 | [Poems by Sargent in] The token and Atlantic souvenir, a Christmas and New Year's present |  |
115
THE TOKEN.
“Brave son of a Chieftain! beloved Cherokee!
This token of wampum is woven for thee;
A token to flutter and shine on thy breast,—
My bravest and brightest, my wisest and best!
This token of wampum is woven for thee;
A token to flutter and shine on thy breast,—
My bravest and brightest, my wisest and best!
“'Tis woven with coral, with beads, and with shells;
It shall be on thy breast the most potent of spells,
To save thee from ambush, to shield thee from harm,
To quicken thy sight, and give strength to thine arm.
It shall be on thy breast the most potent of spells,
To save thee from ambush, to shield thee from harm,
To quicken thy sight, and give strength to thine arm.
“Rejoicer in battle! what forest or stream
Sees thy heron-plume wave, and thy tomahawk gleam?
Does the Father of Waters sweep on thy sharp prow?
Sure threader of dark woods! Oh, where art thou now?
Sees thy heron-plume wave, and thy tomahawk gleam?
Does the Father of Waters sweep on thy sharp prow?
Sure threader of dark woods! Oh, where art thou now?
“Dost hunt the fierce bison, or shoot the fleet deer?
O'er the prairie's wide level dost bend thy career?
Or, worn with the heat and the toil of the chase,
Does the mist of the cataract moisten thy face?”
O'er the prairie's wide level dost bend thy career?
Or, worn with the heat and the toil of the chase,
Does the mist of the cataract moisten thy face?”
116
While thus spake the maiden, an eagle, who beat
The clouds with his pinions, fell dead at her feet!
And the arrow, which reached him, while mounting so free,
Was sped from the bow of the young Cherokee.
The clouds with his pinions, fell dead at her feet!
And the arrow, which reached him, while mounting so free,
Was sped from the bow of the young Cherokee.
| [Poems by Sargent in] The token and Atlantic souvenir, a Christmas and New Year's present | |