Classic Poem

What time the noble Lovewell came,
With fifty men from Dunstable,
The cruel Pequa'tt tribe to tame,
With arms and bloodshed terrible,

Then did the crimson streams, that flowed,
Seem like the waters of the brook,
That brightly shine, that loudly dash
Far down the cliffs of Agiochook.

With Lovewell brave, John Harwood came;
From wife and babes 't was hard to part,
Young Harwood took her by the hand,
And bound the weeper to his heart.

Repress that tear, my Mary, dear,
Said Harwood to his loving wife,
It tries me hard to leave thee here,
And seek in distant woods the strife.

When gone, my Mary, think of me,
And pray to God, that I may be,
Such as one ought that lives for thee,
And come at last in victory.

Thus left young Harwood babe and wife,
With accent wild she bade adieu;
It grieved those lovers much to part,
So fond and fair, so kind and true.

Seth Wyman, who in Woburn lived
(A marksman he of courage true),
Shot the first Indian whom they saw,
Sheer through his heart the bullet flew.

The savage had been seeking game,
Two guns and eke a knife he bore,
And two black ducks were in his hand,
He shrieked, and fell, to rise no more.

Anon, there eighty Indians rose,
Who'd hid themselves in ambush dread;
Their knives they shook, their guns they aimed,
The famous Paugus at their head.

Good heavens! they dance the Powow dance,
What horrid yells the forest fill?
The grim bear crouches in his den,
The eagle seeks the distant hill.

What means this dance, this Powow dance?
Stern Wyman said; with wonderous art,
He crept full near, his rifle aimed,
And shot the leader through the heart.

John Lovewell, captain of the band,
His sword he waved, that glittered bright,
For the last time he cheered his men,
And led them onward to the fight.

Fight on, fight on, brave Lovewell said,
Fight on, while heaven shall give you breath!
An Indian ball then pierced him through,
And Lovewell closed his eyes in death.

John Harwood died all bathed in blood,
When he had fought, till set of day;
And many more we may not name,
Fell in that bloody battle fray.

When news did come to Harwood's wife,
That he with Lovewell fought and died,
Far in the wilds had given his life,
Nor more would in their home abide,

Such grief did seize upon her mind,
Such sorrow filled her faithful breast;
On earth, she ne'er found peace again,
But followed Harwood to his rest.

'T was Paugus led the Pequa'tt tribe; —
As runs the Fox, would Paugus run;
As howls the wild wolf, would he howl,
A large bear skin had l'augus on.

But Chamberlain, of Dunstable
(One whom a savage ne'er shall slay),
Met l'augus by the water side,
And shot him dead upon that day.

Good heavens! Is this a time for pray'r?
Is this a time to worship God?
When Lovewell's men are dying fast,
And Paugus' tribe hath felt the rod?

The Chaplain's name was Jonathan Frye;
In Andover his father dwelt,
And oft with Lovewell's men he'd prayed,
Before the mortal wound he felt.

A man was he of comely form,
Polished and brave, well learnt and kind;
Old Harvard's learned halls he left,
Far in the wilds a grave to find.

Ah! now his blood-red arm he lifts,
His closing lids he tries to raise;
And speak once more before he dies,
In supplication and in praise.

He prays kind heaven to grant success,
Brave Lovewell's men to guide and bless,
And when they've shed their heart blood true,
To raise them all to happiness.

Come hither, Farwell, said young Frye,
You see that I'm about to die;
Now for the love I bear to you,
When cold in death my bones shall lie;

Go thou and see my parents dear,
And tell them you stood by me here;
Console them when they cry, Alas!
And wipe away the falling tear.

Lieutenant Farwell took his hand,
His arm around his neck he threw,
And said, brave Chaplain, I could wish,
That heaven had made me die for you.

The Chaplain on kind Farwell's breast,
Bloody and languishing he fell;
Nor after this said more, but this,
" I love thee, soldier, fare thee well. "

Ah! many a wife shall rend her hair,
And many a child cry, " Wo is me! "
When messengers the news shall bear,
Of Lovewell's dear bought victory.

With footsteps slow shall travellers go,
Where Lovewell's pond shines clear and bright,
And mark the place, where those are laid,
Who fell in Lovewell's bloody fight.

Old men shall shake their heads, and say,
Sad was the hour and terrible,
When Lovewell brave 'gainst Paugus went,
With fifty men from Dunstable.