Indian melodies :: :: University of Virginia Library

For me, the duck on annual wing,
Returns to hail the genial spring,
For me, the birds with eager loves
Hie gladly to their singing groves;
For me the elk of stately make
Returns to browse along the lake;
And all the tribes of every hue
Delight in life and vigour new.
I look o'er all the earth and all the skies,
And see myself the lord of nature's paradise.

The teeming earth with secret powers,
Renews her fruits, and spreads her flowers;
The grove puts on her green attire,
Along the stream the plants aspire;
The waters too, from soils below,
Smile with the lily's fragrant blow,
And sprouting rice-blades peeping through,
Where lately pass'd the light canoe.
O'er all the scene, I see a bounteous hand,
And holy nature renovates the land.

The heavens put on their mildest hue,
The skies their brightest tints of blue,
Day glitters with exceeding light,
And beauty fills the throne of night;
The moon and stars a silver glow
Shed, tremblingly, on all below;
While thunder's voice and lightning's play,
Far to the south have winged their way.
And shall my heart not bow to him alone,
Supernal Lord of nature's glorious throne?

It shall—it shall!—the seasons turn,
The sun shines out ... the planets burn,
And spring and summer softly bring
Each varied, rapid, kindly thing;
Autumn with colours clothes our woods,
And winter comes to chill the floods;
All nature tells of changes here,
Shall mortal man unchang'd appear?
Ah, no! he sickens, like the dying year,
And God himself upholds the shining sphere.

Thunder is always personified in the discourse of the North American Indians.