 | The poetical works of William H. C. Hosmer |  |
188
TEWANNA.
“All things that we ordained festival
Turn from their office to black funeral:
Our instruments to melancholy bells;
Our wedding cheer to a sad funeral feast;
Our solemn hymns to sullen dirges change.”
Shakespeare.
Turn from their office to black funeral:
Our instruments to melancholy bells;
Our wedding cheer to a sad funeral feast;
Our solemn hymns to sullen dirges change.”
Shakespeare.
Oh! changed is this vale since the lovers were laid
At the foot of a sycamore tree,
Whose pillar-like trunk throws its beautiful shade
On the banks of the dark Genesee.
One morning, in June, to the spot I was led
By the son of a perishing race,
And he told me a story allied to the dead
That renders more holy the place.
At the foot of a sycamore tree,
Whose pillar-like trunk throws its beautiful shade
On the banks of the dark Genesee.
One morning, in June, to the spot I was led
By the son of a perishing race,
And he told me a story allied to the dead
That renders more holy the place.
“Pale boy,” said the falcon-eyed man of the wild,
In the tremulous accents of grief,
“Many summers have ended since weeping ones piled
Yon mould on a maiden and chief.
The soul of Tewanna dwells now in that land
Where suns in the west never set,
But I still see her look of expressiveness bland,
Her dark eye is visible yet.
In the tremulous accents of grief,
“Many summers have ended since weeping ones piled
Yon mould on a maiden and chief.
The soul of Tewanna dwells now in that land
Where suns in the west never set,
But I still see her look of expressiveness bland,
Her dark eye is visible yet.
“In the lodge of a sachem the damsel grew up,
With a smile like the dawning of light;
Her form vied the lily in grace when its cup
Is bestudded with gems of the night.
The girls of her tribe glen and precipice sought
For trophies to lay at her feet;
To garland her brow from the wilderness brought
Gay blue-bell and violet sweet.
With a smile like the dawning of light;
Her form vied the lily in grace when its cup
Is bestudded with gems of the night.
The girls of her tribe glen and precipice sought
For trophies to lay at her feet;
To garland her brow from the wilderness brought
Gay blue-bell and violet sweet.
189
“The power of her charms woke the torturing fire
Of passion in many a breast,
But the son of a chieftain in league with her sire
Her vow of fidelity blest.
His shaft pierced the wild deer in pride of its speed,
In battle his hatchet was true;
His foot was more fleet than the prairie-born steed
That rider, or rein never knew.
Of passion in many a breast,
But the son of a chieftain in league with her sire
Her vow of fidelity blest.
His shaft pierced the wild deer in pride of its speed,
In battle his hatchet was true;
His foot was more fleet than the prairie-born steed
That rider, or rein never knew.
“The time I remember when marriage guests met,
And gave their loud mirth to the air;
While Tewanna came forth—her long tresses of jet
Interwoven with ornaments rare.
Her look I remember of utter dismay
When the Seneca prophet thus spake:—
‘The heart that is beating so gladly to-day,
With grief on the morrow will break!
And gave their loud mirth to the air;
While Tewanna came forth—her long tresses of jet
Interwoven with ornaments rare.
Her look I remember of utter dismay
When the Seneca prophet thus spake:—
‘The heart that is beating so gladly to-day,
With grief on the morrow will break!
“‘Is the bridegroom a laggard?—what fetters his limb
While tribesmen his coming await?
Is he searching out game in the wilderness dim,
Or some proud bridal-gift for his mate?
The forehead, now wearing the sign of delight,
Will darken with sorrow ere long,
For the whippowil came to my lodge yesternight,
And chanted an ominous song.’
While tribesmen his coming await?
Is he searching out game in the wilderness dim,
Or some proud bridal-gift for his mate?
The forehead, now wearing the sign of delight,
Will darken with sorrow ere long,
For the whippowil came to my lodge yesternight,
And chanted an ominous song.’
“Day faded apace, and the timorous deer
Sought a flowery couch in the shade,
But the lover came not with his presence to cheer
The heart of his beautiful maid.
When the last gleam of day from the occident fled,
And darkness infolded the cloud,
From the lodge of their sachem with whisper of dread,
And presentiment dark went the crowd.
Sought a flowery couch in the shade,
But the lover came not with his presence to cheer
The heart of his beautiful maid.
When the last gleam of day from the occident fled,
And darkness infolded the cloud,
From the lodge of their sachem with whisper of dread,
And presentiment dark went the crowd.
“Next morn, from the chase an old hunter came back,
And reported in faltering words,
That deep in the wood he was lured from his track
By the screaming of carrion birds;
That in a lone glen, where dark hemlock shut out
The cheerful effulgence of day,
While the hoarse raven flew in swift circles about,
The corse of a warrior lay.
And reported in faltering words,
190
By the screaming of carrion birds;
That in a lone glen, where dark hemlock shut out
The cheerful effulgence of day,
While the hoarse raven flew in swift circles about,
The corse of a warrior lay.
“We went forth in haste to the desolate glen,
And the loved of Tewanna we found—
Near the body were foot-prints of ruffian men,
And marks of red strife were around.
The blended expression of wrath and disdain
His visage yet fearfully wore—
The long, slender arrow wherewith he was slain,
Was dyed to the feather in gore.
And the loved of Tewanna we found—
Near the body were foot-prints of ruffian men,
And marks of red strife were around.
The blended expression of wrath and disdain
His visage yet fearfully wore—
The long, slender arrow wherewith he was slain,
Was dyed to the feather in gore.
“On litter with moss of the forest bespread
We mournfully placed the young chief;
Then homeward we carried the slumbering dead,
Our faces bent downward in grief.
A dirge for the fallen we solemnly raised,
And were met by the youthful and old,
Who circled the death-couch, and fearfully gazed
On the sleeper, unbreathing and cold.
We mournfully placed the young chief;
Then homeward we carried the slumbering dead,
Our faces bent downward in grief.
A dirge for the fallen we solemnly raised,
And were met by the youthful and old,
Who circled the death-couch, and fearfully gazed
On the sleeper, unbreathing and cold.
“‘Make room for the maid that in life he loved well!’
Said a voice, as Tewanna drew near;
She caught but one glimpse of the features, and fell
An inanimate corse by the bier.
On the following day weeping relatives laid
The Warrior-Chief in his gore,
By the side of his love in a tomb rudely made
At the foot of yon old sycamore.”
Said a voice, as Tewanna drew near;
She caught but one glimpse of the features, and fell
An inanimate corse by the bier.
On the following day weeping relatives laid
The Warrior-Chief in his gore,
By the side of his love in a tomb rudely made
At the foot of yon old sycamore.”
| The poetical works of William H. C. Hosmer | |