University of Virginia Library

SCENE FROM A MANUSCRIPT DRAMA.

[A GLADE IN THE FOREST.]
Flying Arrow.
Your sire is famed for promptness; what precludes
His presence from the council?

Neuga.
I know not:
He is much changed of late, and often pays
Sad visits to my sister's gory couch;
And breathes his incoherent words of wail
To rocks, unsympathizing trees, and lifts
His shrivel'd hands in gnashing madness up
Invoking retribution from the clouds.
On his bald brow hangs gloom, and in the sports,
And loud, light laughter of the festal throng
He finds no joy. While others join the dance,
And move to music round the monarch oak,
He seeks some lone, sad haunt, and fires his brain
With plans of vengeance, or inures his frame
To suffering and hardship on the hills:
Aye! scorning other weapon than his knife,
He dares the panther in his lair of rock,
Or wrestles with the rough bear in his den,
And bares his bosom to the pelting storm
When the dumb beast seeks covert, and beholds
The lightning leap through Heaven, and hears the while
Deep, quailing thunder; for his mood accords
With Nature in her frantic hour of wrath.
[Enter Swamp Fox.]
Where is the Sachem?

Swamp Fox.
In the wood shot down;
While walking by my side, the cruel shaft,
Dyed to the feather, quivered in his back
Before I dreamed of danger; and he fell,
Essaying vainly to articulate.
Like panther, in pursuit of deer, I strove
To overtake the slayer, fell Magua!
But my old limbs, stiff with the weight of years,
The foe outmatched in speed.

Neuga.
Woes fall so thick,
And heavy on my soul, this last great blow
Moves not a muscle: so used am I to wrong
That all the springs of tenderness are dried.
My sister murder'd—wife in bondage dire—
My name almost extinct—my country made
A theatre of butchery and blood,
And finally to crown the ills of Fate
My royal father killed outright; his locks
Once white as wintry snow by traitor changed
To redness deep and foul. How long shall we
Waste time in words, loud groans and vain regrets,
While Ruin unopposed pursues his course?
In the mad conflict quick and glorious death
Would suit me better than a life like this.
I hear the raven croaking in the wood,
Eager to steep his claws and carrion beak
In the yet reeking slain—an hour ago
Your Sachem and the Ruler of this realm.

Swamp Fox.
The white-browed hell hounds from beyond the sea,
And the fell traitor, flushed with victory
Keep careless watch, and deem the Senecas,
Weak, few and panic-struck, no more
Will dare oppose their power.

Neuga.
To-night, to-night I swear
My tomahawk shall glitter in their camp—
My bow shall twang the fatal note of death,
And if I fall, my ghost shall join the dead
In the bright West where Ou-wee-nee-you smiles
On Valor passing through his gates of gold.

Flying Arrow.
We follow where you venture, and the light
Of morrow's morn shall view our corpses cold;
Or fierce Invasion crushed—our country free.