made me no reply,
But looked into my face.

" " Mighty! said'st thou?" at length she spoke,
" Mighty! — to one no longer wife!
The hatchet and the tomahawk
Lie by me on the forest-walk;
The great chief in my hut lies low,
The ruthless pale-face struck the blow —
And yet thou com'st to me for life!"

" " By that chief's memory," I cried,
" Whom ne'er the peaceful men gainsaid;
To whom the peaceful men were dear;
Rise, though thou stricken be, and aid!

" " Crave not REVENGE ," and with my words
My tears flowed fast, though hers were dry;
" But look upon this pictured face,
And say if such a one shall die!"

" Long looked she on the pictured face
Which from my neck I took and gave;
Long looked she ere a word was spoke,
And then she slowly silence broke,
" The hatchet is not buried yet;
The tomahawk with blood is wet;
And the great chief is in his grave!

" " Yet for the father Onas' sake —
For their sakes who no blood have shed,
We will not by his sons be blamed
For taking life which they have claimed —
The red man can avenge his dead!"

" So saying, with her broken heart —
She went forth to the council-stone;
And when the captive was brought out,
'Mid savage war-cry, taunt, and shout,
The stepped into the fierce array,
As the bereaved Indian may,
And claimed the victim for her own.

" He was restored. What need of more
To tell the joy that thence ensued!
But sickness followed long and sore,
And he for a twelvemonth or more,
With our good, peaceful friends abode.

" But we, two plighted hearts, were wed;
A merry marriage ye may wis; —
And guess ye me a happy life —
In England here, an honored wife, —
Sweet friends, ye have not guessed amiss!

" But never more let it be said,
The red man is of nature base;
Nor let the crimes that have been taught,
Be by the crafty teachers brought
As blame against the Indian race! "