University of Virginia Library

Within the shelter of the primal wood,
An isle amid the prairie's flow'ry sea,
Upon his midnight watch, our sentry stood,
Guarding the slumbers of the brave and free;
And o'er the swellings of a seeming tide,
Dim sparkling in the moonlight's silv'ry haze,
The soldier oft, distrustful, far and wide,
Sent searching looks, or fixed his steadfast gaze.
Long had he watch'd; and still each grassy wave
Brought nought save perfumes to the tented isle;
Nor sign of foe the fragrant breezes gave;
Till thoughts of cabin-home his sense beguile,
Far from the wilds: for yet, though fix'd intent,
As if his eyes discerned a coming host,
Those moisten'd eyes are on his lov'd ones bent—
He sleeps not; but the dreams upon his post.

Soldier! what current like a hast'ning stream,
Outstrips the flowing of you lagging waves?
Shake off the fetters of thy fatal dream!
Quick! save thy comrades from their bloody graves!
He starts!—he marks the prairie's bosom shake!
He sees that current to the woodland near!
He kneels—upleaps and cries—“Comrades, awake!
To arms! to arms!—the treach'rous foe is here!”
“Like mountain torrent, furious gushing,
The warrior tribe is on us rushing,—
With weapons in their red hands gleaming,
And charmed banners from them streaming!
To arms! to arms! ye slumb'ring brave!
To arms!—your lives and honor save!”
Arm'd, from the earth, our host is springing;
Their sabres forth from sheaths are ringing;
Their chargers mounted, fierce are prancing;
Their serried bay'nets swift advancing:—
“Quick, to your posts!” the general's cry,
Answer'd, “We're there, to do or die!”
Hand to hand, within that solemn wood,
For life, fought warriors true and good!
The hatchet through the brain went crushing!
The bay'net brought the heart blood gushing!
On arrows' feather'd wings death went,
Or swift, at the rifle flash, was sent,
Till victor shouts the air was rending,
And groans the wounded forth were sending!
“Charge! soldiers, charge!” brave Davies shouted;
They charg'd; the yelling foe was routed;—
Yet long before that foe was flying,
That hero, on the plain, was dying!
That prairie lake rolls peaceful waves no more;
Its bosom rages 'neath a tempest pow'r—
See! driven midst it, from the woodland shore,
Fierce bands rush vanquish'd from a deadly show'r!
And gleaming steel, and lead and iron hail
Pour vengeful out of war's dark sky,

'Mid shriek, and fright, and groan, and dying wail,
And triumph's voice, “Charge home! they fly!”
Solemn the pomp where mourning heroes tread
With arms revers'd, and measur'd step, and slow!
Sadly, yet proud, is borne their comrade dead,
Their warlike ensigns bound with badge of woe!
Sublime, though plaintive, pours the clarion's tone!
The heart, while bow'd, is stirred by muffled drum!
But stand within that far-off wild wood lone,
Where Prairie scented winds, with dirges, come,
Where the rough bark, rude grav'd with hunter's knife,
Points to the spot where Davies rests below,
And relics scatter'd, tell of bloodiest strife—
Heart gushing tears from dimming eyes must flow!
And round thy mournful bier, our warrior sage;
Who rushing reckless to each fiercest fight,
Didst fall a victim to no foeman's rage
Amid the camage of that fearful night,
A nation, yet, in tears, has smitten stood
Grieving o'er thee with loud and bitter cry!
Rest thee, our hero of that island wood!
Worthy in thine own ransom'd West to lie!
When floating down Ohio's grand old wave,
Our eyes shall turn to where his forests stand,
Stretching dark branches o'er our chieftain's grave—
Father and saviour of the Western's land!