OPT 
 
 100^ 
 
COFACHIQUI 
 
 ^AND^ 
 
 OTHER POEMS, 
 
 BY X 
 CASTELLO N. HOLFOKD. 
 
 f<^ 
 
 OCT 21 1184 
 
 80LD BY L. D. HOLFORD, 
 BLOOMINGTON, WIS. 
 

 Copyrighted 1884, by C. X. Holforcl. 
 
PART I. 
 
 THE MEETING OF DE SOTO AND COFACHIQUI. 
 
 OF all the wild romances done or told, 
 When first old Europe with the New World met, 
 None had beginning brighter or more bold, 
 Or saw its sun more darkly clouded set, 
 Or of its hero's crimes and faults the debt 
 Demanded payment fuller and more dire. 
 Than that begun on Tampa's beach (while yet 
 'Twas music, sunshine, steeds, silk, steel and fire) 
 And ended low and lone in Mississippi's mire. 
 
 As fresh and pleasant was the day 
 As well might be at close of May 
 
 So near the torrid belt. 
 Fresh from the gulf the breezes blew 
 For thirty leagues the pine woods through 
 And with the odorous turpentine 
 Deep-laden stirred the blood like wine 
 
 And left the heat unfelt. 
 Near where the belt of pine woods broke 
 And merged into a greener wood 
 Of sycamore, magnolia, oak 
 And gum, an Indian village stood, 
 
COFACHIQUI. 
 
 Not many leagues above where rolled 
 Into the Chattahachi bold 
 The Tronatisca's tide, 
 With orange ocher slightly tinged, 
 Now here with wood or cane-brake fringea 
 
 And there a meadow-side. 
 Broad space about the town was seen 
 The tasseled corn-fields waving green. 
 No tepees of the bison skin, 
 As dwelt the fierce Dakotas in; 
 No lodges of the birchen bark. 
 Like those built by the Chippewas dark; 
 No squalid huts of bulrush mats, 
 Such as the Winnebago plaits, 
 
 Composed this Indian ville ; 
 But spacious houses good and high, 
 And with long grass thatched thick and dry. 
 With walls of tree-trunks peeled or dress'd, 
 Did for their builders well attest 
 
 Both industry and skill. 
 
 The ruler of this Indian town 
 Was not some warrior of renown. 
 In battle skillful, strong and bold. 
 Nor yet a wizard sage and old. 
 
 But sooth ! a maiden young. 
 The daughter of a dead cacique, 
 Through all the place in vain you'd seek 
 
 For wiser head or tongue. 
 Her graceful form of middle hight 
 At once seemed plump and airy light; 
 Her crown of thick, long, jet-black hair, 
 
COFACHIQUI. 
 
 Her eyes of depth and luster rare, 
 And many traits in that dark face 
 Were like a maid's of Jewish race.- 
 So maiden Esther might have seemed 
 When on the Persian king she beamed. 
 It was not beauty that one saw — 
 Each feature perfect, not a flaw — 
 But some expression which alone 
 Brighter than faultless beauty shone, 
 Something too vague for words to speak. 
 Which makes a woman's face unique 
 And prints it on one's memory clear, 
 To haunt his fancy many a year 
 
 And bid his pulses thrill, 
 When after, in another face. 
 Some slight resemblance he may trace 
 
 To the charm that haunts him still. 
 That such high gifts of face and mind 
 Should 'mong that simple people find 
 A lover ready to admire 
 In each young chief who dared aspire 
 
 To Cofachiqui's hand. 
 Was sure to be, and at the time 
 To which refers our opening rhyme 
 Two young cacicques, both of renown. 
 As suitor guests were in the town, 
 
 Each with attendant band. 
 
 The first was Vitachuco bold, 
 
 A high cacique whose deeds were told 
 
 In many a southern battle-song. 
 
 Full oft his arm had been proved strong. 
 
COFACHIQUI. 
 
 Upon the "Dark and Bloody Ground," 
 Against the Shawnees swarming 'round, 
 Whene'er that savage northern horde 
 Had o'er the broad Ohio poured. 
 O'er neighboring tribes his royal sway 
 Stretched far from Pensacola Bay 
 To where the swirling Tennessee 
 Breaks forth from northern mountains free. 
 
 The other chief who dared to stand 
 
 A rival for the princess' hand 
 
 Was younger, but of giant frame. 
 
 And Talladega was his name. 
 
 His father was an Indian king 
 
 Of giant size and high renown, 
 
 Who ruled o'er many a populous town ; 
 
 And Tascaluza's name did ring 
 
 From Florida's southeastern strand 
 
 Far to the Mississippi grand. 
 
 And Talladega, though yet young, 
 
 Had given the Natchez cause to dread 
 
 And quail before his war-club SAVung 
 
 Broad-sweeping 'round his towering head. 
 
 In honor of her noble guests, 
 
 And urged thereto by strong requests, 
 
 Fair Cofachiqui did proclaim 
 
 A grand match of that stirring game. 
 
 The Indians' favorite, football free, 
 
 Where all might either play or see. 
 
 Upon a meadow fair and wide. 
 
 Of all the players there, one side 
 
COFACHIQUI. 
 
 Should be by Vitachuco led, 
 
 The other* Talladega head. 
 
 The first the color green should wear 
 
 In paint on chest and plumes in hair; 
 
 The other should be marked by red 
 
 From waist-belt to the feathered head. 
 
 Among the Greens the second place 
 Held young Atcamba — manly grace 
 Combined he with a comely face. 
 Proved good in war and good in chase, 
 Good in the wrestle and the race. 
 The princess' townsman was the youth, 
 And rumor whispered that in truth 
 Of all her suitors proud and high 
 He found most favor in her eye. 
 
 At either end, to mark the bound 
 Of that long, level playing ground, 
 Three poles were placed to form a gate— 
 The rude game's passage-way of fate — 
 Bedecked with plumage brave and bright 
 And trophies of the chase and fight. 
 Half way between the boundary gat^^s 
 The crowd the opening signal waits. 
 On each side ranged in order fair. 
 The players stood in silence there— 
 To east the Ked, to west the Green- 
 Twelve paces wide was clear between. 
 In this wide opening.took his stand 
 An umpire holding in his hand 
 A huge ball filled with mosses light 
 
COFACHIQUI. 
 
 And bound with buckskin strong^and tight. 
 When ready, with a startling cry 
 Straight up he tossed the huge ball high. 
 
 Then Talledega's giant stride 
 
 Clears quickly half that opening wide, 
 
 And with his arms of matchless length 
 
 And supple hands of iron strength 
 
 Stretched far above all other grasps. 
 
 The swift-descending ball he clasps. 
 
 With instant rush both friends and foes 
 
 Impetuous 'round him densely close. 
 
 With trips and pushes, tugs and blows 
 
 The Greens that giant form assail 
 
 To overthrow, without avail. 
 
 And struggling strong in his defense. 
 
 The Eeds mix in the melee dense. 
 
 Short space they strove with clamor loud. 
 
 Till showed some opening through the crowd; 
 
 Then Vitachuco, who had eyed^ 
 
 As yet the struggling throng aside, 
 
 Leaped instant through the opening way. 
 
 And like a tiger on his prey. 
 
 All his vast force with one quick spring 
 
 Did he on Talladega fling. 
 
 When that tremendous onset came 
 
 An instant reeled that giant frame 
 
 And then came crashing to the ground 
 
 Amid the struggling mass around, 
 
 Like some lone lighthouse whose tall form 
 
 Long has defied the raging storm, 
 
 Till iron thews and ribs of rock 
 
COFACHIQUI. 
 
 Give way to the resistless shock, 
 AVhen on it full the cyclone raves 
 In utmost wrath of winds and waves. 
 
 But Talladega, as he fell, 
 Flung off the ball, and aimed so well. 
 Though in such strait, and cast so strong, 
 It flew beyond the struggling throng 
 To where a Ked had ta'en his stand. 
 This caught the ball with skillful hand 
 And for the green goal 'gan a race, 
 While many a Green gave instant chase. 
 But as the hostile goal he neared, 
 A keeper of the gate appeared 
 And on the weary runner came 
 Like the fresh hound on tired game. 
 The Red, to meet this danger near. 
 Was forced from his straight course to sheer 
 And losing way, quick from the rear 
 Three Greens at once upon him clenched 
 And from his grasp the huge ball wrenched. 
 Quick toward the red goal they began 
 Their flight, but quickly as they ran 
 About them closed with clamor loud 
 Of Red and Green r mingled crowd. 
 
 Then higher still the turmoil rose; 
 With yells and leaps and kicks and blows 
 
 Strove every frantic one. 
 The plumage v/hich so gay had tossed 
 Now vanished quickly like white frost 
 
 Before the morning sun. 
 
10 COFACHIQUI. 
 
 Blood flowed from many a swollen limb, 
 Each face with sweat and dust was grim, 
 On each broad chest the paint that gleamed 
 Was furrowed thick with sweat that streamed; 
 
 Showed Vitachuco in the throng 
 
 A player agile, skilled and strong; 
 
 And Talladega's giant stride 
 
 Broke through the turmoil far and wide. 
 
 His long arms griped and headlong tossed 
 
 Th' opposing Greens whose way he crossed. 
 
 But inch by inch the "Reds did yield, 
 
 And toward the middle of the field 
 
 Back, slowly back, the ball was urged, 
 
 And there the contest doubtful surged. 
 
 At last, with one decisive kick, 
 
 Which mingled fortune, skill and trick, 
 
 Did Yitachuco spurn the ball. 
 
 It flew high o'er the heads of all, 
 
 Aad qaick of limb and keen of eye, 
 
 Atcamba caught it on the fly. 
 
 As the great rabbit of the West 
 
 Darts through the sage when hotly pressed. 
 
 So with the ball Atcamba sped 
 
 Right toward the goal kept by the Bed. 
 
 A goalman red sprang forth to meet 
 And grapple with the runner fleet; 
 But swerving swift as swallows sw^eep, 
 Atcamba, with one nimble leap, 
 Apast the baffled goalman flashed 
 And onward for the red gate dashed. 
 
COFACHIQUI. 11 
 
 Forth instant sprang five goalmen red, 
 Alert and swift, with hands outspread 
 To form a line through which must break 
 Atcamba, if the goal he 'd make. 
 Too long the line to pass around, 
 Through it he scarce might hope to bound. 
 To the goal 'twas three score paces yet 
 When those stretched arms Atcamba met. 
 Like lightning back his arm he drew 
 And hurled the ball with aim so true 
 And with such unexpected force 
 That with high curve it struck the ground 
 So near the gate that in its course 
 It passed with thrice repeated bound 
 Quite through the now unguarded gate, 
 Deciding thus the hot game's fate. 
 
 Up quickly came the surging crowd, 
 One party filled with triumph proud. 
 The other stung with fierce chagrin 
 Almost intolerably keen. 
 So hot their blood, so deeply stirred 
 Their spirits, that a taunting word 
 Might well have signaled bloody strife 
 And cost full many a brave his life, 
 But that before the game began 
 Strictly disarmed was every man. 
 
 Ere this excitement was allayed, 
 A messenger arrived and said 
 That thither marched in rapid course 
 A strange if not a hostile force; 
 
12 COFACHIQUI. 
 
 Strange beasts they rode, strange dress they 
 
 wore, 
 And stranger still the arms they bore. 
 Each chief well knew the courier told 
 Of Soto and the Spaniards bold, 
 Who'd ten days since come sweeping down 
 Upon a neighboring chieftain's tow-n. 
 Whose warriors some resistance made. 
 But quailed before a fusilade 
 That seemed to them the fatal flash 
 Of lightning and the thunder's crash. 
 Then, when resistance vain did cease, 
 The strangers sat them dowai in peace. 
 
 Such news Tascambia had heard 
 In w^onder vague, but now was stirred 
 To tumult every heart in town. 
 From princess, chief and warrior down. 
 At thought of meeting face to face 
 These warriors of an unknown race. 
 And then the question quickly rose, 
 "Meet we these men as friends or foes?" 
 M(^st deemed it vain and rash to fight- 
 As gods they held the strangers white. 
 For war was Yitachuco's voice 
 And such was Talladega's choice. 
 Both burning in their princess' sight 
 To show their prowess in the fight. 
 But Cofachiqui's gentle heart 
 Impelled her to the peaceful part, 
 And her good sense bade her refrain 
 From strife disastrous, bloodshed vain. 
 
COFACHIQUI. 13 
 
 Her gentle words to silence quelled 
 
 The spirit fierce and proud which swelled 
 
 Bold Vitachuco's heart with ire 
 
 And blazed in Talladega's eyes like fire. 
 
 A quiet deep then settled down 
 
 Ui^on the lately clamorous town. 
 
 From child and squaw to chief and brave, 
 
 With eager hearts but faces grave, 
 
 AVith wondering minds but lips all dumb, 
 
 The Indians waited till should come 
 
 Their visitors with faces fair 
 
 Who bore the lightnings of the air. 
 
 Into the woods no Indian scout 
 
 To watch the strangers ventured out. 
 
 Thus in suspense the long hours passed; 
 Upon their waiting ears at last 
 Came suddenly a bugle's blast; 
 A peal of martial music broke 
 From the dark woods of gum and oak 
 That rose a bowshot's space or more 
 Beyond the river's farther shore. 
 Soon as they heard the warning blast 
 The Indians thronged the bank full fast, 
 i\.nd, gazing o'er the stream, they saw 
 A scene of wonder and of awe. 
 
 Forth from the greenwood's sounding aisles 
 Emerged the Spaniards' glittering files. 
 A score of horsemen first advanced — 
 Their guidons streamed, their horses pranced; 
 
14 COFACHIQUI. 
 
 Like lightning flashed each polished sword; 
 
 And then the musketeers outpoured. 
 
 Behind the swarming musketeers 
 
 Rode out three hundred cavaliers. 
 
 With sash and plume each knight was gay, 
 
 With silk and steel gleamed their array. 
 
 With jingling spurs and scabbards' clank 
 
 They swept around the footmen's flanks, 
 
 And nearer toward the river bank 
 
 They formed their long and brilliant ranks; 
 
 And as the low, unclouded sun 
 
 Shone full on breast-plate, sword and gun. 
 
 The polished steel intensely gleamed. 
 
 Above it silken banners streamed. 
 
 A space the Spaniards silent stood 
 
 As at their backs the dark-green wood; 
 
 Then from the line of muskets broke 
 
 A sudden fringe of flame and smoke; 
 
 Rang out the bugles' brazen throats, 
 
 The drums pealed thick their thrilling notes. 
 
 Forth from the ranks De Soto rode — 
 
 Fast by each side a footman strode. 
 
 From golden spurs to helmet bright 
 
 De Soto seemed the perfect knight. 
 
 And port and presence well became 
 
 The bold adventurer's world-wide fame. 
 
 His form showed litheness, strength and grace, 
 
 His pleasant, frank and manly face 
 
 (Albeit somewhat grave and cold) 
 
 Was shaded by a mustache bold 
 
 Turned backward with majestic sweep — 
 
COFACHIQUI. • 15 
 
 Its hue, once glossy black and deep, 
 Now flecked with many a silver hair, 
 But less from age than toil and care. 
 
 The Spaniard at De Soto's side, 
 
 Juan Ortiz, a soldier tried, 
 
 Was shipwrecked many a year before 
 
 And cast on Florida's wild shore. 
 
 He 'd sojourned long the Indians 'mong 
 
 And well had learned their uncouth tongue. 
 
 At Soto's other hand 
 An Indian brought from Tampa's beach 
 Who knew full well the differing speech 
 
 Of this interior land. 
 
 The river's edge De Soto gained. 
 Nor there his prancing horse he reined, 
 
 But in the river dashed. 
 Although the stream was swift and wide. 
 The footmen struggled at his side — 
 
 Their belts the waters plashed. 
 Soon on the other side they stood, 
 And Soto then, as best he could, 
 Made signs of friendship to the throng 
 Of Indians that stretched along 
 
 A stone's throw from the stream 
 And with admiring fear and awe 
 The Spaniards' brilliant pageant saw 
 
 As specters in a dream. 
 
 At Soto's sign the royal maid 
 Advanced to meet him — not afraid. 
 
16 COFACHIQUI. 
 
 Too proud and brave was she to fear 
 E'en beings from another sphere. 
 On this side Vitachuco walked, 
 On that tall Talladega stalked; 
 Behind the three Atcamba came — 
 Too modest other place to claim. 
 
 As Cofachiqui near him drew, 
 
 Full well her rank De Soto knew. 
 
 Down from his horse he lightly sprang 
 
 And on the ground his helmet rang. 
 
 Ne'er courtier to his queen displayed 
 
 A finer courtesy and grace 
 
 Than Soto to this Indian maid 
 
 With untaught mind and nut-brown face. 
 
 And not the Spaniard's grace alone 
 
 By manner or by speech was shown; 
 
 He placed in Cofachiqui' s hand 
 
 Gifts that she deemed from fairy land: 
 
 A tiny bell, a mirror bright 
 
 And sparkling bead work red and white. 
 
 Right well the artless Indian maid. 
 Each gracious word and gift repaid. 
 She welcome gave with accents sweet 
 And for a counter present meet 
 Untwined from 'round her jet-black hair 
 A string of pearls, pure large and rare. 
 Which might a queenly crown have graced. 
 The string 'round Soto's neck was placed 
 As to the little maid low bowed 
 The Spaniard's head so high and proud. 
 
