Virginalia ; or, songs of my summer nights :: :: University of Virginia Library

It will be now, the next Moon of young flowers,
Just seven-times-ten long snows of rushing hours,
With four Moons more, since mother gave me birth,
And raised me up to wander on this earth.
Nursed in the wind-rocked cradle of the beach,
I grew unharmed above the Panther's reach—
Beneath the Mighty Oaks whose stately ranks
Now bristle on the Muschecheebee's banks.
But fatal, fatal, fatal was the day
When Chactas came from Pensacola Bay!

I was but sixteen fallings of the leaf,
When Outalissa, son of Miscou, Chief
In Cuscovilla's Valley, went to war
Against the Muscogulgees from afar—
When, on the mighty River of Mobile,
My father fell beneath an Outcast's steel!

The Thunders echoed to his dying groan,
Responsive to the echoes of mine own!
For fatal, fatal, fatal was the day
When Chactas came from Pensacola Bay!

But so Areskou willed it from the sky,
Though it was hard for me to see him die!
And they had nearly torn me limb from limb,
As by his side I stood defending him—
(Would that mine own had followed him where rolls
The mighty River to the Land of Souls!)—
But then they made me captive in the fight,
And bound me in their wigwam all the night!
Ah! fatal, fatal, fatal was the day
When Chactas came from Pensacola Bay!

Then it was thought that we were doomed to go
And tend the Silver-Mines of Mexico;
But Lopez, a Castillian, who was kind,
Persuaded them to let me stay behind.
Moved by my youth, (then scarcely seventeen,)
He took me home with him to Augustine.
But after thirty Moons were spent with him,
My health declined—my very eyes grew dim!
But fatal, fatal, fatal was the day
When Chactas came from Pensacola Bay.

And though he often urged me to remain,
I longed to see my native land again.
“Alas! then, Child of Nature! go,” said he,
“Where some remembrances were left by me!”
And saying this, he took me by the hand,
And bade me farewell for my native land.

But when he said that we should meet no more,
I never felt so sorrowful before!
For fatal, fatal, fatal was the day
When Chactas left old Pensacola Bay.

But ere my feet had touched my native sod,
Because I had refused to worship God—
(As Lopez had foretold me on that day—)
The Muscogulgees caught me by the way,
And bound me, in the midst of all my grief,
And took me back to Simighan, their Chief,
Who called aloud to me to speak my name?
I TOLD him, “Chactas!” “Chactas! 'tis the same!”
Ah! fatal, fatal, fatal was the day
When Chactas came from Pensacola Bay!

“The Son of Outalissa?” “Thou should'st know,”
I said, then pointed to my Locust Bow.
“See you this dress—these feathers on my head?”
I am his son. The Nation's Chief is dead!”
And then, as if made frantic with delight,
He said, “Rejoice! for thou shalt die to-night!”
I knew that all was over with me then,
And Hope should never visit me again!
Ah! fatal, fatal, fatal was the day
When Chactas came from Pensacola Bay!

I knew, from that sad hour, that but to die
Was all my portion—yet, made no reply.
And as they bore me through the mighty throng,
I chaunted out aloud mine own Death-Song!
And then they bound me to an old Oak Tree,
On Apalachachulee by the sea,
And built around me my funeral Pile,
Making their Warriors watch me all the while!
Ah! fatal, fatal, fatal was the day
When Chactas came from Pensacola Bay!

And when the Virgins saw my wretched state,
They mourned, as women always do, my fate!
And asked me, when they wished my heart to prove,
“If aught had ever whispered me of love?
If ever, on the green banks of the streams,
I had beheld the young Hind in my dreams?”
I then replied, “The Flowers love not the dew
With half the tenderness I feel for you!”
But fatal, fatal, fatal was the day
When Chactas came from Pensacola Bay!

“You have the Magic Words to cancel pain,
And though we part, yet we shall meet again!”
Pleased with my flattery, they then gave to me
A Bowl of Syrup from the Maple-tree.
And when I told them I was doomed to die—
Through fiery flames to soar to Heaven on high!
They sighed in sorrow for my tender years,
And stood, lamenting by my couch, in tears!
Ah! fatal, fatal, fatal was the day
When Chactas left old Pensacola Bay!

The night arrived. The pale Moon seemed to glide,
Weeping through Heaven, like Sorrow by my side—
When, ló! before me, swaying down the grass,
A Maiden, beautiful as Heaven, did pass,
With noiseless steps, upon the silver sands,—
Then, turning round, untied my fettered hands!
“It was Celuta! Angel of my heart!
With whom, rejoicing, I did then depart!
For blessed, blessed, blessed was the day
When Chactas came from Pensacola Bay.

Villa Allegra, Ga., July 10, 1839.

The Mississippi.

The God of War.