 | Songs of field and flood |  |
31
IMAGINED FEELINGS OF A CHOCTAW INDIAN.
[_]
Supposed to be spoken by a Choctaw Indian, who sat, wrapped in his blanket, on a burnt trunk of a tree, in a pine wilderness, watching the cars go by on the newly commenced Mobile and Ohio Railroad, Feb. 12, 1852.
Dash on, thou bellowing buffalo!
The monster with the glaring eyes,
That, lightning-snorting, hurriest so,
While back the affrighted forest flies.
Speed, Pale-face, speed thy fiery car!
Its roar and rumbling seem to me,
As on it clatters fast and far,
The thunder-tramp of destiny.
The monster with the glaring eyes,
That, lightning-snorting, hurriest so,
While back the affrighted forest flies.
Speed, Pale-face, speed thy fiery car!
Its roar and rumbling seem to me,
As on it clatters fast and far,
The thunder-tramp of destiny.
32
Ay, well I hear in that harsh roar,
That crashes through the forest-space,
The bolt of doom for evermore
Fall, crushing, on the red man's race.
Farewell, ye noble hunting grounds,
Farewell, ye haunts and homes of ours!
The white man, with his iron hounds,
A howling pack, our purlieu scours.
That crashes through the forest-space,
The bolt of doom for evermore
Fall, crushing, on the red man's race.
Farewell, ye noble hunting grounds,
Farewell, ye haunts and homes of ours!
The white man, with his iron hounds,
A howling pack, our purlieu scours.
Like this burnt trunk I sit upon,
Our race, in still and sure decay,
Is crumbling fast—'twill soon be gone,
And leave no trace behind, for aye!
Then, monster, dash along thy track
Through Indian grounds, o'er Indian graves!
Fate's iron chariot rolls not back,—
We seek, O sun! the western waves!
Our race, in still and sure decay,
Is crumbling fast—'twill soon be gone,
And leave no trace behind, for aye!
Then, monster, dash along thy track
Through Indian grounds, o'er Indian graves!
Fate's iron chariot rolls not back,—
We seek, O sun! the western waves!
| Songs of field and flood | |