COFACHIQUI. 17 
 
 And then De Soto turned his gaze 
 With genial, free and flattering phrase 
 Upon the chieftains who in pride 
 Stood mute the gentle maid beside; 
 And soon his compliments did chase 
 The gloom from each vindictive face; 
 And while his praises oped each heart, 
 He careless spoke with covert art 
 Of his condition proud and high 
 As one descendant from the sky; 
 Said his complexion strange and white 
 Was birthright from that source of light 
 Which gleamed upon his armor bright. 
 The powers that armed the thunder's crash 
 And reddened in the lightning's flash 
 Were his; but as the powers of air 
 Were seldom fierce and often fair, 
 And like the sun benign and bright, 
 He too would rather smile than smite. 
 
 The Indians soon were friends as free 
 As with such guest they well dare be. 
 And Cofachiqui did install 
 De Soto in her fairest hall 
 Where for his sojourn he might rest 
 With honors like a royal guest. 
 His soldiers, who had crossed the tide 
 And bivouacked by the river side, 
 With food were lavishly supplied. 
 And for their horses grass and maize 
 Were brought by those who staid to gaze 
 AVith admiration and good-will. 
 
18 COFACHIQUI. 
 
 But mixed with awe and shyness still, 
 Upon the guests who did appear 
 As beings from another sphere. 
 
 When next the morning mists uprolled 
 
 The. chieftains, Vitachuco bold 
 
 And giant Talladega too. 
 
 From out Tascambia withdrew 
 
 And by a straight trail each returned 
 
 To where his people's lodge-fires burned. 
 
 In secret both were ill at ease, 
 
 Despite De Soto's care to please. 
 
 Though still was kind their princess' look, 
 
 They could not such a rival brook. 
 
 And to retire they thought it best 
 
 And come again another day, 
 
 What time the unexpected guest 
 
 Would be, they trusted, far away. 
 
 Days passed and still De Soto staid; 
 
 But woe unto the royal maid ! 
 
 The flower of courtesy so bright 
 
 That erst had graced the gallant knight 
 
 Quite withered in the baleful light 
 
 Of gold, as might the rose-wreath scorch 
 
 In pitchy flame of pine-knot torch. 
 
 The Spaniard's greed some trinkets fired 
 
 And for more gold he strait inquired. 
 
 He wrongly thought that millions more 
 
 In secret somewhere lay in store. 
 
 His unsuspecting hostess kind 
 
 Was to her house by guard confined 
 
COFACHIQUI. 19 
 
 And Soto all her people gave 
 To know that henceforth for his slave 
 Their well loved, princess he would hold 
 Save for her weight in ransom gold. 
 
 A 
 
 P A K T 1 1. 
 
 THE BATTLE OF THE LAKE. 
 
 N oft repeated story — the vain clash 
 
 Of rude, barbaric arms 'gainst Latin mail, 
 Of hosts unnumbered, brave, untaught and rash. 
 Whose onsets fierce and stubborn efforts fail 
 While steadier skill and deadlier arms prevail. 
 'Gainst giant Teutons firm the Legions stand, 
 Bide the wild onset, like tornade and hail, 
 Of fiery Gauls; and Cortez' little band 
 Plunge through the sea-like hosts of Montezuma's land. 
 
 At Vitachuco's capital, 
 Within a high and spacious hall. 
 Hewn from the trunks of cypress wood 
 And roofed with grass mats many hued, 
 
 The Spanish leader sate 
 At noon-day meal. Among the rest 
 Who 'round De Soto's table pressed, 
 Rose Vitachuco's haughty crest. 
 
 With pearls and plumes ornate. 
 
 That proud cacique, whose lightest word 
 His myriad braves with reverence heard, 
 Had with De Soto treaty made 
 
20 COFACHIQUI. 
 
 And purchased peace with tribute paid 
 
 Of food for horse and man. 
 But long did he did he negotiate 
 Before he bowed his pride and hate 
 And curbed his hot revenge to wait 
 The working of his plan. 
 
 With Soto master in his hall. 
 While he was there at Soto's call, 
 And with the Spanish fetters still 
 On his loved princess, he could ill 
 
 His rage subdue or hide. 
 Though hard and constant was the task, 
 He hid his hate 'neath friendship's mask, 
 And all that Soto well could ask 
 
 He lavishly suppled; 
 
 But secretly sent couriers ten. 
 All warriors tried and wily men. 
 To muster up his warriors all 
 And on fierce Tascaluza call 
 
 For braves three thousand more. 
 He bade his warriors all repair 
 To Allagarda, as though there 
 They came to bring for Spanish fare 
 
 Of grain and meat great store; 
 
 But leave their bows and Avar-clubs hid 
 In lines the tall, rank grass amid, 
 That waved on Allagarda' s plain 
 Like billows on the heaving main. 
 And at the hour of noon 
 
COFACHIQUI. 21 
 
 To muster promptly on that field 
 In ranks behind their arms concealed, 
 And be their yell of battle pealed 
 And weapons grasped, as soon, 
 
 As they before them should espy 
 
 Their chief taints 'broidered belt waved high; 
 
 Then on their foes like panthers leap. 
 
 Or as the black tornadoes sweep 
 
 Upon the Indian Isles. 
 But when was deepest Indian plot 
 Against the white men ever brought, 
 And fatal treachery did not 
 
 Expose the deep-laid wiles? 
 
 One of their couriers, in dread 
 That Spanish vengeance on his head, 
 For part he 'd taken in the plot, 
 Would fall, if failure were its lot. 
 
 Like lightning on the oak. 
 And lest the plot, if not his own. 
 Some other traitor tongue had shown. 
 The details of the scheme made known — 
 
 Thus was the secret broke. 
 
 He thought that squadron's charge and wheel, 
 Those iron hearts and brands of steel. 
 Would rend his warriors' myriad hem, 
 And no avail were stratagem 
 Against their vigilance. 
 Shrewdly the traitor thought, and so 
 The plot goes on with naught to show 
 
22 COFACHIQUI. 
 
 To the cacique the Spaniards know 
 While feigning ignorance. 
 
 "Brave Spaniard," Vitachuco said, 
 "Through many lands thy band thou'st led. 
 And much of war's array, I ween, 
 And of its splendor thou hast seen; 
 
 And wilt thou care to gaze 
 Awhile upon what e'er array 
 My unskilled braves in their poor way 
 Shall in thine honor make to-day — 
 
 Look while thou canst not praise? 
 
 "No steeds shall prance, no blades shall flash, 
 No banners wave, no armor clash. 
 No thunders roar, no trumpets ring, 
 As when the hosts of thy great king, 
 
 As I have heard thee say. 
 Go forth against their Paynim foes — 
 Not e'en shall war-clubs, spears or bows. 
 Or arms at all be borne by those 
 Whom thou shalt see to-day. 
 
 They are my people who are here 
 
 To bring supplies for thee; and near 
 
 Us lies a level space and free. 
 
 Where all the long lines thou canst see — 
 
 This is their muster ground. 
 Like panthers they, with muzzled jaws 
 And strong, lithe limbs bereft of claws, 
 Whose agile movements win applause 
 
 From hunters gathered 'round. 
 
COFACHIQUI. 23 
 
 Is this, Cacique, then, all thy plot? 
 It has without a single thought 
 Of Soto's vigilance been made. 
 E'en though it had not been betrayed, 
 
 Sure, it were vain and weak 
 To think that leader shrewd would go 
 Alone to face a myriad, though 
 Told it was but an unarmed show — 
 
 Told by their own cacique. 
 
 "Thanks, brave Cacique," De Soto said, 
 "I'll gladly look on your parade; 
 My soldiers too will gladly see 
 This pageant — they shall go with me; 
 
 And as a slight return 
 Made for thy gracious courtesy. 
 Thou 'It see the sweep of cavalry; • 
 The volleyed flash of musketry 
 
 In mimic fight shall burn. 
 
 "But ill, I fear, will be repaid 
 
 The courtesy of your parade; 
 
 For 'gainst the hosts of your broad land 
 
 The thin ranks of my scanty band 
 
 Will make but poor array. 
 But true is every sword and heart. 
 Each man well knows the soldier's art. 
 And Spanish soldiers nevei' part 
 
 From weapons, night nor day." 
 
 One moment doubt and quick dismay 
 The chieftain's mind held in their sway. 
 
24 COFACHIQUI. 
 
 And 'countering De Soto's gaze, 
 
 A moment quailed his black eyes' blaze 
 
 Beneath that deep, stern look. 
 But then his native hardihood 
 That moment's panic soon withstood; 
 His face resumed its calm, stern mood, 
 
 Again the word he took. 
 
 As when the hunter's bark is drawn 
 Down through the narrow, dark canon 
 By the swift current's mighty sweep, 
 Hemmed in by high walls rising steep, 
 
 He 'gainst the current strives 
 No more, but turns adown the tide 
 And boldly trusts his skill to guide 
 His bark from jagged rocks aside. 
 
 And on through dangers drives; 
 
 So did the chief the peril meet; 
 He hoped no longer to retreat, 
 Or take the Spaniards unaware, 
 And he resolved their might to dare 
 
 In open, desperate fight. 
 The meal is done; the Spanish train 
 Is formed anon, and soon they gain. 
 Near by the town, the open plain. 
 
 With bloom and verdure bright. 
 
 On this side lies a little lake 
 Whose wavelets 'mong the lilies break 
 On its low shore, while far around 
 Stretch wooded hills the plain to bound; 
 
COFACHIQUI. 25 
 
 The intervening space 
 From reedy lake to mountain wood 
 For half a league showed fair and good; 
 And here a dusky myriad stood 
 
 As though in battle x:)lace. 
 
 But weapons none in hand they bore, 
 Nor at their belts or backs they wore, 
 Yet each one there was warrior right; 
 With lofty plumes each crest was bright 
 
 Above the dark, stern face. 
 How soon at Yitachuco's sign. 
 Along that still and unarmed line. 
 Stout bows shall bend and spears incline 
 
 And brandish many a mace. 
 
 The Spaniards come. Before them stride 
 The chief and Soto side by side. 
 The Spaniards halt; and nBw the dark 
 Cacique has loosed his belt; but hark V 
 
 A musket shot rings clear ! 
 Quick at that musket's signal sound 
 Ten sturdy soldiers at a bound 
 Th' amazed, betraj^ed cacique surround 
 
 And hurl him to the rear. 
 
 The Indian ranks a moment wait. 
 Astounded by their leader's fate; 
 Then, with a startling battle cry 
 Which seems to rend the very sky, 
 
 They grasp their arms concealed. 
 De Soto on his charger springs, 
 
26 COFACHIQUI. 
 
 High o'er liis head his saber swings, 
 And "Charge ! my men," his loud voice rings, 
 "And hurl them from the field !" 
 
 His spurs are in his horse's flanks; 
 He dashes on the Indian ranks; 
 Before him rears a ridge of spears; 
 A thousand bowmen to their ears 
 
 Draw back the straining strings. 
 A thousand feathered shafts are sped; 
 De Soto's horse, the Indians' dread. 
 Pierced by ten arrows, floundering dead, 
 
 To earth his rider flings. 
 
 So near his foes, in deadly plight 
 
 A moment seems the unhorsed knight. 
 
 But as he nimbly gains his feet 
 
 And grasps his sword his foes to meet. 
 
 His comrades past him go. 
 On the three hundred horsemen dash 
 And high three hundred sabers flash; 
 Down through the tall, bright plumes they crash 
 
 And through the heads below. 
 
 And quickly as they rise again 
 They dimly gleam through blood, as when 
 The carbine's flash red through the smoke 
 Is seen; at each successive stroke? 
 
 More redly dim the steel. 
 As through the Indian ranks they rush, 
 The fiery horses 'neath them crush 
 The natives, and a crimson flush 
 
COFACHIQUI. 27 
 
 Soon dyes each iron heel. 
 
 But while the horsemen's bloody swords 
 Rage through the right wing's dusky hordes, 
 The deep ranks of the long left wing 
 Around the slower footmen swing 
 
 With a shrill battle scream. 
 But, as their swarming foes advance. 
 The close-ranked footmen keep their stance 
 And fast their arquebuses glance 
 
 And their keen halberds gleam. 
 
 The horsemen's sabers rise and fall 
 To frantic shout and bugle call 
 High swells the muskets' rattling roar, 
 The clattering drums their wild notes pour. 
 Swords clash and cymbals clang; 
 Flint spears are hurled with vengeful throw; 
 Around them hiss like driving snow 
 The volleyed shafts that many a bow 
 Sends forth with spiteful twang. 
 
 'Neath them the Spanish armor rung, 
 And like a maddened hornet stung, 
 At times, a keen and flinty point 
 That chanced to strike a loosened joint 
 
 Or place devoid of mail. 
 The heavy war-clubs downward swung 
 Upon the bright steel helmets rung 
 Dull, like a bell with muffled tongue 
 
 Tolled by the passing gale. 
 
 But war-clubs' blows and archers' rain 
 
28 coFAcniQui. 
 
 And savage valor all were vain: 
 The sweeping saber's fearful clash, 
 The arquebuse's fatal flash, 
 
 Such dreadful havoc made 
 Among the dense, disordered throng 
 That late had marched ten thousand strong 
 In savage pomp and pride along, 
 
 In paint and plumes arrayed. 
 
 The strange and dreadful Spanish arms 
 And horses filled them with alarms; 
 But long before they turned and fled 
 The battle plain was strewn with dead 
 
 And slippery with their gore; 
 And ere they reached the mountain wood 
 Which near the field of battle stood. 
 The bloody sabers that pursued 
 
 Cut down full many more. 
 
 Nine hundred men, a chosen band, 
 The best and bravest of the land. 
 Were not among the fleeing horde. 
 AVhen parted by the horse and sword 
 
 They rallied soon again. 
 As waters which the rushing prow 
 Divides unite again, and now. 
 Though all seemed lost, they thought but how 
 
 The fight to still sustain. 
 
 Pressed back by the returning tide 
 Of Spaniards to the deep lake's side, 
 Which, at a spear's length from the shore, 
 
COFACHIQUI. 29 
 
 Attained a fathom's depth or more, 
 
 They plunged undaunted in, 
 And swam a bow-shot from the beach, 
 Where, far beyond the saber's reach 
 And trampling hoofs, they turned each, 
 
 A new fight to begin. 
 
 They formed together, four and four, 
 In living platforms which upbore 
 Each one a fifth, a brave who drew 
 His string unwet, and strong and true 
 
 His arrows flew to shore. 
 And well for them — that Spanish throng 
 That stretched the water's marge along — 
 'Gainst those unerring shafts and strong. 
 
 That they steel doublets wore. 
 
 Sometimes the keen, barbed points, e'en then. 
 Struck down the strong and mail-clad men; 
 But still the escopetas rang 
 And still the deadly bullets sang, 
 
 And archers dropped their bows 
 And from their comrades' shoulders fell, 
 With stifled groan or dying yell 
 And blood-wreaths curdling red to tell 
 
 Where the waters o'er them close. 
 
 And still, until the day was gone, 
 The desultory strife went on. 
 And still the braves made 'gainst their fate 
 Kesistance hopeless, desperate, 
 And strongly still upbore. 
 
30 COFACHIQUI. 
 
 Unheeded as the musket ball 
 The Spaniards' oft repeated call, 
 Proclaiming truce to each and all 
 Who 'd come in peace to shore. 
 
 'Tis night; the evening star has set, 
 And all the down-trod grass is wet 
 With tears of dew that weep the blue, 
 Unclouded skies from starry eyes 
 
 O'er many a Avarrior prone. 
 No cries come from that battle plain ; 
 The wounded, silent as the slain. 
 With bodies gored and racked with pain, 
 
 Disdain to make a moan. 
 
 And still around the little lake 
 The Spaniards did a circle make. 
 And yet, at times, upon the night 
 Leaped forth the Hashing musket's light- 
 
 The swimmers yet held out. 
 But long their bows had been unbent 
 And every sheaf of arrows spent; 
 To swimming all their eiforts went, 
 
 Though skilled their arms and stout. 
 
 The morning sun has mounted high 
 Into the clear blue summer sky. 
 And one by one those wretched braves 
 Have sunk into their watery graves 
 
 Or captives come to land. 
 But seven, with courage high imbued, 
 Sustained by matchless fortitude 
 
COFACHIQUI. 31 
 
 And great endurance, unsubdued, 
 Still ply the weary hand. 
 
 Seven steel coats clang upon the ground. 
 Seven Spaniards in the water bound, 
 Strong men and skillful swimmers each ; 
 The worn-out Indians soon they reach 
 
 And drag them to the shore. 
 Awhile they lie, nor move nor speak, 
 Till one replies in accents weak 
 To Soto's question, "AVhy, Cacique, 
 
 Did you not yield before?" 
 
 "Our sovereign Yitachuco's hand 
 Has favored us with high command 
 Above his bravest, and this trust, 
 The token of his favor, must 
 
 Be kept unbroken, though 
 To keep it might (it did) require 
 That we should in yon lake expire, 
 Or even die the death of fire 
 
 And torture lingering slow. 
 
 "And why do you degrade us, then? 
 Nor let us die like braves and men? 
 We should have perished in yon lake, 
 Still fighting for his royal sake 
 
 Who made us what we were. 
 That we surrender to his foes. 
 E'en though with arms too weak for blows, 
 Is deepest of disgrace and woes 
 
 A warrior mav incur." 
 
 9 
 
32 COFACHIQUI. 
 
 " T were shame to chivalry did I 
 Fail to admire your courage high, 
 Your fortitude and constancy," 
 Said Soto, " and your loyalty. 
 
 Misplaced e'en though it be. 
 The freedom justly lost by ^ou 
 As forfeit of rebellion due, 
 I grant again to heroes true — 
 
 In honor go ye free. 
 
 Th' enthusiastic Spaniards each 
 Approve with warmth De Soto's speech; 
 But sadly and with humbled look 
 The boon of life and freedom took 
 
 Those chiefs, so proud before. 
 Though free their limbs from captives' ban 
 From menial service free their hands. 
 Yet, held at grant of Spanish brands. 
 
