 | The poetical works of William H. C. Hosmer |  |
230
NEUGA.
Tread lightly on this hillock green—
A warrior lies below;
Red rust hath spoiled his hatchet keen,
And broken is his bow;
He looked upon this pleasant scene
A thousand years ago.
A warrior lies below;
Red rust hath spoiled his hatchet keen,
And broken is his bow;
He looked upon this pleasant scene
A thousand years ago.
My mother told me, when a child,
This fearful tale of him,
While burned our camp-fire, high up-piled,
Far in the forest dim;
And fear old giants of the wild
Changed into phantoms grim.
This fearful tale of him,
While burned our camp-fire, high up-piled,
Far in the forest dim;
And fear old giants of the wild
Changed into phantoms grim.
“Neuga, in a fit of wrath,
A younger brother slew,
Who faltered on the battle-path,
And weak and timorous grew—
Unused was he to blood and scath,
And, ah! his years were few.
A younger brother slew,
Who faltered on the battle-path,
And weak and timorous grew—
Unused was he to blood and scath,
And, ah! his years were few.
“Wild horror, when the deed was done
Upon the murderer fell;
He could not look upon the sun,
Nor range the shadowed dell—
Black cords around his heart were spun,
And demons howled his knell.
Upon the murderer fell;
He could not look upon the sun,
Nor range the shadowed dell—
Black cords around his heart were spun,
And demons howled his knell.
“The wretched warrior buried not
The body, gashed and red;
A shuddering coward from the spot
With frantic bound he fled,
And grisly monsters snarled and fought
While feasting on the dead.
The body, gashed and red;
A shuddering coward from the spot
With frantic bound he fled,
231
While feasting on the dead.
“In vain, beneath the trees at night,
He couched to find repose;
Round him would gather, to affright,
Flame-eyed, unearthly foes,
Arousing him to hopeless flight
With stings and cruel blows
He couched to find repose;
Round him would gather, to affright,
Flame-eyed, unearthly foes,
Arousing him to hopeless flight
With stings and cruel blows
“Three days he wandered in the wood;
But on his rugged trail
A brother's awful ghost pursued,
Waking a hollow wail,
And curses on that man of blood
Were muttered by the gale.
But on his rugged trail
A brother's awful ghost pursued,
Waking a hollow wail,
And curses on that man of blood
Were muttered by the gale.
“A wandering hunter of the deer
His beaded knee-belt found,
And tracked the haggard murderer here
With instinct like a hound,
Who told this tale of guilt and fear,
Expiring on the ground.
His beaded knee-belt found,
And tracked the haggard murderer here
With instinct like a hound,
Who told this tale of guilt and fear,
Expiring on the ground.
“A curse is clinging to the mould
Of his dishonored grave;
No flowers of summer there unfold,
But weeds and nettles wave;
And fiends troop thither when the cold,
Rude winds of autumn rave.
Of his dishonored grave;
No flowers of summer there unfold,
But weeds and nettles wave;
And fiends troop thither when the cold,
Rude winds of autumn rave.
“Yon golden gate was firmly barred
When westward strayed his ghost;
A mighty spirit, keeping guard,
Cried:—‘Seek that gloomy coast
Where dwell the doomed and thunder-scarred,
A melancholy host!’”
When westward strayed his ghost;
A mighty spirit, keeping guard,
Cried:—‘Seek that gloomy coast
Where dwell the doomed and thunder-scarred,
A melancholy host!’”
| The poetical works of William H. C. Hosmer | |