 | The poetical works of William H. C. Hosmer |  |
227
THE GREAT YELLOW BIRD.
“What bird in the distance is fanning the blast,
His way winging hither so fearful and fast?
Oh, bright are the tints of a mid-summer day,
But his plumes have a far richer golden than they;
Now larger, and larger he looms on the sight,
And rises and falls like a wave in his flight;—
Fly, fly to your cabins! disaster he brings,
And a storm is uproused by the rush of his wings.”
His way winging hither so fearful and fast?
Oh, bright are the tints of a mid-summer day,
But his plumes have a far richer golden than they;
Now larger, and larger he looms on the sight,
And rises and falls like a wave in his flight;—
Fly, fly to your cabins! disaster he brings,
And a storm is uproused by the rush of his wings.”
The wild, warning words of the vigilant seer
Sent homeward the sons of the forest in fear;
They prayed to the Master of Life in their need—
Outstripped by the cloud-cleaving creature in speed,
The roar of a battle would not have been heard,
If raging, when by flew that ominous bird;
The voice of the mighty Heh-nù have been drowned
By the flap of his pinions—Oh! terrible sound!
Sent homeward the sons of the forest in fear;
They prayed to the Master of Life in their need—
Outstripped by the cloud-cleaving creature in speed,
The roar of a battle would not have been heard,
If raging, when by flew that ominous bird;
The voice of the mighty Heh-nù have been drowned
By the flap of his pinions—Oh! terrible sound!
Men, women and children fell prone on the earth,
And rent was the cabin from ridge-pole to hearth—
In passing, so strong was the tempest it made
That low was the pride of the wilderness laid:
O'er the Lake of Oncida it swept on its way,
Awaking the waters in thunder and spray:
Then hurried along, in its merciless course,
Announced by the whirlwind, its trumpeter hoarse.
And rent was the cabin from ridge-pole to hearth—
In passing, so strong was the tempest it made
That low was the pride of the wilderness laid:
O'er the Lake of Oncida it swept on its way,
Awaking the waters in thunder and spray:
Then hurried along, in its merciless course,
Announced by the whirlwind, its trumpeter hoarse.
To memorize ever the wondrous event
By the Great Spirit here was the Yellow Bird sent;
It comes from the south in the season when passed
That fiend, o'er this beautiful land, on the blast;
Its feathers the same golden coloring wear,
Up and down, up and down is its motion through air—
Woe! woe to the bowman who crimsons its breast!
Woe! woe to the stripling who rifles its nest!
By the Great Spirit here was the Yellow Bird sent;
It comes from the south in the season when passed
That fiend, o'er this beautiful land, on the blast;
Its feathers the same golden coloring wear,
Up and down, up and down is its motion through air—
Woe! woe to the bowman who crimsons its breast!
Woe! woe to the stripling who rifles its nest!
| The poetical works of William H. C. Hosmer | |