 The gift small value bore. 
 
 Days passed, and the cacique once more 
 At Soto's board sat as before 
 And pledged his broken faith anew 
 To Soto, who had feigned to view 
 
 His lapse with lenient eye. 
 But all the captives of the lake. 
 Save seven, was Soto pleased to take. 
 And of them slaves a time to make — 
 
 Slaves ! with such spirits high ! 
 
 As safe behind the bars that keep 
 The tiger may the keeper sleep; 
 
COFACHIQUI. 33 
 
 As safely in the magazine 
 
 May lamps be lit and fire be seen, 
 
 As Soto's soldiers may 
 Live thus among a horde of slaves 
 Revengeful as those fiery braves, 
 Untamable as wild sea waves, 
 
 Save 'neath their chiefiain's sway. 
 
 And the cacique as calmly bore 
 Himself, and proud, as when before 
 He sat among the cavaliers, 
 And by their hidden bows and spears 
 
 His myriad formed array. 
 Up suddenly the Indian sprang 
 And wild and high his war-cry rang ! 
 Ee-echoed like a cymbal's clang 
 
 The hills a mile away. 
 
 One leap — he gained De Soto's side; 
 With all the force that hate supplied, 
 Full on those bearded lips he hurled, 
 From that strong arm that oft had whirled 
 
 The six-foot club, a blow. 
 Down Soto sank that blow beneath, 
 Down senseless, with his sword in sheath; 
 From mangled lips and shattered teeth 
 
 Gushed out the crimson flow. 
 
 Up sprang the cavaliers about ; 
 A dozen ready swords leaped out. 
 On the cacique with whirl and flash, 
 On head and limb, with thrust and slash, 
 
34 COFACHIQUI. 
 
 The swords came, many a one. 
 Like pine tree 'neath the axman's blows, 
 He reeled and sank among his foes. 
 He struggling fell, but never rose — 
 
 Life's fierce career was run. 
 
 When Vitachuco with that yell 
 
 So tiger-like on Soto fell. 
 
 All the red slaves who owued him chief 
 
 Koused fiercely in one moment brief 
 
 And sprang upon their lords. 
 Not theirs to pour the archer rain 
 And level lines of spears again. 
 As erst on Allagarda's plain — 
 
 Not these their lot affords. 
 
 Some, desperate, struck with naked hands, 
 With fagots some and blazing brands 
 And stones; but oh ! how vain and weak 
 Were these their deep revenge to wreak 
 
 Where battle line had failed. 
 But with the courage of despair 
 They met the swords with hands all bare, 
 And none of all those mad slaves there 
 
 From sure destruction quailed. 
 
 More prompt their certain doom had been 
 To fall beneath the sabers keen. 
 But that the Spaniards proud awhile 
 Disdained their bright swords to defile 
 
 In the blood of unarmed slaves. 
 But those whom spared the cavaliers 
 
COFACHIQUI. 35 
 
 Died by the red allies flint spears 
 
 Or volleys from the musketeers— 
 
 They all found bloody graves. 
 
 PART III. 
 
 THE GOLD-HUNTERS. 
 
 WHAT deeds, Avhat crimes have men not done 
 for gold? 
 We read them in the records of to-day, 
 Yet damp, and in that chronicle of old, 
 Which tells how Israel's children turned away 
 From God — the blazing mount forgot — to pray 
 To the dumb golden idol they had made 
 Of gems once worn by Egypt's daughters gay; 
 And Babylon's golden god, its homage paid 
 By all who of the fiery furnace were afraid. 
 
 And often since have golden gods been placed 
 
 Before the heart with fierce devotion fired, 
 
 Till, all God's image from that heart erased. 
 
 It seemed by fiercest fiends to be inspired. 
 
 Unawed by dangers, by fatigues untired. 
 
 For love of gold men dared the desert graves. 
 
 Pressed on with energy to be admired; 
 
 'Mid barren mountains toiling like black slaves, 
 
 They founded mighty states far by the western waves. 
 
 Vitachuco's wounds still bled. 
 Fresh and free, their currents red, 
 When an Indian courier sped 
 Straight as bees do homeward fly, 
 
36 COFACHIQUI. 
 
 To the camp of the ally. 
 When he scarce three leagues had gone, 
 Sped the news another on. 
 Messengers so deet and true 
 Onward with the tidings flew, 
 Which at noon had left the town, 
 That, when evening shades came down, 
 Thirteen leagues tJieir flight had i^assed. 
 
 Came the messenger at last 
 To a camp where bj^ the firo 
 Talladega and his sire 
 AVaited tidings of the foe — 
 Waited hopefully to know 
 What of Vitachuco's plot. 
 If that fiery chief had wrought 
 Vengeance on De Soto's head. 
 Ruin on the Spaniards dread. 
 When that chieftain's call was made 
 For three thousand warriors' aid, 
 To his aid three thousand went. 
 Prompt by Tascaluza sent. 
 They returned a scattered horde, 
 Fled from Spanish horse and sword. 
 
 Now again disastrous word 
 
 Tascaluza wrathful heard: 
 
 How that brave and fierce cacique 
 
 Fell in last attempt to wreak 
 
 Retribution dire and due 
 
 On De Soto's robber crew. 
 
 Broken was that colleague's power, 
 
COFACIIIQUI. 37 
 
 Slain with him his army's flower, 
 Braves enslaved or, leaderless, 
 Scattered in the wilderness — 
 Lost his cause beyond redress. 
 
 Cofachiqui still a slave 
 Languished, said the courier brave. 
 Talladega wrathful heard, 
 But still to his sire deferred — 
 Tascaluza took the word: 
 " Cofachiqui, say est thou, 
 Wears the Spanish fetters now? 
 Feeble were the hawk's wings, weak 
 Were his talons and his beak ! 
 Spite of his attack -so bold, 
 Still the vulture keeps his hold 
 On the dove, and still shall keep 
 Till the mighty eagle's sweep 
 Drives the filthy tyrant far. 
 On the dead once more to war — 
 Ne'er upon fair forms of life 
 More to wage rapacious strife." 
 
 "Well hast thou thy likeness wrought," 
 
 Yitachuco's courier thought 
 
 Angrily, but spoke no word; 
 
 " Small the odds to that poor bird, 
 
 AVere she in the vulture's craw, 
 
 Or the savage eagle's claw." 
 
 "Nay, great chief," outspoke he then, 
 
 " Thou hast wronged my master. When 
 
 Did the cruel hawk, from love, 
 
38 COFACHIQUI. 
 
 E'er attempt to save the dove? 
 Bather say the timid doe 
 Fell beneath the cougar's blow, 
 And the buck that for her fought 
 On himself the monster brought, 
 Brought the strong and fang-set jaws 
 And the long and deadly claws. 
 Bravely perished he, but how 
 Vainly ! Whence is rescue now?" 
 
 Shaking fiercely his head, 
 
 Tascaluza answering said: 
 
 " Soon the cougar shall .be torn 
 
 By the mighty bison's horn; 
 
 Trampled 'neath his hoofs shall lie; 
 
 Thus that beast of prey shall die." 
 
 Then he some brief orders gave 
 
 And there came to him a brave 
 
 Bearing two large eagle quills. 
 
 What is that which, shining, fills 
 
 Those translucent tubes? 'T is gold. 
 
 Dust and scales minute they hold; 
 
 Brought from where 'mid northern mountains 
 
 Rise the Chattahachi's fountains. 
 
 Some barbaric ornament 
 
 To make of it was the intent. 
 
 Speaking to a courier fleet, 
 (Whom he called) brave and discreet. 
 He disclosed a plan which might 
 Lure the Spaniards avaricious, 
 Searching for the metal bright, 
 
COFACHIQUI. 39 
 
 Into ambuscade auspicious, 
 Where surjDrise and quick assail 
 Might those dread arms countervail. 
 
 Tascaluza's explanation 
 Ended with this exhortation : 
 " Now, then, by the break of day 
 Gain the Spanish camp. Away !" 
 Twilight tints shone faintly still 
 Far adown the western sky 
 When the chieftain spoke his will. 
 All the messenger's reply 
 Was to take those eagle quills; 
 Over rivers, vales and hills 
 All the long night they were borne, 
 And the twilight of the morn. 
 Gleaming on the grass blades damp, 
 Saw them in the Spanish camp. 
 
 Soto, at that morn's repast, 
 Gladdened at the tale 't was told 
 By a servant who at last 
 Brought him news of real gold. 
 As the maize bread Soto broke, 
 Thus the dusky servant spoke: 
 " I have known that thou hast sought 
 Far and wide for yellow ore, 
 And that many times before 
 Yellow stuff to thee was brought 
 Which thou seemedst to value not. 
 I have something different quite 
 From all else that's met thy sight, 
 
40 COFACHIQUI. 
 
 Yellow, sparkling, pure and bright. 
 Thinking 't is the ore you seek, 
 I have thus presumed to speak. 
 And I hold the metal still. 
 Subject to the white chief's will." 
 
 "Let me see it," Soto cried, 
 
 As he threw the bread aside. 
 
 Forth the yellow dust was brought. 
 
 Safely in each little case. 
 
 " This indeed 's the ore I sought," 
 
 Cried the Spaniard, with his face 
 
 Gleaming brighter than the ore 
 
 He had poured into his hand. 
 
 " It is gold ! and is there more, 
 
 Is there plenty in that land 
 
 Whence this came?" "Oh, yes; there's much," 
 
 Said the crafty brave, "of such. 
 
 Far off toward the the setting sun, 
 
 In the streams which rippling run. 
 
 Thou canst see this metal glow 
 
 'Neath the shallow water's flow, 
 
 While the sands upon the shore 
 
 Flash with lumps of yellow ore." 
 
 When De Soto, asking eager, 
 
 'Mid excited exclamations 
 
 And Ortiz's ejaculations. 
 
 Gained his servant's knowledge meager, 
 
 "Send," he said, "the men who know 
 
 Where those golden streamlets flow." 
 
 Came the messenger and told 
 
COFACHIQUI. 41 
 
 AYliere he gathered up that gold; 
 Said that all might be supplied- — 
 He would go with them as guide. 
 Long with questions Soto plied him, 
 Sternly, somewhat doubting, eyed him. 
 But not once by failing tone 
 Or by changing look was shown 
 That a false tale he was weaving, 
 And De Soto heard believing. 
 Briefly to Ortiz he said. 
 As he took once more the bread, 
 " We must seek without delay 
 For this gold. We move to-day." 
 
 Through the camj^ the order went, 
 
 " Pack the baggage ! strike the tent ! 
 
 We shall reach before we rest 
 
 El Dorado in the west." 
 
 And the order was obeyed 
 
 Promptly, and no man delayed. 
 
 Though some frowned and murmured low, 
 
 " Must we further undergo 
 
 Useless perils and privations, 
 
 Sojourn 'mong these savage nations. 
 
 Seeking what may not be found, 
 
 Though we seek the earth around; 
 
 For in seeking El Dorado, 
 
 We but seek a mocking shadow." 
 
 Yet they went where Soto led, 
 
 As the feet obey the head. 
 
 To the northwest on they press 
 
42 COFACHIQUI. 
 
 Through a savage wilderness. 
 Talladega the third day- 
 Guided them upon their way, 
 And thenceforth to Tallapuza, 
 Where the royal Tascaluza 
 In his savage pomp awaited 
 Soto and his Spaniards hated, 
 And, while wearing friendship's guise, 
 Deeply planned their sacrifice. 
 
 The Spaniards reached the tow^n at last 
 
 And onward to the plaza passed. 
 
 The plaza square was smooth and wide, 
 
 About it ranged on every side 
 
 The low, broad, thatch-roofed houses stood. 
 
 Substantial and for shelter good. 
 
 Some of pine trunks smoothly hewed. 
 
 Some of logs round, rough and rude. 
 
 In the middle of the square, 
 'Neath a great magnolia's shade. 
 Sat the Indian monarch there, 
 On a throne whereon displayed 
 AVas each barbaric ornament 
 The savage deems magnificent: 
 Tinted shells were strung with pearls 
 Fit to deck a princess' curls; 
 Plumage of the brightest hue. 
 Shimmering mingling red and blue. 
 Changing in the light to green; 
 Soft, rich furs and were seen. 
 Over Tascaluza' s head 
 
COFACHIQUI. 43 
 
 Was a canopy outspread 
 Made of deerskin snowy white 
 Deeply fringed with crimson bright. 
 Many a strange device it bore 
 And was borne by warriors four. 
 
 Soon along the nearer side 
 
 Of the plaza smooth and wide 
 
 The Spaniards formed their dress parade 
 
 With arms and banners full displayed. 
 
 'Round the giant Indian king 
 
 Stood his braves, a deep, dense ring. 
 
 And in the plaza's farther space 
 
 Many a warrior held his place. 
 
 Not unarmed the warriors stand; 
 
 Spear or bow grasps every hand; 
 
 Quivers full hang at their backs; 
 
 In each belt the flint war-ax. 
 
 Though their weapons were displayed, 
 
 Not a hostile move was made; 
 
 The red lion showed his claws, 
 
 But in peace restrained his paws; 
 
 Proudly stalked but still forebore 
 
 Angry growl or threatening roar. 
 
 Opened wide the warriors' ring 
 As up toward the Indian king 
 Soto came with martial stride, 
 Talladega at his side. 
 As when mighty monarchs meet, 
 Graciously each other greet. 
 With ceremonious courtesy. 
 
44 COFACHIQUI. 
 
 Where pride and deference agree, 
 Met the white chief and the red, 
 Each his courteous greeting said. 
 
 Soto's lips wore gracious smiles, 
 
 But his eager eyes the whiles 
 
 Noted that the Indian king 
 
 Wore full many a golden ring, 
 
 In ear and nose, on neck and hands. 
 
 Pendants thick and broad, bright bands. 
 
 When his compliments were passed 
 
 And the greetings done at last, 
 
 Soto 'gan to talk of gold 
 
 And of what he had been told 
 
 Of the streams whose beds were teeming 
 
 With the precious metal gleaming. 
 
 All that Talladega heard 
 
 He confirmed with earnest word, 
 
 But to Soto he averred 
 
 That the golden region lay 
 
 Many a long day's march away, 
 
 And that Soto's course must thence 
 
 Altered be in consequence 
 
 Of a vast and wild morass 
 
 Which no human foot could pass, 
 
 Lying in their course direct. 
 
 And their way must thence deflect 
 
 Far around the southern marge 
 
 Of this pathless swamp so large. 
 
 " When you journey from this place," 
 
 Said the chieftain, "turn your face 
 
COFACHIQUI. 45 
 
 That the setting sun shall stand 
 'Twixt your face and better hand, 
 As before that star has done, 
 That lone, pale and central one 
 'Bound which all the others run." 
 
 He himself must go that way 
 To a town that owned his sway, 
 It was on their proper course. 
 He would gladly join their force, 
 Through the forest be- their guide, 
 If they 'd give him beast to ride. 
 Well the wily Indian king 
 Knew that weeks of wandering 
 Would destroy his dreaded foes 
 More than myriad spears and bows. 
 
 Soto readily complied 
 
 With the king's desire to ride. 
 
 Resting there but one brief day. 
 
 They resumed their weary way. 
 
 Tascaluza's destined steed. 
 
 Chosen for the burden's need. 
 
 Tallest, strongest of the lot. 
 
 Was to Tascaluza brought. 
 
 Mounted with an easy swing 
 
 Of his limbs the giant king. 
 
 Gaining his unwonted seat. 
 
 Found he no place for his feet: 
 
 The longest stirrups of the troop. 
 
 Though lengthened to their longest loop, 
 
 Seemed to his length of leg a toy — 
 
46 COFACHIQUI. 
 
 The hobby trappings of a boy. 
 The useless stirrups were so short 
 His feet hung doTvai without support 
 So low that the tall horse he rode 
 Seemed but a burro 'neath his load. 
 
 Day by day the Spaniards pressed 
 Onward slowly south by west. 
 At times like verdant islands seen 
 Rose the oak groves bright and green; 
 'Round them like a blue-green flood 
 Stretched afar the pitch-pine wood. 
 From the red or yellow sand 
 Rose the lofty trunks and grand, 
 Forming many a colonnade — 
 Lofty roofs their thick boughs made. 
 Echoed those dark arches 'round 
 Many a loud, unwonted sound: 
 Armor's clang and bloodhound's bay, 
 Pack-mule's loud, discordant bray, 
 Musket's crack and ax's stroke, 
 Snatch of song and boisterous joke. 
 
 Once when waned the autumn day. 
 And the column made its way 
 Through a valley broad and low, 
 And the -march wp.s hard and slow, 
 For the vines and canes grew rank 
 And the soil was soft and dank, 
 Suddenly a clamor ran 
 From the rear-guard to the van. 
 Of the captive natives three 
 
COFACHIQUI. 47 
 
 Made an effort and were free — 
 
 Sprang into the underwood 
 
 And from sight their 'scape made good. 
 
 One was young Atcamba brave, 
 
 One an Indian maiden slave, 
 
 One the maid of royal rank 
 
 From the Tronatisca's bank. 
 
 Quick and hot pursuit was made, 
 On the trail the bloodhounds bayed. 
 Foremost in pursuit to bound. 
 Nearest to the baying hound. 
 Was a Spaniard scarred and gray 
 Known as Pancho Amarey. 
 Battle-worn was he and old, 
 Active, ardent, though, and bold. 
 He the fleeing Indian maid 
 Claimed as booty of his blade. 
 
