University of Virginia Library

Search this document 

collapse section 
collapse section 
 1. 
 2. 
 3. 
 4. 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
collapse section 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
collapse section 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
collapse section 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
collapse section 
collapse section 
 1. 
 2. 
 3. 
 4. 
 5. 
 6. 
 7. 
 8. 
 9. 
 10. 
 11. 
 12. 
 13. 
 14. 
 15. 
 16. 
 17. 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
collapse section 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
STORY OF THE MOUND.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  

STORY OF THE MOUND.

Far in the West, where the great rivers run,
Evermore crossing the path of the sun—
Far in the West, on the low, level lands,
Silent a mound in the solitude stands.
What is its history? Who can unfold,
Fathom its mystery, cloudy, untold?
No one has answered the problem of years—
Listen the story that fell on my ears.
Once in that region, long centuries since,
Dwelt there a people and reigned there a prince;

653

Sunk were that people in thraldom abhorred;
Cruel that ruler as ever wore sword.
Gloomy in peace-time and joyous in strife,
Born lacking pity, and reckless of life,
Nothing whatever it mattered to him
What his thralls suffered to pleasure his whim.
Much he repined that his dwelling should stand
Scarcely above the mean cabins at hand—
Chafed that his palace no higher should be
Than the poor huts of the low in degree.
Therefore he summoned his serfs to the toil—
Emmets, and ant-hill to raise on the soil:
Quick they obeyed him in spite of their tears,
Heaping this mound by the labor of years.
When in his eyes of right size it appeared,
High on its summit a palace was reared—
Timbers unhewn, of adobe the wall;
Yet 'twas a palace, and stately and tall.
“Here,” he exclaimed, “shall my greatness have room,
Palace while living, and after, my tomb;
Monument this of my power and my pride,
Record of me and my glory beside.
“Here when at last I have ended my reign,
Evermore glorious this will remain;
Here when my people have all passed away,
Firmly will stand this, my structure of clay.
“When in the future they come to the place,
Seeking to learn of a long-perished race,

654

Though all tradition to teach them should fail,
Symbols here carven shall tell them the tale.
“Then will they wonder to know of my fame,
Silent and awe-struck will gaze at my name,
Speak of me humbly and reverent then,
As of the greatest of rulers of men.”
They, when he died (even princes expire),
Built him no tomb, and they raised him no pyre;
But, as he ordered, they buried him there
In this clay palace, and honored his heir.
Centuries passed, and some travellers came,
Gazed on the mound, but they knew not the name—
Name of its founder; the palace of clay
Time and the rain-storm had carried away.
Naught but the earth-mound remained, and they said:
“Break through the soil; 'tis some home for the dead;
Let us discover what there may be found—”
So with their mattocks they opened the mound.
Slabs of red sandstone they found; under those
Beads and stone hammers their labors disclose,
Fillet of copper, and sword, green with rust,
Bones that on meeting the air fell to dust.
As for the prince, of his name or his fame
Nothing was known by the strangers who came;
Little they marvelled at relics they found;
Only their wonder arose at the mound.