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'Tis not the court, in dazzling splendor gay,
Where soft luxuriance spreads her silken arms,
Where gairish fancy leads the soul astray,
And languid nature mourns her slighted charms:
'Tis not the golden hill, not flow'ry dale,
Which lends my simple muse her artless theme;
But the black forest and uncultur'd vale,
The savage warrior, and the lonely stream.

10

Where Missisippi rolls his parent stood
With slope impetuous to the surgy main,
The desert's painted chiefs explore the wood,
Or with the thund'ring war-whoop shake the plain.
There the fierce sachems raise the battle's din,
Or in the stream their active bodies lave,
Or midst the flames their fearless songs begin —
Pain has no terrors to the truly brave.
There young CELARIO, Europe's fairest boast,
In hopeless exile mourn'd the tedious day;
Now wand'ring slowly o'er the oozy coast,
Now thro the wild woods urg'd his anxious way.
Where the low stooping branch excludes the light,
A piercing shriek assail'd his wounded ear;
Swift as the winged arrow speeds its flight,
He seeks the piteous harbinger of fear.
There a tall Huron rais'd his threat'ning arm,
While round his knees a beauteous captive clung,
Striving to move him with her matchless form,
Or charm him by the magic of her tongue.

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Soon as Celario view'd the murd'rous scene,
Quick from his vest the deathful tube he drew;
Its leaden vengeance thunder'd o'er the green,
While from the savage hand the ling'ring hatchet flew.
Low at his feet the breathless warrior lies;
Still the soft captive sickens with alarms,
Calls on OUÂBI's name with streaming eyes,
While the young victor lives upon her charms.
Her limbs were straighter than the mountain pine,
Her hair far blacker than the raven's wing;
Beauty had lent her form the waving line,
Her breath gave fragrance to the balmy spring.
Each bright perfection open'd on her face,
Her flowing garment wanton'd in the breeze,
Her slender feet the glitt'ring sandals grace,
Her look was dignity, her movement ease.
With splendid beads her braided tresses shone,
Her bending waist a modest girdle bound,
Her pearly teeth outvi'd the cygnet's down—
She spoke—and music follow'd in the sound.
 

Missisippi, an Indian name, signifying the great father of rivers. It is subject to no tides, but from its source in the north of the American Continent flows with rapid force, till it empties itself into the Gulph of Mexico.

War-whoop, the cry of battle, with which they always make their onset.

The American Indians, after exhausting every species of cruelty and torture upon their most distinguished prisoners, burn them by a distant fire; who expire singing songs of glory and defiance.

See Hogarth's Line of Beauty.

The sandals are ornamented either with little glistening bells, or with a great variety of shining beads and feathers.