 Soon the trail he follows leads 
 To the Tensaw's bordering reeds. 
 In water dark or rushes green 
 Naught of either maid was seen. 
 But at bay Atcamba stood. 
 Near the water on a log, 
 Keeping off each baying dog 
 With a club of cypress wood. 
 When the sword of Amarey 
 Rose the fugitive to slay. 
 Dove he from the river's brink 
 Like an otter or a mink. 
 And the Spaniard's eager sight 
 
48 COFACHIQUI. 
 
 Marked no traces of his flight. 
 
 Then along the river's bounds 
 Rushed the Spaniard and the hounds, 
 Seeking where the trail once more 
 Might be found upon the shore. 
 But the questing bloodhounds fail 
 To resume the broken trail; 
 Baffled, they at length turn back 
 On the marching column's track, 
 Leaving there hot Amarey 
 From his comrades far away. 
 
 When the Spaniards left the spot 
 Where brave Vitachuco fought — 
 Hopeless fought and dauntless died — 
 From the woods, where scattered wide 
 Since the battle's deadly rout 
 They had lain, came stealing out 
 Squaw and child and warrior stout. 
 'Round the dead chief they did crowd, 
 Wailing lamentations loud. 
 When the night began to gloom 
 They bore the body to the tomb 
 And thus wildly, mournfully. 
 Sang his dirge and eulogy: 
 
 O thou towering magnifolia, 
 Chattahachi's proud magnolia, 
 Prone on earth dost pale and perish. 
 Never more to flower and flourish. 
 Never more shall thy broad shadow 
 
COFACHIQUI. 49 
 
 From the sun shield the parched meadow. 
 Evil was the storm that reft thee, 
 Evil cloud sent bolt that cleft thee. 
 
 Vitachuco, sovereign peerless ! 
 Low must be thy lodge and cheerless; 
 Low must li^ thy proud head royal, 
 Wail in woe thy people loyal. 
 Who of all thy tribe so faithless 
 That he to have kept thee scatheless 
 Would not his own life have offered? 
 Would not torture-fire have suffered? 
 
 In the game thy foot was strongest, 
 'Neath its strokes the balls leaps longest. 
 In the chase no aim was truer. 
 None could more fatigue endure. 
 Vain was all the fleet deer's running, 
 Vain the dun coyote's cunning, 
 Vain the strength of savage bruin, 
 To elude thy weapon's ruin. 
 
 'Mong the brave thou wert the bravest. 
 Fiercest blows in fight thou gavest. 
 When the foe came on thee rushing, 
 Downward came thy war-club crushing. 
 Fatal was thine arrow singing. 
 Sharper than the scorpion stinging. 
 Once so terrible, but now 
 Craven hand might smite that brow. 
 
 Closed those eagle eyes forever. 
 
60 COFACHIQUI. 
 
 And that still form more shall never 
 Feel of battle wound the anguish, 
 Or in love's caresses languish. 
 Ne'er the war-cry of the foeman 
 Nor the gentle song of woman 
 Shalt thou hear, nor e'er the rattle 
 And the rush and roar of battle. 
 
 As on earth thou hast done well, 
 So thou shalt forever dwell 
 In the happy hunting land, 
 Where shall never fail thy hand. 
 Where thy foot shall never tire 
 And success shall e'er inspire. 
 Now on earth farewell forever, 
 Here again we '11 see thee never. 
 
 PAST IV. 
 
 M 
 
 THE TORTUEE. 
 
 imanity to mai 
 The foes malign, of earth, or sea, or air, 
 
 ^ ^ A yr AN'S inhumanity to man." Of all 
 
 That may the soul of hapless man appall. 
 
 None have relentless hate that will not spare, 
 
 Or fiendish cruelty beyond compare, 
 
 Like that which him his brother man can show: 
 
 The terrible revenge which bids him bear 
 
 Limbs wrenched, flesh torn, the scourging thorn's 
 
 sharp blow 
 The flaming splinter's thrust, the torture-fire's red 
 
 glow. 
 
COFACHIQUI. 51 
 
 And what ! it may be said, believe may we 
 
 That courage high, the spirit, as you tell 
 
 Which strikes for kindred, home and country free, 
 
 The loyal honor which not death can quell, 
 
 Regard for guest and self-devotion swell 
 
 The cruel, brutal, treacherous heart that glees 
 
 To see the tortured cai)tive writhe? Ne'er dwell 
 
 High virtues, noble sentiments like these [freeze. 
 
 With demon cruelty whose deeds the warm blood 
 
 Not so. Not only in the untamed souls 
 
 Of the dark warriors of the spear and bow 
 
 Dwell passions far apart as are the poles. 
 
 Bright virtues whose outbreaking, fitful glow 
 
 By contrast strong (its force who does not know?) 
 
 Makes their dark passions more abhorrent seem. 
 
 At stormy close of autumn day, e'en so 
 
 The setting sun's outbreaking, dazzling beam [gleam. 
 
 But makes the eastern cloud grow darker with its 
 
 Thus mingle dark and bright on many a page 
 
 Where high and martial deeds recorded slnnd, 
 
 The deeds of modern or chivalric age. 
 
 The knights of Spain, with dauntless heart and hand 
 
 Wrung from the fiery Moors their native land, 
 
 Wrought mighty deeds at faith and country's call, 
 
 Deeds of high valor, pure, chivalric, grand, 
 
 Till rose the cross above Granada's wall [hall. 
 
 And peerless Christian knights trod in Alhambra's 
 
 Then swarming overseas to a new shore, 
 They braved all dangers and endured all pain. 
 
52 COFACHIQUI. 
 
 But did such fiendish deeds as ne'er before [Spain 
 Stained knighthood's name and made the name of 
 And Spaniard stronger terms for lust of gain, 
 Base treachery and cruelty and cruelty inhuman 
 AVhich to the fiery bed, the hound, the chain. 
 Could doom a royal guest and noble woman — 
 Of ruth and honor void alike to friend or foeman. 
 
 Night with A'-apors chill and damp 
 Dark o'erhung the Spanish camp, 
 On the sluggish Tensaw's bank, 
 Fringed with rushes, low and dank. 
 From a hundred fires ascended 
 Jetty wreaths with red blaze blended. 
 'Bound them soldiers sat or slumbered. 
 Some with armor still encumbered. 
 Each within liis canvas tent, 
 'Mid the lights and shadows blent 
 Of the half-illumined night 
 Looming spectrally and white, 
 Slept the chieftains of the band; 
 'Bound them guardsmen kept their stand. 
 
 Not an arrow's flight away 
 From the men who sleeping lay. 
 Thick corralled and watched by guard. 
 Where the thin and sandy sward 
 Was by hoof-strokes torn and tramped. 
 Pack-mule brayed and war steed stamped. 
 Where the farthest wandering rays 
 Of the outmost camp-fire's blaze 
 Could no farther pierce among 
 
COFACHIQUI. 63 
 
 Massive trunks and boughs low liung, 
 
 But were foiled and struggling fell, 
 
 Crouched a silent sentinel. 
 
 Faint the broken fire-beams played 
 
 On his drawn Toledo blade. 
 
 Over all the pine trees flung 
 
 Lofty crests which moveless hung. 
 
 Just without the Spanish line 
 
 And beyond their watch-fires' shine, 
 
 In the silence and the dark, 
 
 Lighted not by flame or spark, 
 
 Rose a lodge of bison skin 
 
 Light and strangely wrought; within, 
 
 On a couch of pine boughs sere. 
 
 Spread with skin of bear and deer, 
 
 Tascaluza sleeping lay, 
 
 Dreaming of the plotted fray. 
 
 By his lodge a sentinel 
 
 Noted every sound that fell. 
 
 'Bound his few attendants slept 
 
 'Neath the dews the sad night wept. 
 
 Time with noiseless steps strode on; 
 Half the starless night was gone. 
 Suddenly a warning sound ! 
 Crouched the sentry to the ground. 
 Straining eye and ear intent 
 While his ready bow he bent. 
 What the light sound which he heard? 
 Had the wind the pine boughs stirred? 
 No; the air was still as death; 
 
54 COFACHIQUI. 
 
 Not e'en moved the zephyr's breath. 
 Surely human foot could ne'er 
 Tread that ground with pine boughs sere 
 Spread and such slight rustling make 
 As would scarce the rabbit wake, 
 Even though that foot had been 
 Hunter's clad in moccasin. 
 
 Yes; the crouching sentinel 
 Knew the stealthy footsteps well 
 Knew them not the gray wolf's tread 
 Nor the steps of panther dread, 
 Nor the Spaniard's heavy boot, 
 But the the tread of Indian foot. 
 Suddenly the owl's deep hoot 
 Trembled on the murky night — 
 Thrice repeated came with slight 
 Intervals, and seemed to float 
 From uncertain points remote. 
 But the watch the warning knew; 
 Back an answering signal flew. 
 
 Then a dark form in the night 
 And a rapid tread and light. 
 And the silence further broken 
 By one word of greeting spoken, 
 As that form the sentry nears. 
 By him flits and disappears 
 In the lodge, from which soon come 
 Voices low with stifled hum. 
 Then two forms come from thh tent; 
 Like the lofty pine unbent, 
 
COFACHIQUI. 55 
 
 Crested with dark, drooping plumes, 
 High the second figure looms. 
 
 As the two forms lightly stepped 
 O'er the braves who 'round them slept, 
 Every sleeper raised his head, 
 Wakened e'en by that soft tread, 
 'Kound him gazed a moment, then 
 Careless laid him down again. 
 Scarcely could the active guide 
 With his swift steps match the stride 
 Of the chief — a long, slow sweep — 
 As their silent way they keep 
 Over swamp and sandy swell, 
 Grassy glade and forest dell. 
 Till, at last, on their dark way. 
 Fell a faint, far-reaching ray. 
 Like a vein of ruddy gold 
 Piercing through black lava rock. 
 To the surface heaved of old 
 By some fierce volcanic shock. 
 And it was not long alone; 
 Soon a hundred others shone 
 'Tween and on the great trunks 'round 
 And upon the leaf -strewn ground. 
 Then a flood of strongest light 
 Poured upon their dazzled sight. 
 
 Full revealed by that strong sheen 
 Was a wild and stirring scene. 
 Gathered 'round a council fire. 
 Decked in savage war attire. 
 
56 COFACHIQUI. 
 
 Young men, lithe and straight as spears, 
 Old men, bent with weight of years, 
 Chieftain, warrior, sqnaw and child, 
 Forming an assemblage wild. 
 First that council's ring within, 
 Seated on the bear's dark skin. 
 Were the chiefs whose lengthened age 
 Fitted them for counsel sage; 
 Then the chiefs of lesser fame 
 And the well tried warriors came; 
 Young braves then, and boys whose bows 
 Mimic war waged with the crows. 
 Outermost of all the crowd. 
 Humble squaws watched the debate 
 Of the chieftains with their loud 
 Words and gestures i^assionate. 
 
 Quite without the council throng. 
 But within the fire-light strong, 
 Stood a Spaniard with his hands 
 O'er his head and rawhide bands 
 Wrapped his wrists and fastened them 
 To a young pine's slender stem. 
 Half reclining on the ground, 
 Eyes upon the captive bound. 
 Warriors guarded Amarey 
 As fierce tigers watch their prey. 
 
 Tascaluza, at a glance. 
 Noted every circumstance 
 Of that wild scene as he came 
 Toward the rolling council flame; 
 
COFACHIQUI. 57 
 
 And before that haughty stride 
 
 Quickly formed an opening wide 
 
 To the center of the ring, 
 
 While, in homage to their king. 
 
 Every head, though plumed and proud, 
 
 Low to Tascaluza bowed. 
 
 The cacique stood towering high 
 
 O'er the council, his fierce eye 
 
 O'er each face around him ran. 
 
 As to speak he thus began: 
 
 " When in hot and eager chase 
 
 We encounter face to face 
 
 Some strong, savage beast of prey, 
 
 Then our thought is but to slay, 
 
 As we can and as we may. 
 
 But when we have trapped and toiled 
 
 Some fierce monster that 's despoiled 
 
 All our lodges, then we may 
 
 Settle in debate at leisure 
 
 How to make his death repay 
 
 All our losses in our pleasure. 
 
 Chiefs and braves, let your debate 
 
 Be upon the captive's fate." 
 
 One by one that council grave, 
 Chieftain high and war -famed brave, 
 Kose but to repeat that long 
 Tale of perfidy and wTong, 
 Tale of ravage and of blood 
 Spilled by Chattahachi's flood, 
 Leaving thence a dark red stain 
 
58 COFACHIQUI. 
 
 To the broad and sounding main; 
 Villages in ruins laid, 
 The return for kindness made; 
 Of their braves by hundreds slain 
 On sad Allagarda's plain: 
 Chieftains proud and noble braves 
 Made the hated Spaniards' slaves; 
 Of the fair and noble maid 
 From the Tronatisca's shade 
 Dragged a captive in the train 
 Of the ruthless men of Spain; 
 And the part this captive played 
 In the ravage and the slaughter: 
 Indian blood had stained his blade 
 And an Indian chieftain's daughter 
 For his concubine and slave 
 He had taken; she had fled: 
 Then her Spanish tyrant gave 
 Swift pursuit which quickly led 
 Him astray; the thicket rang 
 AYith a sudden, startling yell 
 And like panthers on him sprang 
 Twenty braves, and on the ground, 
 Sooner than the tongue could tell, 
 Lay the Spanish tyrant bound. 
 
 Thus the chieftains spoke — each word 
 Tascaluza silent heard — 
 Voiceless, though fierce passion's storm 
 Heaved and shook his giant form 
 As the earthquake heaves the plain, 
 As the tempest heaves the main. 
 
COFACHIQUI. 59 
 
 As amid the crater's glow, 
 Smoky columns swaying slow 
 Eise up darkly high in air, 
 'Mid the council fire's red glare, 
 Eolling billows of red light 
 On the black shores of the night, 
 Tascaluza darkly towered. 
 Fiercely on the captive glowered. 
 
 "I have heard enough !" he cried; 
 "All the path is black and wide 
 "Where De Soto and his band 
 Wander through the Indian land. 
 Each one merits torture slow 
 And the spirit land of woe. 
 And as for this ravisher, 
 Spaniard, robber, murderer. 
 Let him feel our pine's hot breath. 
 Let him die the fiery death !" 
 
 Back and forth swift echo flies. 
 Bearing loud approving cries. 
 Amarey then knew full well 
 Horrid death was in that yell. 
 And his firm-pressed lips grew whiter, 
 But his eyes grew sterner, brighter. 
 As in August's sultry tide 
 Thunder clouds from far and wide 
 Gather darkly overhead. 
 Threatening hang a space of dread. 
 Scatter then and farther on 
 Are again together drawn. 
 
60 COFACHIQUI. 
 
 Fiercer, darker than before, 
 In terrific fury pour, 
 So that cloud of red men burst, 
 Out into the night dispersed. 
 Every requisite to make 
 Ready for the torture stake'. 
 
 Then with flinty hatchet's stroke 
 Felled and hewed a stake of oak. 
 Strong and filled with sap and meet 
 To withstand the pitch-pine's heat; 
 Just where fell the farthest rays 
 Of the rolling council blaze 
 Fixed it firmly in the ground. 
 And the captive to it bound — 
 Bound him with the rawhide's thong, 
 Green and pliant, tough and strong. 
 With his hands high o'er his head — 
 Scarce his feet the ground could tread. 
 Then around the stake they placed 
 Fragments of the pine woods' waste. 
 Scaly cones and light limbs dry, 
 Long since reft by tempests high. 
 Knots and hearts of old boughs, rich 
 With the gummy, odorous pitch. 
 
 'Round the stake in circle deep 
 Then the dusky warriors sweep. 
 Of the foremost of that band 
 Armed is every red right hand, 
 Not with weapons edged with flint, 
 But with many a reedy splint - 
 
COFACHIQUI. 61 
 
 . Splinters sharp as points of thorns, 
 Sharp as fangs of snake-that-warns, 
 Large and filled with pitch, they might 
 Bnrn as torches in the night. 
 
 Then advanced one wan and old, 
 One who claimed the power to hold 
 Converse with the spirit world. 
 O'er his head a torch he whirled, 
 And with lean and withered hand 
 To the fuel placed the brand. 
 Upward glanced a tongue of fire, 
 Growing broader, rising higher. 
 Casting back that glancing beam, 
 Hundreds of fierce eyeballs gleam. 
 Pine trunks huge and rough and high, 
 Arched with feathery canopy. 
 Darkly show in the red light 
 Growing stronger and more bright. 
 As the red flames upward creep 
 In the white, set face they peep; 
 In the victim's eyes they shine 
 As up toward his knees they twdne. 
 
 Amarey was brave and tried; 
 He had soldiered far and wide; 
 Danger seen in many lands; 
 Trod o'er Afric's burning sands; 
 Heard the Li ! li ! li !* wild scream; 
 Seen the blue steel glance and gleam 
 AVhen with cimetars of flame 
 
 *Li ! li ! li !— the battle cry of the Moors. 
 
62 COFACHIQUI. 
 
 Moslem horse to battle came; 
 
 Stormed o'er Cuzco's golden wall; 
 
 Seen the Mexic banner fall 
 
 When Cortez charged with heart of flame 
 
 And his chosen with him came. 
 
 Hitherto his courage high 
 
 Perils could not terrify, 
 
 Hardships break his hardihood, 
 
 Suffering quell his fortitude. 
 
 Now he realized full sure 
 
 That this torment to endure 
 
 He would need an iron frame, 
 
 Nerves and sinews too the same; 
 
 Need his patron saint to grant 
 
 Him a heart of adamant. 
 
