The Poetic Writings of Thomas Cradock, 1718-1770

Tachanoontia, & Gachradidow, two Indians, meeting together, bewail the common Loss of their Lands, usurp'd by the English; thence are led to celebrate the Worth of Shuncallamie, one of their Chiefs; & at last, Gachradidow sings in Praise of that Liberty which in the most severe Distresses they are still resolv'd to enjoy.

Tachanoontia, Gachradidow,
Tachanoontia:
Hoa, Gachradidow, whither art thou going?

Moeris: Ecloga 9a Lycidas, Moeris
Ly:
Quo' te, Moeri, pedes? an quo via ducit in urbem?

Gachradidow:
To Town, to pay some Skins

Deer Skins;—the Indians kill a great many, & sell the skins for Triffles to the Traders.

I've long been owing.
—O Tachanoontia, see our Wayward Fate;
Strangers how Lord it, where we liv'd alate,
‘Away, you Scoundrels, you've no Business here;’
Are Sounds which once we thought to hear.
Now driven far distant from our native Lands,
(So Heav'n ordains—that Heav'n, which all commands).
We live in Want, in Poverty, in Pain,
And part with all our Skins for little Gain.

Mo:
O Lycida, vivi pervenimus, advena nostri,
(Quod nunqm veriti sumus) ut possessor agelli
Diceret: Haec mea sunt; veteres migrate coloni.
Nunc victi, tristes, quoniam fors omnia versat,
Hos illi mittimus haedos.

Tachanoontia:
Surely I've heard—if what I've heard, is true—
That by our Indian Road a Line they drew,
Which Line by Treaty was the Barrier made,
For both, all future Wranglings to evade.

Ly:
Certe equidem audieram, qua se subducere colles
Incipiunt &c.
Omnia carminibus vestrum servasse Menalcan

Gachradidow:
'Twas Truth;—But what will Treaties e'er avail

191

With Christian-Whites, whose Av'rice grasps at all?
As wisely might you hope, the plaintive Dove
The hungry Eagle's empty Maw might move.

Mo:
Audieras & fama fuit: sed carmina tantum
Nostra valent, Lycida, tela inter Martia quantu
Chaonais dicunt aguila veniente, columbas.

Soon they encroach'd upon us, kill'd our Deer
And, did they not our wild Resentment fear,
Of all our Lands we'ad quickly been depriv'd,
And must without our Venison have liv'd:
Your Gachradidow wou'd have wanted Pone,

Bread made of Maize or Indian Corn.

And what wou'd great Shuncallamie ha' done?

Nec tuus hic Moeris, nec viveret ipse Menalcas

Tachanoontia:
Shuncallamie? Wou'd he to Ills submit,
Whose stubborn Soul ne'er knew a Master yet?

Ly:
Quis caneret Nymphas? quis &c.

Who then should teach our brawny youth to sling
The hissing Stone, or missive Shaft to wing?
Who bid 'em, with loud chearful Cries, advance
Against the hostile Fort, in Warlike Dance?
Who sing our Warriours in melodious Strains,
How they with Villain Blood have died the Plains;
How with Katawby

A nation of Indians ever in war with the Indians of the Six Nations; who are the Borderers on Mary Land, Penn. & New York. At the last Treaty between Virg & Mard with the S Nat, when the Virginians would have made Peace between them, our Indians said the Kat had so affronted them that they never wou'd, & had called them women & not men; whereas themselves were men & double men for they had two—.

—Furies they've engag'd,
And War unequal, tho' successful wag'd?

Gachradidow:
Or rather, who our Liberty shall sing,
Of all the joys we yet retain, the Spring?
That we have yet—& oh! while that we have,
Distresses, e'er so great; we'll nobly brave.
Tho' Swarms of Ch[ri]stian-Scoundrels round us roam,
Afraid, at least, asham'd, to stay at Home,

In good Truth; the case of most of us.

In strains as sweet as Mocking-bird's we'll shew,

Mo:
Imo haec quae Varo canebat
Vare, tuum nomen.
Cantantes sublime ferent ad sidera cycni

Our gen'rous Hearts with Love of Freedom glow.

Tachanoontia:
So 'gainst hoary Winter's nipping Cold,
Mayst thou ne'er Match Coat

The Indian's dress in the Winter.

want, thy Limbs t' enfold;
So from the Scorching Sun's impetuous Heat
Thy Feet conduct thee to some cool Retreat:
Begin—in Freedom's grateful Theme rejoice,—
I've my Song too—They say I have a Voice—
Tho' unharmonious to a skilful Ear,
Yet oft, when Red-Birds

A Bird of the Bigness of an English Sparrow—all over Red & Sings finely.

sing, the Raven's Croak you hear.

Ly:—
Incipe, & me fecere poetam
Pierides; sunt & mihi carmina; me quoque dicunt
Vatem Pastores
Neque adhuc vario videor nec dicere Cinna
Digna, sed argutos inter strepere anser olores

192

Gachradidow:
I will—nor shall my Song unworthy be
Of what we hold most dear, blest Liberty.
Here then, O Goddess, midst our Tribes remain;
With Us, thy faithful Race, for ever reign;

Mo:
Id quidem ago
neque est ignobile Carmen.
Hec ades, O Galatea
Hic ver purpureum &c.

Poor as we are, our wide-extended Waste,
Our Christal Streams, which yield a cool Repast,
Our lofty Forests all shall witness be,
How much we love, how greatly honour thee.
Let vile Injustice

Indeed it is reckon'd among the Indian Traders, no Crime to cheat an Indian; & yet these Wretches call themselves Christians.

& base Slav'ry sway

Insani feriant sine littora fluctus.

The Christian Plans—we neither will obey—
What Wonder that these Wretches seek our Shore,
Since Wealth, not Thee, O Freedom, they explore?
Nor wou'd they come, did not each fruitful Field
Large golden Crops of our Tobacco yield.—
—What will not Age—My Mem'ry once was strong,
And, when a Boy the live-long Day I sung;
Now I've my Lays forgot, my Voice I've lost;
—Surely my Eyes some Rattlesnake

A Serpent illegible well known; there are sev'ral odd notions about it, & this among the rest.

hath crost!

Omina fert aetas saepe ego longos
Cantando puerum memini me condere Soles.
Nunc oblita mihi tot carmina; vox quoque Moerim
Jam fugit ipsa; lupi Moerin videre priores.

Tachanoontia:
Why do you rob me of Delight so soon?
You've Time enough—As yet tis scarcely Noon.
The town's not far—Besides, the Winds are still,
Without a Murmur glides this gentle Rill;

Et nunc omne tibi stratum silet aequor, & omnes
ventosi, ceciderunt murmuris aurea

Shrill sounds you Voice along this gloomy Shade—
—Or if you're of yon low'ring Cloud, afraid,
Sing as we walk—less tedious is the Road—
Sing as we walk—I'll help to bear your Load.

tamen veniemus in urbem;
Aut si, nox pluviam ne colligat ante veremur,
Cantantes licet usque (minus via laedit) eamus;
Cantantes ut eamus, ego hoc te fasce levabo

Gachradidow:
No more—we see Shuncallamie to Night;
His Voice will give you more sincere Delight.

Mo:
Desine plura, puer
Carmina tunc melius, cum venerit ipse, canemus.

University of Virginia Library

Gachradidow

Eclogue the 9th

Argument