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89
LINES TO A BULLET.
[_]
Note.—This relic of antiquity was ploughed up by Mr. T. M. Stoughton, on the site of Turner's battle, on the Gill shore of the falls that bear his name, and by him presented to the author.—On the morning of the 18th of May, 1676, Capt. Turner fell by surprise upon a tribe of Indians located on their favorite grounds, who, weary after a long carouse in honor of late successes, were despatched in great numbers before they recovered sufficiently to show fight. Others, in attempting to escape to the opposite shore, were precipitated over the cataract. In the whole affair about 300 are supposed to have perished; and their bones and utensils are often discovered by the owners of the battle ground.
Thou battered bit of ancient lead,
I bless the day when thou wast found,
And him who turned thee from thy bed
Low in the ground!
I bless the day when thou wast found,
And him who turned thee from thy bed
Low in the ground!
Relic thou art of that stern day,
When in the havoc made with life
Thy resting place, our fathers say,
Was red with strife.
When in the havoc made with life
Thy resting place, our fathers say,
Was red with strife.
Hadst thou but language, veteran ball,
Thy silence should no longer be;
The story of that fight should all
Be made to me.
Thy silence should no longer be;
The story of that fight should all
Be made to me.
How broke that fatal morn! Without
No eager dogs awoke the chase,
But battle's voice and 'larum shout
Rose stern in place.
No eager dogs awoke the chase,
But battle's voice and 'larum shout
Rose stern in place.
What bloody part to act was thine
In that dark tragedy? I 'd ask.
I would to know the tale were mine,
To tell, my task.
In that dark tragedy? I 'd ask.
I would to know the tale were mine,
To tell, my task.
I doubt not but thy viewless flight
Was winged with sudden death that day;
By thee struck palsied 'mid the fight,
The warrior lay.
Was winged with sudden death that day;
90
The warrior lay.
And, sharer of his bed in earth,
His sleep of ages was thine own;
Till time at length has called thee forth
To light, alone!
His sleep of ages was thine own;
Till time at length has called thee forth
To light, alone!
How changed to thee must earth appear,
Awaking thus from long repose!
Where fed the nimble-footed deer,
The tall grain grows.
Awaking thus from long repose!
Where fed the nimble-footed deer,
The tall grain grows.
Here did the red-browed Sagamore
His bitter, wo-fraught lesson learn;
Here did he from his wigwam door
In sorrow turn.
His bitter, wo-fraught lesson learn;
Here did he from his wigwam door
In sorrow turn.
Where are those sons of nature fled
During thy long and dreamless sleep?
Dumb as the spirits of the dead
For aye thou 'lt keep.
During thy long and dreamless sleep?
Dumb as the spirits of the dead
For aye thou 'lt keep.
Ah, sad the ties that blend with thee,
Dearer than history's storied page;
Sacred forever shalt thou be,
Relic of age!
Dearer than history's storied page;
Sacred forever shalt thou be,
Relic of age!
And as I prize thee, I 'd refuse
For thee thy weight in sordid gold,
For half thy worth by my dull muse
Cannot be told.
For thee thy weight in sordid gold,
For half thy worth by my dull muse
Cannot be told.
Thou battered bit of ancient lead!
I bless the day when thou wert found,
And him who turned thee from thy bed
Low in the ground.
I bless the day when thou wert found,
And him who turned thee from thy bed
Low in the ground.
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