 As the rapid flames advance 
 Deep and wild the wizard chants: 
 " Spirit of evil, death and gloom, 
 Yiew this base marauder's doom; 
 Laugh in thine appalling glee; 
 Fit the victim is for thee. 
 And besides this torture fire 
 May thou glut thine anger dire 
 With five hundred victims base 
 Of this same accursed race. 
 May the famine's bony grasp 
 Long their wasting forms enclasp; 
 Burning thirst with horrid pains 
 Scorch their tongues and fire their veins. 
 Onward by their sore needs pressed, 
 Never know the joy of rest. 
 
COFACHIQUI. 63 
 
 " May their naked flesh be torn 
 By the piercing cactus thorn; 
 May the cougar on them feed, 
 Or the sting of centipede, 
 Or the massasauger's bite, 
 Poison all their flesh so white, 
 Till their bones unburied lie. 
 Marking to the red man's eye 
 As they whiten and decay 
 Every camp upon the way 
 From Mauvila, stained with blood 
 To the Mississippi's flood. 
 As a future prolongation 
 Of their earthly pains and woes, 
 Dreadful, endless in duration. 
 Swift begnming at life's close, 
 May their spirits ever roam 
 Where no happiness can come. 
 In a drear and desert land 
 Filled with cactus and with sand." 
 
 The prophet ceased his curses dire 
 To watch the swelling, glowing fire. 
 'Round the victim's body curled 
 Tongues of flame and darkly swirled 
 Clouds of smoke about his head; 
 Added to his torment dread 
 Many a blazing splinter's wound. 
 Still 't was borne without a sound 
 For five minutes' space or so. 
 Minutes each like ages slow; 
 Then the mighty fortitude 
 
64 COFACHIQUI. 
 
 Of the Spaniard was subdued. 
 
 Wildly burst he into prayer: 
 
 "Holy Mary ! Mother fair ! 
 
 By thy son to Calvary led, 
 
 By the blood which there he shed, 
 
 By the anguish thou didst feel 
 
 When the thrust of Roman steel 
 
 And the cruel nails they drove 
 
 Pierced those hands, that heart of love, 
 
 While thou gazedst from below. 
 
 Filled with pity, anguish, woe, 
 
 I implore in mercy's name, 
 
 Spare me from this cruel flame ! 
 
 Mortal man may not endure — 
 
 Oh ! deliver, mother pure ! 
 
 thou Christ, the Son of God, 
 Who Gethsemane hast trod, 
 AVho in anguish sweat drops shed. 
 Bloody drops with earth-bowed head. 
 Was thine agony more dire 
 
 Than the torment of this fire? 
 Did the thorn crown deeper pierce 
 Than these flaming splinters fierce? 
 Thou canst pity, then, oh! spare ! 
 
 1 've not strength like thine to bear." 
 
 Faint the last words choking hung 
 On the crackling lips and tongue. 
 Strong imploring in that cry. 
 Help beseeching from on high. 
 Anguish that would not be pent. 
 
COFACHIQUI. 65 
 
 Faith triumphant, all were blent, 
 And the heathen warriors there 
 Knew the solemn woice of prayer. 
 
 'Round an awful stillness falls; 
 "Hark ! upon his gods he calls!" 
 Then said one with chieftain's belt, 
 Speaking what the many felt. 
 "Fiercely burns the white man's wrath, 
 Fallen braves bestrew his path; 
 Flashes from his weapon fly 
 Like the storm-cloud's fiery eye. 
 And its voice in thunder speaks. 
 'Round and o'er his hairy cheeks 
 Gleams a head-dress bright and fierce; 
 Spears cannot his garments pierce; 
 And the wondrous beast he rides 
 In its strength and swiftness prides. 
 Mighty, then, his gods must be. 
 Have they also crossed the sea? 
 Who, then, can withstand their ire? 
 Who can quench their awful fire? 
 Lofty trees will writhe and break, ' 
 Lightning scathe and firm hills quake; 
 Or the earth will swallow down 
 All our tribe beneath their frown." 
 Then a thrill of trembling awe 
 Filled the soul of brave and squaw. 
 Tenfold blacker seemed the night, 
 Filled with specters of affright. 
 
 Tascaluza then upspoke; 
 
66 COFACHIQUI. 
 
 Proud and fierce the words outbroke: 
 " Hast tliou learned, O chief, to speak 
 Words of fear like women weak? 
 Tascaluza and liis braves, 
 Are they Soto's trembling slaves? 
 Will they for his lightnings quail? 
 For his weapons' thunder pale? 
 Flee before his armor's flash, 
 When his riders on us dash? 
 One great spirit rules the world — 
 Can he from his seat be hurled? 
 He is good as well as great; 
 He who did our tribes create. 
 Will he not likewise befriend? 
 Cannot his strong arm defend 
 His red children in the fight 
 When they stand for home and right 
 Gainst a base marauding band, 
 Outcast, mayhap, from their land? 
 Very few their warriors are, 
 AVhile the spears our warriors bear 
 Many are as are the blades 
 Of the grass in Tensaw's glades. 
 Swifter than the pigeon's wing. 
 Sharper than the hornet's sting 
 Is the Indian arrow flight. 
 And the Spanish armor bright 
 Tascaluza' s club can crush 
 As the strong beak of the thrush 
 Breaks the beetle's shining shell." 
 
 Tascaluza paused — full well 
 
COFACHIQUI. 67 
 
 Had his boasting turned the tide 
 
 Of their fears and roused their pride. 
 
 Allagarda's bloody plain 
 
 Was forgotten with its slain 
 
 Chiefs and braves by hundreds piled. 
 
 Re-assured, they shouted wild; 
 
 Flinty spears on high were flung, 
 
 Dark shields 'gainst the war-clubs rung, 
 
 And they turned again to gaze 
 
 On their victim in the blaze. 
 
 But the charred and blackened frame 
 
 Motionless was 'mid the flame — 
 
 Gone the pangs that thrilled him through, 
 
 Groans of anguish from him drew. 
 
 As the string when the bow is bent 
 
 By a strong hand violent 
 
 Sharply parts and, falling slack. 
 
 Lets the bended bow spring back, 
 
 So the tortured nerves gave way 
 
 And the quick sense lost its sway, 
 
 And the warrior's dismal yell 
 
 On his ear unheeded fell; 
 
 Though the spirit for a space 
 
 Lingered in the clay's embrace. 
 
 Soon the flames grew less intense 
 And the black smoke grew less dense. 
 As the heaped-up fuel shrank 
 And the live brands crumbling sank, 
 Till the embers smoldered low 
 With a red and fitful glow. 
 
 18 
 
68 COFACHIQUI. 
 
 In their midst there lay a pile 
 
 Of charred bones; the crowd the while 
 
 That had gathered 'round the fire, 
 
 When they saw their foe exj^ire 
 
 And the scene of torment cease, 
 
 Soon began to fast decrease. 
 
 Till of all those dusky faces 
 
 Only three still held their places. 
 
 O'er the others towei-ed 
 
 Tascaluza's plumely head — 
 
 Turned he from the torture-fire 
 
 Iterating curses dire, 
 
 Burning thirst and reptile's sting. 
 
 Weary, endless wandering, 
 
 Famine, pest and fiery pain 
 
 On the ruthless men of Spain — 
 
 Turned to leave, and in the gloom 
 
 Vanished his dark form and plume. 
 
 PAKT V. 
 
 MAUVILA. 
 
 ^ 'n~^ WAS morn. The star of Lucifer grew pale 
 
 X And trembled at the sun's approaching tread — 
 God's regent — and as with an azure vail 
 Thrice doubled, hid his face. From her proud head 
 The East let down her yellow hair that shed 
 Its beauty down her shoulders, with the flush 
 Of day's returning tide now faintly red, 
 As with the warm blood rising in the blush 
 On Beauty's cheek, betraying the deep feelings' rush. 
 
COFACHIQUI. 69 
 
 The Morning pressed her bright and dewy lips 
 To Earth, like meeting lovers' fond caress. 
 Night passing had strewn gems which did eclipse 
 In brightness pure the costliest stones which i3ress 
 A royal brow, or deck a royal dress. 
 Each subject of the Day awoke and stirred, 
 And act or voice expressed its happiness. 
 While leading all the feathered choir were heard 
 The ever-changing notes of the glad mocking-bird. 
 
 Before the morning's pure, bright beam 
 Tine waning camp-fire's ruddy gleam, 
 Mixed with the foul and pitchy smoke 
 (Not the blue wreaths from flames of oak) 
 
 Grew dimmer, more obscure. 
 As human passions, burning clear 
 To our benighted vision here. 
 Are, in the light of heaven severe, 
 
 With smoke of sin impure. 
 
 In nooks far up the pine trees' hight 
 Some lingering remnants of the night 
 Hid trembling from the coming lighl. 
 Of stirring life some tokens slight 
 
 Showed in the camp below. 
 Then, as the sentry loudly spoke. 
 The Captain of the Guard awoke, 
 Saw day around him fully broke 
 
 And bade the bugle blow. 
 
 Short space to reign had silence ere 
 Burst forth the war notes wild and clear, 
 
70 COFACHIQUI. 
 
 The cymbal's clang and bugle's blare 
 And drum peals rolled upon the air 
 
 In rude but rhythmic glee. 
 Upstarting forms and armor's clang 
 Soon followed as the bugle sang 
 And all the woods' dark arches rang 
 
 To that loud reveille. 
 
 At the first stir the dusky slaves 
 Who once were haughty chiefs and braves, 
 Now humbled 'neath the Spaniard's heel, 
 Tamed by the Spaniard's fire and steel, ' 
 
 Stern, sullen, but subdued, 
 Came forth and 'gan with irksome care 
 (A task unwonted) to prepare 
 Their hated masters' morning fare 
 
 Of Indian foraged food. 
 
 The meal dispatched with soldier haste, 
 Regarding hunger more than taste. 
 The scanty baggage of the train 
 Was ready packed for march again 
 
 And on the pack-mules placed. 
 Then at the bugle's warning blast 
 The squadrons formed their ranks full fast, 
 But trimly all their files were massed — 
 
 Precision joined with haste. 
 
 Oft have I seen the mist cloud white 
 Which lay upon the ground all night 
 Else with the sun into the sky 
 And form in masses dense and high. 
 
COFACHIQUl. 71 
 
 And move upon their way 
 With stern, majestic sweep and slow, 
 "With sun-bright crests but dark below. 
 And stored with bolts to speed and glow, 
 
 Ere long, and burn and slay. 
 
 Thus formed the ranks — the march began; 
 The chief with Soto in the van; 
 Then triple ranks of horsemen rode, 
 And next with sw^ord and matchlock strode 
 
 Each sturdy musketeer; 
 And then of sumpter mules a train 
 Brought from the mountain paths of Spain, 
 And mounted guards a score or twain 
 
 Brought up the column's rear. 
 
 Before the rear-guard marched a band 
 Of captive natives of the land, 
 Who wore with dark and silent mood 
 The galling yoke of servitude 
 
 E'en on their native soil. 
 Some on their limbs the fetters wore 
 And burdens haughty warriors bore 
 And chieftains' daughters who before 
 
 Knew naught of such rough toil. 
 
 But with the coming of the day 
 Came not again bold Amarey. 
 His absence Soto's mind oppressed 
 Who Tascaluza thus addressed: 
 " Still comes the absent not. 
 Fell he a victim to the hate 
 
 19 
 
72 COFACHIQUI. 
 
 Of thy fierce braves who 'round us wait? 
 Mark thou! if such has been his fate — 
 If harm has been his lot 
 
 "By knowledge or permit of thine — 
 Yes, if before again shall shine 
 In the red west the evening star, 
 He be not safe returned, thus far 
 
 Shall retribution reach: 
 Long slialt thou wear the iron chain 
 In some deep dungeon cell of Spain, 
 And — " Soto checked the headlong strain 
 
 Of his audacious speech. 
 
 The chief was silent for a space 
 While o'er his grave and haughty face 
 There passed a faint and transient light, 
 As on a still, clear summer niglit 
 
 Appears the lightning's fiash 
 Along the border of the sky. 
 While far below the reach of eye 
 The storm-king's gloomy banners liy, . 
 
 Unheard his thunders crash. 
 
 Thus deeply Tascaluza kept 
 Concealed the storm that fiercely swept 
 His breast — the storm of wrath and pride, 
 And thus in even tones replied: 
 "O chief from o'er the sea, 
 My braves by my command are bound 
 To search with care the region 'round. 
 Thy soldier lost, as soon as found 
 
COFACHIQUI. 73 
 
 Shall be restored to thee. 
 
 " And, trust me, ere the coming night 
 Thy comrade's form shall greet thy sight. 
 And now I'll send a courier fleet 
 That at Mauvila welcome meet 
 
 May wait my noble guest." 
 The Indian king did forward ride 
 To where a band of warriors tried 
 Went forth to pioneer and guide 
 
 The column. His l^ehest 
 
 To one of these he thus made known, 
 When he had drawn him ofl' alone: 
 " In haste unto Mauvila run 
 And say for me unto my son: 
 
 ' Prepare of food great store, 
 And bring for Soto's use the best, 
 Such as befits a royal guest, 
 And furnish quarters where may rest 
 
 Six hundred men or more; 
 
 " ' And fo.)d for all the menial train, 
 xlnd for their horses furnish grain, 
 And place for both withput the town.' " 
 The coming storm showed in a frown 
 
 As he went on to speak. 
 " Tell him these charges he must keep 
 Though sterner cares shall on him sv» eep, 
 Demanding his attention deep." 
 
 And then the fierce cacique 
 
 Glanced at the coming column's head 
 
74 COFACHIQUI. 
 
 And lowered his voice as if in dread 
 Lest one of his fierce words might reach 
 Some Spaniard who of Indian speech 
 
 Might something understand. 
 "And tell him this: the blow must fall 
 On Soto from Mauvila's wall, 
 And promptly to make ready all 
 Needs active brain and hand. 
 
 " Tell him to rally all my bands 
 And with ten thousand zealous hands 
 To have Mauvila fortified 
 And its defences multiplied 
 
 With all the skill he hath. 
 Let bastion, ditch and gate be made 
 And plant in iiaste the high stockade 
 And let the tough pine palisade 
 
 Ward off" the fires of death." 
 
 While the last word was his tongue 
 The chieftain's hand a signal flung. 
 And then, as if the errand's need 
 Demanded more than human speed, 
 
 The courier sprang away. 
 The chief regained De Soto's side. 
 Few words (though Soto ceaseless plied 
 Fair words and smiles) through that long ride 
 
 Did Tascaluza say. 
 
 The ice of wounded pride morose 
 Which Soto's menaces had froze 
 AVas far too deep to melt away 
 
COFACHIQUI. 75 
 
 Beneath the bright and changeful play 
 
 Of Spanish smiles and grace. 
 The smiling grace was fair and bright, 
 But little warmth was in its light; 
 It came, the savage knew full right, 
 Not from the heart, but face. 
 
 Now, as the Indian town they neared, 
 De Soto, who some treachery feared. 
 Before him secretly sent out, 
 To view the town a mounted scout. 
 
 Who soon returned to tell 
 That, like a hive of bees alarmed, 
 The town with well armed warriors swarmed; 
 Stockades were 'round it being formed 
 
 Assault as to repel. 
 
 At last Mauvila came in sight 
 
 And Soto ordered, in despite 
 
 Of counsel from Ortiz received 
 
 And signs which well might be perceived 
 
 Of treachery designed. 
 His men, who long in camp had fared. 
 To occupy the place prepared 
 For them, and scarce it seemed he shared 
 
 Ortiz's suspicious mind. 
 
 But eight and twenty hours had fled 
 Since Tascaluza's courier sped. 
 And eight were spent upon the road. 
 But with that mandate for a goad. 
 Such zeal had been displayed, 
 
76 . COFACHIQUI. 
 
 Protracted tlirough the live-long, night, 
 With bustle filled, red with fire-light, 
 That when the Spaniards came in sight 
 Frowned the high palisade. 
 
 A deep, wide ditch yawned at its foot 
 And bastions at the angles x)ut 
 Might sweep the moat with archer showers, 
 And at each gate were fianking towers — 
 
 The whole with warriors swarmed. 
 So great the work well Soto may 
 Believe it not of one short day, 
 But trust that, as the dark guides say, 
 
 'T was weeks before performed. 
 
 They said there came against them forth 
 A hostile horde from farther north, 
 That, ere it reached this palisade, 
 Turned back defeated and dismayed; 
 
 And gathered at this call, 
 Their warriors still staid in the place. 
 But Soto plainly saw the trace 
 Of recent work upon the face 
 
 Of bank and wooden wall. 
 
 On through the gates all unopposed 
 
 The Spaniards march with ranks well closed; 
 
 Their music peals its Avildest note 
 
 And high their brightest banners float, 
 
 While polished steel below 
 With their reflected hue gleams red; 
 The horses prance and toss the head; 
 
COFACHIQUI. 77 
 
 Tlie musketeers as one man tread, 
 With measured step and slow. 
 
 But when the soldierly parade 
 The circuit of the town had made, 
 Compliant with the king's demand, 
 Which Soto cared not to withstand, 
 
 He sent without the walls 
 The horses and the musketeers, 
 AVhile the dismounted cavaliers 
 With Soto and Lis officers 
 
 Dwelt in Mauvila's halls. 
 
 That he, expecting an attack. 
 Should thus divide his force seems lack 
 Of that strict prudence which a life 
 Should teach when spent in martial strife; 
 
 But thus does history say. 
 Long after when his broken ranks 
 Had reached the Mississippi's banks. 
 Sore as his worn steed's goaded flanks, 
 
 Was his heart for that dark day. 
 
