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Ouâbi : or the virtues of nature

an Indian tale in four cantos

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36

Charm'd by her accents, from her sight he speeds,
Swift as the falcon darting on the prey,
With the red train in eager haste proceeds,
And fires their courage, as he leads their way.
Soon as they gain the region of the foe,
Some he directs the ambush'd path to guide,
Some with strong force to heave the sudden blow,
And some to bear the captur'd chiefs aside.
Return'd from conquest, and to case resign'd,
Th' invaded tribe their hasty arms regain,
In ev'ry step an instant death to find,
Or the sad prospect of a life of pain.
In vain Celario checks the savage hand,
The helpless mother with her infant dies,
Revenge inspires his unforgiving band,
'Till all one heap of desolation lies.
Now to the town they urge their rapid way,
With equal speed the routed foe retires,
There in the midst a tortur'd warrior lay,
Daring the fury of the raging fires.
His mangled form the tort'rers pow'r defies,
His changeless voice the song of death had sung,
No tear of pain pollutes his steady eyes,
No cry of mercy trembles on his tongue.
 

The Indians stile themselves “The red people.”

These people make it a principle to spare neither the wives nor children of their enemies; but, like the patriarchs of old, endeavour to extirpate the whole race.