Chips, fragments and vestiges by Gail Hamilton collected and arranged by H. Augusta Dodge |
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THE LAST INDIAN |
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 | Chips, fragments and vestiges by Gail Hamilton |  |
53
THE LAST INDIAN
On Monoiska's rocky banks,
Osconeoma stood;
Upon its dark blue marsh he gazed,
In melancholy mood.
Osconeoma stood;
Upon its dark blue marsh he gazed,
In melancholy mood.
The twilight long had passed away,
The moon was shining bright,
But to the Indian's lonely heart
It brought no silvery light.
The moon was shining bright,
But to the Indian's lonely heart
It brought no silvery light.
He heard the autumn's whistling winds,
The waves' low, sullen roll,
And darker, deeper gloom o'erspread
Osconeoma's soul.
The waves' low, sullen roll,
And darker, deeper gloom o'erspread
Osconeoma's soul.
Remembered he the former days,
Before the white man came
To grasp the Indian's hunting ground—
Destroy the Indian's name.
Before the white man came
To grasp the Indian's hunting ground—
Destroy the Indian's name.
Remembered he the former days,
When proud, and brave, and free,
His father tribe was six-score souls,
A noble band to see.
When proud, and brave, and free,
His father tribe was six-score souls,
A noble band to see.
Remembered he their mighty deeds,
Their power could none withstand;
Fearless, unconquered, long they reigned,
The masters of the land.
Their power could none withstand;
Fearless, unconquered, long they reigned,
The masters of the land.
54
But then there dawned an evil day;
They saw the paleface come,
And on their coasts a harbor find,
And on their soil a home.
They saw the paleface come,
And on their coasts a harbor find,
And on their soil a home.
And day by day, and year by year
The strangers' might increased,
And feebler waxed the Indian's strength,
Till now, his rule had ceased.
The strangers' might increased,
And feebler waxed the Indian's strength,
Till now, his rule had ceased.
Long, long Osconeoma stood,
And deep and fearful gloom
Came o'er his soul, as thus he mused
Upon the Indian's doom.
And deep and fearful gloom
Came o'er his soul, as thus he mused
Upon the Indian's doom.
Beneath the forest shade reposed
The ashes of his race;
And there his own, he long had hoped,
Would find a resting place.
The ashes of his race;
And there his own, he long had hoped,
Would find a resting place.
“Why tarries the Great Spirit thus?”
The Indian sighed alone;
“Why sends he not for me to go
Where all the brave have gone?
The Indian sighed alone;
“Why sends he not for me to go
Where all the brave have gone?
“Truly, the Father hath forgot,
So shall I never see
The wild chase and the hunting ground
He hath prepared for me.
So shall I never see
The wild chase and the hunting ground
He hath prepared for me.
55
“Yet will I go, I know I may,
To reach that distant spot—
The rolling waves are black and cold,
The Indian fears them not.”
To reach that distant spot—
The rolling waves are black and cold,
The Indian fears them not.”
Unearthly fire is in his eye,
His youthful strength returns,
And now his wildly throbbing breast
With strange excitement burns.
His youthful strength returns,
And now his wildly throbbing breast
With strange excitement burns.
“Souls of my Fathers!” loud he cries,
“I come to join your songs;
Revenge, Great Spirit, oh, revenge
Osconeoma's wrongs!”
“I come to join your songs;
Revenge, Great Spirit, oh, revenge
Osconeoma's wrongs!”
One fearful plunge, one wild death-shriek
The echoing rocks resound;
And he has vanished—all is still—
Dread silence reigns around.
The echoing rocks resound;
And he has vanished—all is still—
Dread silence reigns around.
Fair Monoiska's gentle waves
Uptoss the tiny surge,
And, with the low rocks, murmuring make
Osconeoma's dirge.
Uptoss the tiny surge,
And, with the low rocks, murmuring make
Osconeoma's dirge.
Mary Abby Dodge.
Ipswich Female Seminary, Oct. 6, 1849.
| Chips, fragments and vestiges by Gail Hamilton | |