The book, the bosom on his knee reclin'd,
Or how sweet fairy-lore he heard her con,
(The playmate ere the teacher of her mind):
All uncompanion'd else her years had gone

Till now in Gertrude's eyes their ninth blue summer

shone.

XIII.

And summer was the tide, and sweet the hour,
When sire and daughter saw, with fleet descent,
An Indian from his bark approach their bow'r,
Of buskin'd limb, and swarthy lineament;
The red wild feathers on his brow were blent,
And bracelets bound the arm that help'd to light
A boy, who seem'd, as he beside him went,
Of Christian vesture, and complexion bright,
Led by his dusky guide like morning brought by

night.

XIV.

Yet pensive seem'd the boy for one so young,
The dimple from his polish'd cheek had fled;
When, leaning on his forest-bow unstrung,
Th' Oneyda warrior to the planter said,
And laid his hand upon the stripling's head,

• Peace be to thee! my words this belt approve;
• The paths of peace my steps have hither led:
• This little nursling, take him to thy love,

And shield the bird unfledg'd, since gone the parent dove.

XV.

• Christian! I am the foeman of thy foe;

• Our wampum league thy brethren did embrace:

• Upon the Michagan, three moons ago,

• We launch'd our quivers for the bison chace;

• And with the Hurons planted for a space,

• With true and faithful hands, the olive-stalk;

• But snakes are in the bosoms of their race,

• And though they held with us a friendly talk,

• The hollow peace-tree fell beneath their tomohawk!

XVI.

• It was encamping on the lake's far port,

• A cry of Areouski broke our sleep,

• Where storm'd an ambush'd foe thy nation's fort,

• And rapid rapid whoops came o'er the deep;

• But long thy country's war-sign on the steep

• Appear'd through ghastly intervals of light,

• And deathfully their thunders seem'd to sweep,

• Till utter darkness swallow'd up the sight,

• As if a show'r of blood had quench'd the fiery fight!

3 The Indian God of War.

XVII.

It slept it rose again-on high their tow'r • Sprung upwards like a torch to light the skies, • Then down again it rain'd an ember show'r, 'And louder lamentations heard we rise :

As when the evil Manitou that dries

• Th' Ohio woods, consumes them in his ire,

• In vain the desolated panther flies,

• And howls, amidst his wilderness of fire:

'Alas! too late, we reach'd and smote those Hurons

dire!

XVIII.

• But as the fox beneath the nobler hound,

• So died their warriors by our battle-brand;

' And from the tree we with her child unbound

• A lonely mother of the Christian land

4 Manitou, Spirit or Deity.

• Her lord-the captain of the British band

• Amidst the slaughter of his soldiers lay.

• Scarce knew the widow our deliv'ring hand;

• Upon her child she sobb'd, and swoon'd away,

• Or shriek'd unto the God to whom the Christians

pray.

XIX.

• Our virgins fed her with their kindly bowls

• Of fever-balm, and sweet sagamité;

• But she was journeying to the land of souls,

• And lifted up her dying head to pray

• That we should bid an ancient friend convey

• Her orphan to his home of England's shore;

' And take, she said, this token far away

• To one that will remember us of yore,

• When he beholds the ring that Waldegrave's Julia