 Long did his troubled mind recall 
 Mauvila's fatal fosse and wall; 
 Long cursed the war-tried Spanish chief 
 That only sleep, ill starred and brief, 
 
 Of vigilance outworn. 
 Grown confident, he had no fears 
 That his dismounted cavaliers 
 Were not a match for all the spears 
 
 By savage thousands borne. 
 
78 COFACHIQUI. 
 
 High noon — around a board of state 
 The Spanish officers await 
 Keturn from message sent to bring 
 To dine with them the Indian king. 
 
 But thus the chieftain proud 
 Made answer hot: "I will not go. 
 I'm busy here. Let Soto know 
 I'm king and none obedience owe." 
 
 Angry his voice and loud. 
 
 The Spanish messenger replied, 
 " My master w^aits and woe betide 
 If you come not; and you must come." 
 At these rude words an angry hum 
 
 Ean through the crowd without. 
 The cavalry unmounted wait 
 Before De Soto's palace gate. 
 Above that rising hum of hate 
 
 They hear a warrior shout, 
 
 In Tascaluza's hall, "What, must? 
 Thou vagabond and robber, dost 
 Thou dare such insolence to speak 
 To Tascaluza, our cacique, 
 
 So powerful and good? 
 Base wretch! by the great sun I swear, 
 No more thy tyranny we '11 bear. 
 Upon them, warriors; do not spare 
 
 One of this devil's brood!" 
 
 As thunder peal that scarce is past 
 When beating rain-floods follow fast. 
 
COFACHIQUI. 79 
 
 So from a dark and gathering cloud 
 Of warriors, at tliat summons loud, 
 
 A rain of missiles poured. 
 But as those missiles on them stormed, 
 The ready Spaniards promptly formed. 
 While 'round them in fierce tumult swarmed 
 
 A fast increasing horde. 
 
 'to 
 
 The Spaniards, with their horses left 
 Beyond the palisades, were 'reft 
 Of half their terrors, and could stem 
 But ill the tide that surged 'round them, 
 
 And Soto gave command: 
 "Fall back and mount!" They backward drew, 
 But faced the shower of shafts that flew 
 And glanced in fire from buckler true 
 
 And from each circling brand. 
 
 They reached their steeds; each cavalier 
 Sprang to his saddle with a cheer; 
 And then, as from a potent charm, 
 A triple strength seemed in each arm, 
 
 Fresh courage in each soul. 
 Back through the gate the horsemen urge; 
 From vaulting hoofs and saber scourge 
 The foes recoil -wild surge on surge 
 
 The dark tides backward roll. 
 
 But see ! amid the din and rout. 
 To bar them from their friends without. 
 The oaken gates behind them close. 
 And on them now their tlironging foes 
 
80 COFACHIQUI. 
 
 With doubled fury fall. 
 But desperate strength still cuts a way, 
 And 'neath the battle-axes' sway 
 The gates go down, and their array. 
 
 Is soon without the wall. 
 
 But out in hot pursuit soon poured. 
 Led by their chief, the savage horde. 
 And from the palisades and towers 
 Poured out the archers' rattling showers 
 
 Upon the little band. 
 But up the musketeers now came, 
 And from their line of glancing flame 
 Eecoiled the foe like frightened game; 
 
 Their bravest will not stand. 
 
 But though his braves fast 'round him fall, 
 Not saber stroke nor musket ball 
 Has done the giant chief great harm; 
 To stay the flight still strong his arm, 
 
 And strong his voice and heart. 
 The rallying foe are closing 'round. 
 The musketeers are giving ground. 
 When in the fray the chargers bound, 
 
 The dusky masses part. 
 
 As through the mass the horsemen bore, 
 There waked again the musket's roar. 
 And terror stricken more and more. 
 Back through the gate the Indians pour 
 
 In dense and struggling tide. 
 But ere the whites could follow through. 
 
COFACHIQUI. 81 
 
 Up sprang the barricades anew, 
 Unceasing still the missiles iiew 
 
 From the high wall's loopholed side. 
 
 Again the crashing battle-ax 
 The barrier's oaken strength does tax; 
 In splintered ruin soon they fall, 
 And once again within the wall 
 
 Halberds and sabers go. 
 Thus back and forth the stubborn light 
 Was waged with brave and desperate might 
 From noon until an hour from night — 
 
 Unconquered still the foe. 
 
 Then to augment the 'minished band 
 Grasped every Indian woman's hand 
 Some weapon, club or spear or bow, 
 And dauntless met the saber's blow. 
 
 Each Spaniard held his hand 
 A moment, loth to sheath his sword 
 In woman's breast, but strove to ward 
 The blows the eager women poured. 
 
 But see! a blazing brand! 
 
 Like meteor Hashes torches whirled 
 
 And 'gainst the dry thatched roof were hurled. 
 
 And upward soon a dense smoke curled. 
 
 The writhing streaks of flame 
 Twined 'mid the smoke a moment low. 
 Then, gathering, burst in one broad glow. 
 And down the pitch-pine walls below 
 
 The fiery serpents came. 
 
82 . COFACHIQUI. 
 
 The stubborn foe who faced the flash 
 Of musket and the halberd's crash, 
 The gleaming saber's thrust and slash, 
 
 The steed's o'erpoweriug bound, 
 Saw with dismay this climax dread, 
 This fiery ruin 'round, o'erhead — 
 Each unhurt warrior turned and fled 
 
 To the dark woods around. 
 
 Though scores of Indi;ins dead and dying 
 In every street and ditch were lying, 
 Yet Soto of this victory won 
 Might well exclaim, "I am undone 
 
 With one such victory more!" 
 For of his men without a wound 
 Were few, and sixty-three were found 
 Upon that corpse-encumbered ground 
 
 Stretched lifeless in their gore. 
 
 But 'mid the dying and the dead 
 Lay Tascaluza's kingly head 
 And giant form? or had he fled 
 When came the final panic dread, 
 
 Though dauntless he before? 
 He was not there; whate'er befell 
 Him, death or flight, none there could tell; 
 None heard again his battle yell. 
 
 His form was seen no more. 
 
COFACHIQUl. 83 
 
 PAET VI. 
 
 DEATH AND BURIAL OF DE SOTO. 
 
 DEAD! dead! another great conquistador, 
 The hero first of Cnzco's famous fight 
 And many another fray — his fights all o'er. 
 A land of flowers and gold in fancy's sight — 
 Long, long he sought it, his ambition's hight 
 To conquer there a viceroy's poAver and fame. 
 He sought for streams whose beds witli gold were 
 
 bright. 
 And found no golden stream, but linked his name 
 To that vast stream whose bed of mire his grave be- 
 came. 
 
 The Mississippi ! river grand ! 
 
 No peer it has in any ^land. 
 
 Its early bright, unsullied flow, 
 
 Its wavelets rippling soft and low 
 
 On banks where rainbow pebbles gleam. 
 
 Still mingle in my boyhood's dream. 
 
 I 've loved along its sluggish sloughs, 
 
 When gently fell the evening dews, 
 
 To cast for greedy pike the bait 
 
 Or for the swarming wild ducks wait; 
 
 And oft when wild the western breeze 
 
 Swayed all its islands birchen trees, 
 
 I 've loved to launch the light bateau 
 
 And skimming o'er its white-caps row. 
 
 I 've seen it where its rise it takes 
 
 22 
 
84 COFACHIQUI. 
 
 'Mong Minnesota's smiling lakes 
 
 And o'er St. xlntoine's rapids sweep 
 
 Into its narrow vale and deep, 
 
 And mirror many a northern blulf-— [rough, 
 
 Here smooth turf slopes, there rocks piled 
 
 Now crags that loom like castles grand, 
 
 Then striped cliffs of rainbow sand — 
 
 With thick groves crowning many a crest 
 
 ( In June with vivid verdure dressed. 
 
 But bright v»dth gold and crimson blaze 
 
 Their leaves through mild October's haze. ) 
 
 I 've seen this vast and virgin flood 
 
 Polluted with Missouri's mud, 
 
 From far off plains and mountains torn 
 
 And down that boiling current borne; 
 
 And seen in turn this sullied flow 
 
 Pollute the lucent Ohio. 
 
 I 've seen its breast at midnight dark 
 
 Reflect the bomb-shell's fiery arc 
 
 And redden 'neath the fitful flash 
 
 Of cannon with continuous crash. 
 
 When long the Northern gunboats lay 
 
 Before grim Yicksburg's cliffs of clay. 
 
 I 've watched its broad, majestic flow 
 
 By the Crescent City sweeping slow 
 
 Where league on league the levees lie 
 
 With wares from every land piled high. 
 
 By th' ui^per Mississippi's side 
 
 The fair Winona loved and died 
 
 And Bed Wing stalked the hills in pride. 
 
 Here Black Hawk rnada his last brave stand 
 
COFACHIQUI. 85 
 
 In battle for his native land. 
 
 Adown these upper waters bright 
 
 Sped the canoe of birch bark light 
 
 Which bore the Jesuits, Joliet 
 
 And good Marquette, upon their way. 
 
 When dark the southern stream had rolled 
 
 A century o'er De Soto bold. 
 
 Not travel's tide nor trade's deep hum, 
 
 Nor cannon's crash nor roll of drum, 
 
 Nor whistles' shrill and startling scream, 
 
 Nor huge hulls urged by panting steam, 
 
 Which vex the mighty river's breast, 
 
 Shall e'er disturb De Sotio's rest. 
 
 To evening waned the sultry day 
 When Soto's poor, reduced array 
 Filed out from a dense gloomy wood 
 Which near the Mississippi stood. 
 Slow marched the sadly 'minished train 
 Out on the long and narrow plain 
 Which stretched along the river bank 
 And waved with wild grass thick and rank. 
 
 In Cancer twice had stood the sun, 
 Three winters frosts had come and gone 
 Since Soto 'round Mauvila's wall 
 Had seen so many comrades fall- 
 Two bitter years of toil, distress 
 And wandering in the wilderness. 
 The work sore disappointment wrought 
 Could hardly chill that heart so hot, 
 Or quench the proud, high spirit's flame; 
 
86 COFACHIQUI. 
 
 But all the ills of his hard lot 
 
 Had broken down that iron frame. 
 
 No more the saddle was his seat, 
 
 No more, while stirrups pressed his feet, 
 
 He felt his steed beneath him prance. 
 
 But lay he in rude ambulance. 
 
 In sorry plight the brilliant band 
 That sailed with him from Spanish strand. 
 The bearing proud and spirits high 
 AVere gone — instead the glance might spy 
 The wan, thin face and downcast eye. 
 Now shabby was each silken vest 
 In which the cavaliers were dressed. 
 In far worse plight, the footmen's dress 
 Hid hardly half their nakedness— 
 In many months of service worn, 
 In many a shred and tatter torn 
 By scraggy bush and bramble tliorn. 
 
 The armor which once gleamed so bright 
 
 In proud parade or bloody fight 
 
 Now red with rust, with sw^amp stains black. 
 
 No more the sunbeams mirrored back. 
 
 The silken flags of b'l'illiant hue 
 
 Which in the sea breeze gayly flew 
 
 In tatters now abandoned lay 
 
 In some dark swamp upon the way, 
 
 Or, furled their folds, soiled, bleached and torn. 
 
 As irksome burdens careless borne. 
 
 Of all the steeds that pranced so gay 
 
 Upon the beach of Tampa Bay 
 
COFACHIQUI. - 87 
 
 The gaunt, galled half that were not dead 
 Now plodded on with drooping head. 
 
 The weary men had marched for days 
 
 In difficult and devious ways, 
 
 By miry marshes often vexed, 
 
 By many a bayou's curves perplexed; 
 
 But now within their gaze at last 
 
 Spread out the Mississippi vast. 
 
 They saw the mighty current deep 
 
 Go seaward with majestic sweep, 
 
 And down that tide, broad, smooth and swift, 
 
 Each in some fancied bark did drift 
 
 To the tropic gulf whose blue waves bore 
 
 Them gayly from the Cuban shore. 
 
 The Spaniards camping near the bank 
 As toward the far horizon sank 
 The sun, beheld transmuted lie 
 The turbid stream to silver by 
 The sunbeams' potent alchemy — 
 
 The clouds as gold became 
 Or glowing rubies to the gaze 
 When touched by the last upward rays 
 
 From the hidden fount of flame. 
 But what were sunset's gorgeous dyes, 
 Or silver waters to the eyes 
 
 Of men worn out with care? 
 If they, unclad and starving, thought 
 Save of their hard and hapless lot, 
 And for the bright mirage cared aught, 
 'T was mockery of the wealth they sought. 
 
 Elusive as the air. 
 
88 COFACHIQUI. 
 
 For sorry cure for all tlieir ills 
 Were silver j)lains or ruby hills, 
 And small the power of gold to bless 
 The starved wretch in the wilderness. 
 Beside one day of life in Spain, 
 With vineyards sloping to the plain 
 From pastured hills to fields of grain, 
 Oh ! poor were El Dorado's gold, 
 Golconda's diamond wealth untold 
 And riches vast of Ophir old. 
 
 As gathered 'round the shades of night. 
 The Spaniards' bivouac fires gleamed bright. 
 Amid that strong but changeful glow 
 There stood a camp-hut small and low 
 Of plaited reeds and bison skin ; 
 Upon a bed of furs within 
 The Spanish leader dying lay. 
 His life by fevers worn away. 
 His sunken cheeks were ghastly pale, 
 His sunken eyes did wholly fail 
 Of that erst deep, determined light 
 Which oft had blazed in bloody fight. 
 Thin, shrunken, feeble lay the hand 
 Which once so w^ell the weighty brand 
 Or ponderous battle-ax had swung. 
 In feeble murmurs on his tongue 
 Faltered the voice that oft had pealed 
 In stern, strong shout on battle-field. 
 His last commands he gave: 
 
 " Hew out this night from the cypress tree 
 
COFACHIQUI. 89 
 
 A coffin heavy and strong for me ; 
 For before the light of another day, 
 'Neath yon river my body you must lay 
 
 Where none may find my grave; 
 That no teeth of wolf nor beak of croAv, 
 Nor the knife of the savage, brutal foe 
 
 De Soto's corpse shall mar; 
 But with my body I '11 link my name 
 To earth's grandest river, and thus my fame 
 
 Shall be borne to ages far, 
 And the mire of this vast stream shall ))e 
 Instead of a marble tomb to me." 
 
 De Soto changed his theme: 
 "Bear my dying love to my faithful wife; 
 She is dearer to me by far than life, 
 
 Or e'en than ambition's dream. 
 God i)ity that heart so strained and sore 
 That waits for me on the Cuban shore ; 
 It will break when the tidings come [and it did] 
 That its idol's form is forever hid 
 'Neath this turbid stream's eternal sweep. 
 So far away and so vast and deep." 
 
 Scarce could be heard the last words weak. 
 And then De Soto ceased to speak, 
 
 As though for failing breath. 
 One quivering gasp, one faintest sob, 
 And that strong heart had ceased to throb; 
 
 Victor at last was Death. 
 
 'T was the lone hour midway between 
 
 Sad midnight's gloom and morn's glad sheen; 
 
90 COFACHIQUI. 
 
 Above the eastern forest's rim 
 
 The shrunken moon through vapors dim 
 
 A weird and melancholy gleam 
 
 Cast on the woods, the plain, the stream. 
 
 By mingled moon- and camp-fire's light 
 
 Was done the last sad funeral rite. 
 
 Then six strong men the cofiin bore 
 
 In silence to the river shore. 
 
 A rude raft by the bank was moored — 
 
 Drift-logs with thongs of bark secured. 
 
 On this frail float the bearers placed 
 
 The coffin and embarked in haste 
 
 And pushed it from the river side 
 
 With pole and paddle stoutly plied. 
 
 Advantage of an eddy ta'en. 
 
 The middle waters soon they gain. 
 
 And push the coffin overboard. 
 
 In armor clad and girt with sword, 
 
 In greenwood shroud weighted with stone, 
 
 Down goes De Soto to his lone, 
 
 Dark bed for evermore; 
 While the six bearers make their way 
 Against the current as they may 
 
 To the camp upon the shore. 
 
 Despite the watchful picket chain 
 
 And guards who paced their beats in vain, 
 
 One unsuspected Indian eye 
 
 De Soto's funeral did espy — 
 
 The eye of one who long had seen 
 
 With growing satisfaction keen 
 
 The toil-worn Spaniards day by day 
 
COFACHIQUI. 91 
 
 Sink clown upon their weary way; 
 And when he saw his bitterest foe 
 Phinge down to lie forever low 
 Beneath this gloomy water's flow, 
 He deemed the remnant's speedy fate 
 Was sure enough e'en for his hate, 
 And naught was left that he should care 
 Life's galling burden more to bear. 
 His son, the flower of all his pride, 
 Slain fighting bravely by his side, 
 Slain by an escopeta ball 
 Behind Mauvila's wooden wall. 
 With power, home and kindred gone. 
 Naught left in life to lean upon. 
 
 A cypress tree-trunk large and lone, 
 
 Long since by tempests overthrown, 
 
 Reached from the bank out far and low 
 
 Above the mighty currents flow. 
 
 Out on this trunk as careless trod 
 
 The chief as though the way were broad. 
 
 Then wildly on the night did ring 
 
 The death song of the Lidian king. 
 
 And first in boastful phrases told 
 
 The hunter and the warrior bold 
 
 Of feats in chase and battle done 
 
 And many a bloody victory won. 
 
 Then mingled in the boastful song 
 
 The strains of woe o'erpowering strong; 
 
 Though pride would fain have hid the grief 
 
 Unworthy of an Lidian chief, 
 
 And dark despair that still outbroke, 
 
 24 
 
92 COFACHIQUI. 
 
 Though apathy strove hard to choke, 
 As northern torrents black with mud 
 Rend the strong ice at springtime flood. 
 Then Tascaluza's dirge-like chant 
 
 Rose to a battle scream; 
 That giant form so deathly gaunt 
 
 Plunged far into the stream. 
 The waters with a ripi^ling moan 
 
 O'er the plumed head did close. 
 Both in one grave, deep, vast and lone. 
 
