 | Songs and poems |  |
21
INDIAN SONGS.
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[_]
The idea which suggested the following Songs, descriptive of the tenets and manners of the North American Indians, was taken from Cooper's beautiful Romance, “The Last of the Mohicans;” in which he so ably and poetically describes the wild and simple grandeur of their savage life.
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I. THE HUNTERS.
In valleys where the white man's foot
Ne'er treads the early dew,
By mighty streams, whose waters deep
Ne'er bear his light canoe;
In wild woods, where the settler's axe
Ne'er fells the ancient tree,
There the Great Spirit wings our feet
To roam the forest free.
Ne'er treads the early dew,
By mighty streams, whose waters deep
Ne'er bear his light canoe;
In wild woods, where the settler's axe
Ne'er fells the ancient tree,
There the Great Spirit wings our feet
To roam the forest free.
When points the shadow to the west,
We string the ready bow;
Hark!—the wild stag is in the woods,
His foot is on the snow.
The deer are in the forest path,
Their speed outstrips the gale,
And through our pleasant hunting grounds
We follow on their trail.
We string the ready bow;
Hark!—the wild stag is in the woods,
His foot is on the snow.
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Their speed outstrips the gale,
And through our pleasant hunting grounds
We follow on their trail.
Far from the white man's corn and maize,
The ancient woods we roam;
The forest is the red man's ground,
The wilderness his home.
There the Good Spirit of our race,
The friendly Manitou,
Guides the red Indian's mocassin,
When bounding o'er the dew.
The ancient woods we roam;
The forest is the red man's ground,
The wilderness his home.
There the Good Spirit of our race,
The friendly Manitou,
Guides the red Indian's mocassin,
When bounding o'er the dew.
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II. THE MAIDEN PALE.
The earth is white with the falling snow,
And white is the forest tree,
And my mocassin leaves no tell-tale print,
As I come to visit thee.
O! swift is my foot on the war-path, love,
And fleet on the red deer's trail,
But swifter far when at eve I come
To visit my maiden pale.
And white is the forest tree,
And my mocassin leaves no tell-tale print,
As I come to visit thee.
O! swift is my foot on the war-path, love,
And fleet on the red deer's trail,
But swifter far when at eve I come
To visit my maiden pale.
When the sun shines from a sky serene,
It ripens the tall fruit tree;
O! maid that wast born in the sunny east,
Thy love is the sun to me!
But the sky is sad without its beam,
When bloweth the stormy gale,
And sadder my heart when I roam alone,
Afar from my maiden pale.
It ripens the tall fruit tree;
O! maid that wast born in the sunny east,
Thy love is the sun to me!
But the sky is sad without its beam,
When bloweth the stormy gale,
And sadder my heart when I roam alone,
Afar from my maiden pale.
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O! maiden that comest from distant lands,
Where setteth the morning star,
My hand is open in days of peace,
And strong in the days of war!
And I come from the wigwams of my race,
My mocassin leaves no trail,
And I bound through the woods like a startled deer,
To visit my maiden pale.
Where setteth the morning star,
My hand is open in days of peace,
And strong in the days of war!
And I come from the wigwams of my race,
My mocassin leaves no trail,
And I bound through the woods like a startled deer,
To visit my maiden pale.
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TO AN EAGLE.
O! for an eagle's wings,
To brave the rugged blast,
In spite of wind and storm to soar
O'er mount and meadow vast.
O! that I might, like thee,
O'er Alpine summits fly,
And travel, unconfined and free,
The nearest to the sky!
To brave the rugged blast,
In spite of wind and storm to soar
O'er mount and meadow vast.
O! that I might, like thee,
O'er Alpine summits fly,
And travel, unconfined and free,
The nearest to the sky!
O! that mine eye like thine
Upon the sun might gaze,
And revel in that living light,
Undazzled by the blaze!
O! that my rapid flight
O'er boundless ether driven,
Might never leave, for things of earth,
The brighter ones of heaven!
Upon the sun might gaze,
And revel in that living light,
Undazzled by the blaze!
O! that my rapid flight
O'er boundless ether driven,
Might never leave, for things of earth,
The brighter ones of heaven!
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Here, when the soul inspired
Would leave the world behind,
Forgetting its affinity
To sorrow and mankind,
With eye like thine to scan
The wonders of its birth,
Some petty care disturbs its flight,
And draws it back to earth.
Would leave the world behind,
Forgetting its affinity
To sorrow and mankind,
With eye like thine to scan
The wonders of its birth,
Some petty care disturbs its flight,
And draws it back to earth.
O! for an eagle's wings!
O, for an eagle's nest!
To dwell upon the mountain tops,
With Nature for my guest:
Fanned by the rushing wind,
Rejoicing in the blast,
And soaring in the light of morn
O'er woods and waters vast.
O, for an eagle's nest!
To dwell upon the mountain tops,
With Nature for my guest:
Fanned by the rushing wind,
Rejoicing in the blast,
And soaring in the light of morn
O'er woods and waters vast.
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