 Lay those two leader foes. 
 
 It scarcely needs these rhymes to tell 
 AVhat every reader guesses well, 
 That when the Spaniards' princess slave 
 And with her young Atcamba brave 
 With one quick dash their 'scape made good 
 Through water deep and tangled wood. 
 Successfully their way they made 
 Back from the Tensaw's gloomy glade 
 
 To the Tronatisca'sside; 
 And that ere long they had been there 
 AVas Cof achiqui wise and fair 
 
 Brave young Atcamba's bride; 
 That many were their happy years. 
 Unclouded by the woes and fears 
 
 The ruthless Spaniards gave; 
 Nor dreamed they of the distant day 
 AVhen, e'en their children's children gray 
 
 Long sleeping in the grave. 
 The Anglo-Saxon stern should come, 
 With ax and plow or gun and drum. 
 To rend their remnant from their home 
 On distant western plains to roam; 
 Less cruel than the Spaniard's hate, 
 Liexorable, yet, as fate. 
 
 THE END. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
PREFACE TO MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 Some of the following poems were written during 
 the last year of the civil war and the years immedi- 
 ately succeeding, and are to be considered accordingly. 
 
 The poem on Victorio was written in the region 
 through which he raided, and is a literal narrative of 
 the exploits and death of that famous chief. 
 
THE SOLDIER LAD'S VISION. 
 
 WATCHING on the picket lonely, 
 No companion with me only 
 My tried musket, while the stilly 
 Night hangs o'er me dark and chilly. 
 O'er me pass the dark hours slowly, 
 Crouching 'neath the bare shrubs lowly. 
 From the far reserve come ringing 
 Merry tones and voice of singing. 
 Where the bivouac fires burn brightly 
 Comrades' laughter echoes lightly. 
 But not all of mirth and gladness 
 Theirs alone is while chill sadness 
 In its sable robe enshrouds me 
 As this winter night o'erclouds me. 
 
 What to me that I have waited 
 Through the long hours danger-freighted? 
 Like the rose on icy mountain, 
 Or the bright, refreshing fountain 
 In the desert, comes in seeming. 
 As it were, in happy dreaming. 
 Pictured lifelike, clear and truthful. 
 Comes a lovely face and youthful; 
 And those loved features' gladness 
 Charms away my night and sadness. 
 And that visioned face is near me 
 Ever, and full oft to cheer me. 
 Softly framed in brown hair curling, 
 Smiles upon me from the swirling 
 Battle-cloud, or in the cheerful 
 
96 A VALENTINE. 
 
 Bivouac fire I see the tearful, 
 Saddened eyes and bosom heaving, 
 As when dearest friends are leaving 
 Death to face. With thoughts of beauty. 
 Is the rugged way of duty 
 Filled; and on me daily, nightly, 
 Beam those visioned features brightly. 
 As the white foam on the current 
 Of the dark and turbid torrent, 
 Float on memory's river cheerless 
 Thoughts of one — my loved one peerless. 
 Ne'er they leave me as they found me, 
 But their influence around me 
 Casts a spell, pure, deep and holy, 
 Which, as months of absence slowly 
 Grow to years, itself is growing. 
 Like the river onward flowing. 
 And that s^jell doth ever strengthen 
 As the leagues between us lengthen. 
 To my chilled heart it is warmer 
 Than a cordial, more than armor 
 Strengthens me in each endeavor 
 Foul temptation's bonds to sever 
 And with spirit still undaunted. 
 Though by fiend-like shadows haunted, 
 Onward tread the way before me. 
 Danger 'round and darkness o'er me. 
 
 A VALENTINE. 
 
 LET it not, dear girl, off'end thee 
 That a tale of love I send thee 
 
A VALENTINE. 97 
 
 On the white wings of this fleeting 
 
 Missive in the lieu of meeting; 
 
 For thou knowest whose this day is 
 
 And the saint who they do say is 
 
 The blind archer's coadjutor 
 
 In the cause of suit or suitor, 
 
 And what custom folly covers 
 
 Of green youths and tongue-tied lovers. 
 
 "Yet who's this," perhaps thou 'It query, 
 "Who my patience seeks to weary?" 
 One who 's sojourned long 'mid strangers, 
 Sojourned too 'mid toils and dangers. 
 All the world are strangers to me. 
 Save a few, all think me gloomy, 
 Cold and distant, all unwitting 
 Of life's forms around me flitting. 
 
 When the Northmen trod the sandy 
 
 Banks of turbid Rio Grande 
 
 And despairing Santa Ana 
 
 Saw the banner Mexicana 
 
 Quail before their battle-chorus, 
 
 Wounded left in Matamoros 
 
 Was a brave Americano. 
 
 Nursed him then the tender memo 
 
 Of a Mexic senorita; 
 
 And he in his convalescence 
 
 Won the heart of Juanita 
 
 And her father's acquiescence — 
 
 AVon the proud Creole's daughter; 
 
 To his northern home he brought her — 
 
98 A VALENTINE. 
 
 Left the yellow Rio Grande, 
 Banks mesquit' -fringed, low and sandy, 
 Came to where Wisconsin's hills 
 Feed Mis'sippi with their rills. 
 Mirrored on her bright breast lie, 
 O'er them spread the dark-blue sky. 
 There they dwelt till life was ended — 
 Well their diverse natures blended. 
 Full of strange, opposed sensations 
 Was their child, born of two nations; 
 And it seemed two natures ever 
 In him strove and could not sever. 
 Cool the steady Saxon current, 
 Quick and hot the Spanish torrent. ' 
 Like the rushing, boiling fountains 
 In the snow-capped Madre mountains, 
 On to love and hate was urging 
 That hot blood within him surging; 
 But a coldness stern and passive 
 As the sierra's summits massive, 
 Shrouding all the surface ever. 
 Hid that heat but chilled it never. 
 
 Thus together strive and mingle 
 Spirits twain in my life single. 
 In the northland I remember 
 'Neath the low sun of December 
 That the deep and rapid river 
 Flowed as deep and swift as ever 
 Though 'twas hid by ice above it 
 Hard and cold as skaters love it 
 When they skim like winged swallows 
 
A VALENTINE. 99 
 
 Faster than the north wind follows, 
 While beneath the current flowing 
 Deep and hidden, little knowing, 
 Little recking, little heeding 
 Of the forms above it speeding. 
 Thus my tide of feelings surging, 
 Unseen forces onward urging; 
 Deep and dark as mountain torrent, 
 But yet silent is their current. 
 
 But a time there cometh ever. 
 It has failed or will fail never. 
 When the ice is all liquescent 
 And dark forests are frondescent 
 'Neath the touch of the enchanting, 
 Silent sunbeams, downward slanting; 
 And the charm the while enhances 
 As th' enchanter north advances. 
 
 Oh ! thou couldst by thy enchanting 
 Presence banish all my haunting 
 Winter, and thy smile endearing 
 Would be like the summer cheering — 
 Like the sun the tropic nearing. 
 Though not void of high ambition, 
 Yet my highest hope's fruition 
 Would be that thy light might ever 
 Cheer me in life's each endeavor, 
 Dawning now while February 
 Nights are with you spreading fairy 
 Bowers on windows, jewels sparkling 
 Like the stars at night's cold darkling, 
 
100 THE BATTLE OF NASHVILLE. 
 
 In the springtime growing stronger, 
 As the days grow brighter, longer, 
 Stronger still when summer 's present 
 And June roses are florescent. 
 Knowing thence no night's cessation, 
 Winter's trope or aberration 
 Till earthly scenes change to supernal 
 Where joy and love are both eternal. 
 
 THE BATTLE OF NASHVILLE. 
 
 THE blue-coats of Sherman had marched to the 
 sea 
 And the rebels with Hood thought their pathway free 
 To the land where the wealth of the Northmen lay, 
 For their leader had sworn that ere New Year's day 
 Their flag should float and their camp-fires glow 
 Mirrored bright on the breast of Ohio's flow. 
 O'er the Tennessee all their horsemen swarmed, 
 On its hither bank fast their footmen formed. 
 And on toward the gleam of the polar star 
 Their columns pressed and their files stretched far. 
 O'er Pulaski's hills and through Linwood's vale 
 Wound the blackened path of their broad war trail, 
 And the blue-clad columns were backward pressed 
 Till at last they stood on the lofty crest 
 Of the hills which loom 'round Columbia town 
 And with trenches, bastions and guns did frown. 
 But in vain the trenches their lightning flashed, 
 And in vain the bastions thundered and crashed 
 To stay the march of the rebel horde. 
 And over the river the gray-coats poured. 
 
THE BATTLE OF NASHVILLE. 101 
 
 ' Gainst the shallow trenches and walls of clay 
 Where the Union army in waiting lay, 
 At Franklin, the foemen dashed and broke 
 Like the stormy waves 'gainst the walls of oak. 
 And the uniforms which the clay mire strewed 
 Were of homespun gray or butternut-hued. 
 And they scattered lay like the harvest sheaves, 
 While gold-starred collars and gilt-trimmed sleeves, 
 The sergeant's chevrons and captain's bars 
 And many a colonel's silver stars 
 Lay in mire beside the jackets coarse 
 Of the conscript men of the rebel force. 
 
 But at last the city our lines enfold 
 
 And they stand at bay in a stern stronghold. 
 
 The smoke of camp-fires was mingled high 
 
 In the murky air of the wintry sky [brown 
 
 With the wreaths that curled from the house-tops 
 
 Which lined the streets of the 'leaguered town. 
 
 And the rebel lines in a crescent grand 
 
 Swept 'round on the south to the Cumberland, 
 
 And their flanks came down to the river's flow 
 
 Far above the city and far below. 
 
 The days of December were gliding past; 
 Came the fourteenth night of the night at last. 
 'Neath the wintry sweep of the northern gale 
 The earth had been locked in an icy mail. 
 But a milder breeze from the far gulf shore 
 Had unlocked the fetters of frost once more, 
 And again the hill-tops were bare and brown. 
 While a dense fog hung over river and town. 
 
102 THE BATTLE OF NASHVILLE. 
 
 Then the scattered camps came the order through: 
 
 " Fill each cartridge-box, fill it up anew, 
 
 And ready — be ready ere morning light, 
 
 For the fight must come ere another night." 
 
 As along the camp streets the warning went. 
 
 The lights gleamed forth from each lowly tent. 
 
 Then, when all prepared, sank the men to sleep 
 
 And the camp was hushed in a silence deep. 
 
 And in darkness lay save the watch-fire's light 
 
 As it struggled up through tlie misty night. 
 
 Ere the old church clock tolled the hour of three, 
 
 On the morning air rang the reveille, 
 
 And the camp-fires glowed thro' the mist-cloud gray 
 
 Like a presage red of that bloody day. 
 
 Ere the gray cloud rolled from the city's breast, 
 Out at Negley fortress the blue-coats pressed. 
 In a living torrent the troops poured by: 
 There were massive columns of infantry 
 With their slanting guns, then the troopers rode 
 With a clanking saber and jingling goad 
 At each one's side and on each one's heel — 
 On the sloping hillside their squadrons wheel. 
 Then the heavy wheels of the bright brass guns, 
 And the ordnance trains, and the dark caissons. 
 And the limbers roll; and each iron tire 
 Grates harshly down in the gravelly mire. 
 
 Then the battle came. First the quick, sharp crack 
 From each skirmisher in the front came back. 
 While at intervals came a heavy bang! 
 And its deep bass notes in the concert rang. 
 
THE BATTLE OF NASHVILLE. 103 
 
 Then a rattling roll from the infantry, 
 
 And the clanging sweep of the cavalry, 
 
 And the fierce deep throbs of artillery; 
 
 With their mingled echoes the ridges rang, 
 
 And the iron cones and the minies sang, 
 
 As with rallying cheers 'mid the deepening crash 
 
 The long blue lines of the Northmen dash 
 
 'Gainst the motley ranks of the clay-hued host. 
 
 Like the ocean waves on the sandy coast. 
 
 Dim and low o'er the hills shone the sinking sun 
 When the fiercest charge of the fight was done. 
 With a swarming shout came the fearful shock, 
 As when breakers swell on the fast-bound rock. 
 And the high stone walls that the broad road hem 
 Were but feeble barriers the tide to stem; 
 For the rebels quailed and their fire grew tame 
 As the fierce, wild rush of the Northmen came. 
 
 With no foe in front, tjien our boys looked 'round 
 To see if their comrades were gaining ground. 
 To the left the ranks of the foemen gray 
 Were all broken and fast were drifting away, 
 Like the flying clouds by the west breeze riven 
 When the blue sky gleams through their rifts at even. 
 But away to the right where the grand hills rose 
 There the foe fell back 'neath the heavy blows; 
 But their ranks were stubborn and broken not, 
 Although beaten and torn by the howling shot. 
 There the bullets hissed and the shells shrieked nigh 
 Like a demon troop on a revel high. 
 As the rifles cracked sharp, the white wreaths curled, 
 
 27 
 
104 SHILOH. 
 
 'Round each cannon's mouth fast the war-cloud swirl'd, 
 And the wreathing clouds from the bursting shells 
 Scattered lightning out from their misty cells, 
 And their jagged missiles were downward hurled 
 As their fleecy folds in the blue air curled. 
 
 Then the twilight came, and the cannon's glare. 
 Seeming angry and red through the dusky air, 
 For a time lit up the dark ridge's crest; 
 Then the wintry darkness hushed all to rest. 
 
 SHILOH. 
 
 QUIET were the camps at even, 
 In the woods of Tennessee, 
 Outward from the dark, deep river 
 
 Spread through vale, o'er hill and lea. 
 Curled the smoke-wreaths from their camp-fires 
 
 'Mid the tents so low and white. 
 On the eve before the sabbath. 
 
 On the eve of Shiloh's fight. 
 Darkness came. No sound was wafted 
 
 To the pickets clad in blue — 
 None but when the dark woods echoed 
 
 To the rattle of tattoo. 
 Morning came. The darkness vanished 
 
 From the bosom of the earth. 
 Rose the sun, and time had given 
 
 To a day of slaughter birth. 
 
 Through the quiet air come crashing 
 Rattling volleys, sharp and clear. 
 
SHILOH. 105 
 
 And the pickets, backward driven 
 
 By the rebel hosts, appear. 
 Onward come the rebel columns. 
 
 With their lines of slanting guns, 
 Till all 'round one lone division 
 
 Sulphurous fire bright-flashing runs. 
 As the breath of black tornadoes 
 
 Rends the forests of the oak, 
 So that rush of desperadoes 
 
 Through the lines of Prentiss broke. 
 Backward on the ranks of Sherman 
 
 Were our shattered fragments pressed. 
 Backward all the long day struggling, 
 
 Till the sun sank to the west. 
 Broken, our men, and exhausted 
 
 Were; in front a swarming foe. 
 And behind the deep, wide river — 
 
 Then the bravest hearts sank low. 
 
 Oh! how sweet then seemed the boorr»ing 
 
 To the wearied Union men, 
 Of the thunder-bearing gunboats, 
 
 Shaking river, hill and glen. 
 Full soon had the swarming rebels 
 
 Cause to fear each murderous gun 
 Of the staunch and grim old Tyler 
 
 And the black-hulled Lexington. 
 But at last the darkness lowered 
 
 And the blood-red day was o'er, 
 And Grant's broken army cowered 
 
 Closely by the river shore. 
 But amid the mantling darkness 
 
106 SHILOH. 
 
 Came the ranks of Buell's men 
 
 And amid the beating rain-floods 
 
 Formed the broken lines again. 
 
 Slowly dawned the gloomy morning 
 
 And again began the fray, 
 And again upon us urging 
 
 Came those triple lines of gray. 
 Yelling, down there came upon us, 
 
 Charging out from sulphurous screens, 
 Came the "Louisiana Tigers," 
 
 Fiery footmen of Orleans. 
 Up our brigadier came dashing, 
 
 "Light of battle" in his eye, 
 And above the cannon crashing 
 
 Eose his voice so shrill and high: 
 " Never quail before these devils, 
 
 Be ye heroes every one ! 
 Let your country read in story 
 
 What Wisconsin men have done !" 
 Thus cried the Kentucky colonel, 
 
 "Charge !" the steady ranks advanced. 
 Never quailing, though around them 
 Grape shot shrieked and lightnings glanced; 
 Blue waves capped with sparkling bubbles, 
 
 Point of steel was every one. 
 For a bayonet was bristling ' 
 
 On the point of every gun. 
 
 Won at the day at last, but thickly 
 
 Strewn o'er all that fatal space, 
 Rebel bars and Union blouses, 
 
SHILOH. 107 
 
 Jackets rough and gilded lace. 
 There the stalwart, fair-skinned Norseman, 
 
 With his yellow hair blood-dyed, 
 Lay beside the swarthy Indian 
 From Superior rolling wdde. 
 Close the men of Indiana 
 
 By the Texan Kangers lay. 
 And the Zou'ves of Crescent City 
 
 By the men of Iowa. 
 Bravely fought both North and Southron, 
 
 But in all those ranks that day. 
 Sternest stood those three Wisconsin 
 
 Eegiments amid the fray; 
 Where was raised the bannered Badger 
 
 On the silken field of blue. 
 While the "Flowery Flag" beside it 
 
 With its gorgeous colors flew — 
 Gleamed amid the dun cloud rolling 
 
 As upon the frowning crest 
 Of the eastern storm-cloud darkening, 
 
 When the gateway of the west 
 Opes to Phoebus' golden chariot. 
 
 Then, to stay the threatened doom, 
 Gleams the seven-hued bow of promise 
 
 On that savage front of gloom. 
 But no sign of peace or promise 
 Brought the flag of triple hue. 
 But the flame-winged bolts of vengeance 
 Fast around, beneath it slew. 
 
108 SNOW ROBES. 
 
 SNOW ROBES. 
 
 MUEKY clouds were thickly vailing 
 AVintry skies, and slowly failing 
 Was the gray light, like a weary 
 Life, though brief yet cold and dreary. 
 Brown and bare the hills were looming, 
 Dark woods at their feet were glooming. 
 Gloom grew deeper, shadows blended 
 Earth and sky, though day not ended, 
 And the air was like a boundless 
 Ocean, sullen, sunless, soundless. 
 
 From the upper deep descending, 
 
 Feathery flakes came slowl}^ wending, 
 
 And their coming ne'er was ceasing. 
 
 Still their numbers were increasing, 
 
 Till the dark air caught faint brightness 
 
 From those crystals' wondrous whiteness. 
 
 Delicate and wondrous airy, 
 
 Pure as heaven and light as fairy, 
 
 Whiter than the lilies blooming, 
 
 E'en though born from storm-clouds glooming; 
 
 Millions fall the earth to cover. 
 
 Thousands o'er the dark stream hover — 
 
 Vanish then. Did mortals ever 
 
 On Time's dark and rushing river 
 
 End a life so brief and stainless 
 
 By a death so pure and painless? 
 
 Silence hung deep and unbroken 
 
SNOW ROBES. 109 
 
 'Mid the forest arches oaken; 
 Branches hung without vibration, 
 Not the slightest undulation; 
 All devoid of animation; 
 Nature's breast had no pulsation; 
 Through the storm-night long and dreary 
 Silent lay, entranced and weary. 
 Seemed the sky above travailing 
 And the light from star-eyes failing. 
 
 Slowly came at last the dawning, 
 Night and clouds like sable awning 
 Slowly drew their heavy shadows 
 From the forests and the meadows. 
 Sat the day-king crowned with burning 
 On the golden throne of morning, 
 Flung his gems of ruby glory 
 Through the morning air frost-hoary. 
 Oh! 't was wondrous — such celestial 
 Beauty in this dull, terrestrial 
 World to see, as had been given 
 Us a picture here of heaven. 
 And to reproduce that vision. 
 As it seemed, that scene elysian, 
 Every color of the painter 
 Would be duller, colder, fainter, 
 Than the light on wintry ocean 
 'Mid the tempest's black commotion. 
 For the seer's imagination 
 Or the poet's inspiration 
 Ne'er conceived or told the story 
 Of such purity and glory; 
 
110 A FAREWELL. 
 
 For each shrub and trailing bramble, 
 
 Vines that 'mong the broad limbs ramble, 
 
 All the twigs and branches bending, 
 
 Every brown leaf thence depending, 
 
 And the brown hills rising steeply, 
 
 All were wrapped entirely, deeply, 
 
 In a mantle purer, fairer 
 
 Than e'er wore the human wearer. 
 
 Seemed the forests' mural edges 
 
 And the hills' steep, rocky ledges 
 
 Like the gleaming, awful whiteness 
 
 Of the "great white throne" of brightness. 
 
 Those white robes so dazzling splendid, 
 
 Wrapped o'er all the branches bended, 
 
 Were, through all their meshes, spangled 
 
 With the sunlight they entangled. 
 
 But alas! of short duration 
 
 Was the trees' transfiguration. 
 
 Came Ihe south wind 'round them wooing, 
 
 With its wanton hands undoing 
 
 All the icy clasps 't were binding 
 
 Those white mantles 'round them winding, 
 
 And they, doffing their bright dress. 
 
 Stood as erst in nakedness. 
 
 A FAREWELL. 
 
 FAREWELL to Clarvand's ville and 
 vale 
 And hills of emerald hue. 
 Let me a dirge's long, sad wail. 
 
A FAREWELL. HI 
 
 Condense into " adieu !" 
 'Kound that dear spot, home of my youth, 
 
 Each rock and brook and tree. 
 As photographed with life and truth, 
 
 In memory I see. 
 
 Each white cot like a pure pearl gleams, 
 
 In settings rich half hid; 
 The dell an emerald casket seems. 
 
 The summer sky its lid. 
 Far reaching from the wooded dell 
 
 In waves of varied green 
 The prairies roll and grain waves swell 
 
 And flash like lances' sheen. 
 
 Upon the rocky ledges low 
 
 Half hid by trailing vines. 
 Like dark plumes o'er their brows there grow 
 
 The melancholy pines. 
 Their leafy hands in gay salute 
 
 The graceful aspens toss 
 As zephyrs pass; all others mute 
 
 Hang heavy with their gloss. 
 
 Why should I leave my place of birth 
 
 And old acquaintance too. 
 And say farewell for aye on earth 
 
 To whom I 've loved so true? 
 The traitor face and selfish heart 
 
 In yon fair homes are found, 
 Well skilled to play the double part 
 
 And smile on whom they wound. 
 
112 A FAREWELL. 
 
 Must youth's companions be forgot? 
 
 Have ties like these no worth. 
 Is friendship but an idle thought, 
 
 And are none true on earth? 
 Trust not fair words and clasping hands, 
 
 Of constant hearts ne'er dream, 
 For hearts are shifting like the sands 
 
 In dark Missouri's stream. 
 
 " Love is a gift which God has given," 
 
 Says Scotia's brightest bard, 
 "To man alone beneath the heaven" — 
 
 A gift to keep and guard. 
 If so, O God, who didst impart. 
 
 Thy gift of woe retake; 
 Give me the mountain's granite heart 
 
 That tempests cannot shake ; ^ 
 
 That kiss of dew, with soft, bright eyes. 
 
 Or tears of changeful rain. 
 Or tempting smiles of sunny skies 
 
 Ne'er move with joy or pain. 
 'T were better thus than like the vale. 
 
 As seemeth now my heart. 
 When gloomy clouds ride on the gale 
 
 And zigzag lightnings dart; 
 
 When drear and wild the dark night lowers 
 And beating rain-floods pour, 
 
 And turbid waves sweep down the flowers 
 That decked the banks before. 
 
 Oh! why, since they were but to wound. 
 
A FAEEWELL. 113 
 
 Why were quick feelings given? 
 Since, when heart's ties seem firmest bound, 
 They may be rudely riven. 
 
 I shall recall in distant climes 
 
 The past with fond regret, 
 For dear to me are those old times 
 
 And old acquaintance yet. 
 What strangers e'er can fill the place 
 
 Of those my boyhood knew? 
 Where find the peer of that fair face 
 
 Of one loved long and true ? 
 
 Away such thoughts ! my heart is dead, 
 
 O'er clouded Hope's bright star; 
 Henceforth my wandering feet shall tread 
 
 In tropic lands afar, 
 Where tremble to the earthquake's strokes 
 
 The mountains of Peru, 
 Where wave in lieu of Clarvand's oaks 
 
 The palms of Otafu; 
 
 Where broad Pacific's tropic tides 
 
 Embrace the island world 
 And from Mendana's mountain sides 
 
 The swift cascades are hurled. 
 Would I could find in South Sea waves 
 
 Or Andes caverns deep 
 For my dark memories darker graves 
 
 Where they might ever sleep. 
 
 But two and twenty years have cast 
 Their shadows on my head. 
 
114 ON A PHOTOGRAPH. 
 
 Yet all life's joy seems in that past 
 So brief and dear and dead. 
 
 Farewell to Clarvand's vale and ville 
 And summer skies so blue; 
 
 Each leafy glen and sparkling rill, 
 A long, a last adieu ! 
 
 ON A PHOTOGRAPH. 
 
 DEAR, gay, good-natured friend, I got 
 Your portrait, by the sunbeams wrought 
 So deftly, with much pleasure. 
 Henceforth your pleasant pictured face 
 Shall in my album hold high place. 
 More prized than royal treasure. 
 
 And oft my eyes shall on it rest 
 AVhen I am gloomy and depressed 
 
 And it shall bring me cheer. 
 How the mysterious light and shade. 
 So curiously blent have made 
 
 Your very semblance here. 
 
 Though years absence had gone by. 
 To see at will, with mental eye, 
 
 Your face would not be hard; 
 Yet I shall bless the magic light 
 That has transferred your presence bright 
 
 And fixed it to this card. 
 
 And as this card before me lies, 
 What varied visions mingling rise! 
 
ON A PHOTOGRAPH. 115 
 
 What thoughts in tumult throng : 
 For oh ! the years since we have met, 
 When measured by our friendship, yet 
 
 If few, seem ages long. 
 
 How many scenes remembered lie 
 In that short past the stranger eye 
 
 Would coldly look upon ! 
 Which to the stranger heart would bring 
 No memories pleasant as the spring. 
 
 Recall no pleasures gone; 
 
 ^Events which told would trifling seem, 
 Unmeaning as a broken dream 
 
 To all but us on earth; 
 But by association yet 
 Can fill us with subdued regret 
 
 Or move to smiles and mirth. 
 
 They from my mind shall ne'er depart, 
 Their memory lingers in my heart 
 
 As songs that loved ones sing 
 Still linger in the ravished ear. 
 Or sweet perfumes that many a year 
 
 'Round treasured keepsakes cling. 
 
 We 've trod as amateurs one stage. 
 Together seen the battle's rage 
 
 Cloud the high southern sun. 
 We 've danced full oft with the same gay girls. 
 Our hearts were snared by the same dark curls, 
 
 By the same bright eyes were won. 
 
 30 
 
116 ON A PHOTOGRAPH. 
 
 Then I recall that northern trip 
 We thought to end by taking ship 
 
 To mix in Cuban strife. 
 We sadly bade the world adieu 
 (That is to say, its chosen few), 
 
 And "turned our backs on life." 
 
 We trod the northern knolls of sand, 
 We saw tall pines in close ranks stand 
 
 And foaming rapids sweep; 
 We crossed Black River's rushing tide 
 And saw Superior rolling wide 
 
 His icy waters deep. 
 
 We walked the city's bustling pave, 
 We rode the river's rippling wave 
 
 And paced the dark, foul deck. 
 We two trod many a weary mile, 
 But kept for mutual cheer a smile, 
 
 As though we did not reck. 
 
 When we employment vainly sought 
 And in our pockets change was not. 
 
 We shared the scant, dry crust; 
 Yet laughed and joked to hear "dead beats' 
 Who long had looked in vain for treats 
 
 Beg hard for drinks on trust, 
 
 We lay uncovered side by side 
 In Ashland's gloomy forests wide. 
 
 Cheered by the camp-fire's light. 
 The frozen, leaf -strewn ground our bed, 
 
ON A PHOTOGRAPH. 117 
 
 Our roof the stormy clouds o'er head 
 And cold the cheerless night. 
 
 We lay and talked of days long past, 
 Of days too happy far to last, 
 
 And hopes which now were fled; 
 Of failing aims and unreached ends. 
 Of distant loves and distant friends. 
 
 Some true, some false, some dead. 
 
 And as the visions memory brought 
 Appeared, our hearts swelled high and hot 
 
 Or sank with gloom oppressed. 
 Thus passed the cheerless night away 
 And dawned another gloomy day 
 
 Upon our broken rest. 
 
 Such, then, our mutual past has been — 
 What lies the future's vail within 
 
 Nor you nor I can tell. 
 If e'er again we '11 tread one way, 
 Or you, while I abroad still stray, 
 
 In Clarvand e'er shall dwell. 
 
 A thousand leagues now 'tween us lie, 
 For o'er me is the tropic sky. 
 
 Around the burning sand; 
 While you behold the wheat-fields' sheen, 
 The oak-groves and the corn-fields green 
 
 Of our fair northern land. 
 
 I wish you present happiness 
 If that in life's poor wilderness 
 
118 DECORATION DAY. 
 
 May glad a human heart, 
 And hope that in some better land 
 I '11 feel again your clasping hand 
 
 And ne'er thereafter part, 
 
 May God forget me at the last 
 If I forget you and the past 
 
 We have together spent. 
 True friend you 've been in darkest days, 
 This tribute of good-will and praise 
 
 For that to you is sent. 
 
 Success to you in Love's crusade. 
 And may you win your lovely maid 
 
 Despite that other fellow. 
 And now, my friend, I '11 write adieu. 
 Though often yet I hope to see you. 
 
 From, ever yours, Castello. 
 
 DECORATION DAY. 
 
 [Written for the Dedication of the Grant County, Wisconsin, Soldiers' 
 Monument.] 
 
 Bring the brightest flowers of our northern May, 
 O surviving comrades, to deck to-day 
 The memorial stones of the nation's dead; 
 Be the brightest words to their memory said. 
 That we may recall for a bright, brief time 
 Their achievements high and their fate sublime. 
 Let us then regret we can do no more. 
 That our flowers will fade ere the day is o'er. 
 Though our words were bright and as sweet as flowers. 
 
DECORATION DAY. 119 
 
 They would pass from mind with the passing hours. 
 
 They are dim in mind, all those years of dread, 
 As a vague, wild dream of the night that 's fled. 
 They are passing slowly from mental view, 
 All those missing forms in their garb of blue. 
 Let us make for them this an Easter day, 
 From the dead past's grave roll the stone away; 
 Let us sing as they used those old rallying rhymes, 
 Tell the old tales o'er of those strange, wild times 
 When the nation's life in the balance hung 
 And those precious lives in the scale were flung — 
 They were thrown and lost, but the land was saved. 
 
 On those marble shafts are the names engraved 
 Of the noble dead of Grant County's braves ; 
 But how many sleep in their distant graves ! 
 Some in lonely spots by the way were laid, 
 Or in cotton-fields where the camp was made; 
 Some in long, low ridges that dumbly tell 
 Where the fight was fiercest and hundreds fell. 
 Scores are sleeping now in one common grave, 
 And that grave unlettered and unmarked save 
 By the battle scars on the gray-green wood 
 Which amid the storm of shot sternly stood, 
 While the leaden cones, as they fiercely flew, 
 Carved the epitaphs of the men they slew. 
 Down by Vicksburg's cane-brakes and cliffs of clay, 
 'Mid the swamps and sand-hills 'round Mobile Bay, 
 From the Ozark hills to the swamp-stained flow 
 Of the broad Savannah through rice-fields low, 
 From the hights of Arlington, fortress-crowned, 
 
 31 
 
120 DECORATION DAY. 
 
 To the Texan prairies, these graves are found. 
 
 Were they slain blood — all those martyred ones — 
 'Mid the shock of steel and the flash of guns? 
 Did the slashing saber and musket ball 
 And the shattered shell fill the graves of all? 
 No; the weary marches and winter storms 
 Wore the life from out many youthful forms; 
 And disease in many a deadly shape 
 Slew its thousands who from the fight made 'scape; 
 And the silent sweep of miasma's breath 
 Brought a surer though a more lingering death 
 From the marshy rivers through all the South 
 Than the iron breath from the cannon's mouth. 
 
 In the canvas walls where the red flag waved 
 
 Men in weakness drooped or in fever raved. [days 
 
 How they moaned and pined through the long, long 
 
 In the stagnant air and the sun's fierce blaze ! 
 
 How they longed to dip fevered lip and hand 
 
 In some cool, bright spring of the far Northland ! 
 
 In the weary hours of their wearing pain, 
 
 Like the captive Jews on Assyria's plain, [night !" 
 
 When 't was morn they said, " Would to God 't were 
 
 But at night they said, "Would to God 'twere light !" 
 
 And those prison pens — oh! how poor and weak 
 
 Are the words we write and the words we speak 
 
 To relate that story so dark and long 
 
 Of unmeasured misery, deep, foul wrong! 
 
 Let us draw the vail, for I may not brook 
 
 For those deep, dark horrors a longer look. 
 
 'T was in part the ransom the brave boys paid 
 
 For the nation's life when their graves were made. 
 
DECOKATION DAY. 121 
 
 How despondence weighed on the drooping men 
 
 And the homesick boys who should ne'er again 
 
 See the homes they left when their hearts beat high 
 
 And they saw all fair where their way should lie. 
 
 In their youthful fancy 't was but to go 
 
 Far away from our northern land of snow 
 
 To the "sunny South" with its soft, bright glow, 
 
 Where the orange trees and magnolias blow. 
 
 'T was to march away to a land of fame 
 
 There to win in battle a deathless name, 
 
 Where our heroes fought in a gorgeous throng 
 
 And all was romance and battle song. 
 
 But they found these pictures that fancy drew 
 
 Soon were toned with lines of a darker hue; 
 
 Smeared with blood and dust were the blouses blue 
 
 And the music hushed when the fierce shells flew; 
 
 For they went not forth from their boyhood's home 
 
 In a land of glory and song to roam. 
 
 But to hunger and thirst, and the pestilence' breath. 
 
 And privations sore, and to danger and death. 
 
 Say, how many went nor returned again? 
 
 There went forth two thousand two hunded men 
 
 From old Grant; one-third, as those marbles tell. 
 
 In the four long years of the war-time fell. 
 
 Though their graves are few that are with us here, 
 
 And their names are many, this thought shall cheer: 
 
 There are other hearts that are loyal too, 
 
 There are willing hands, there are memories true. 
 
 That will deck the graves which are far away 
 
 With the southern roses this selfsame day. [dressed 
 
 And when these Avhite shafts have with flowers been 
 
122 CENTENNIAL. 
 
 And the kindest thoughts for the dead expressed, 
 We must leave them then in their graves' long rest 
 To our Father, who knoweth and doeth best. 
 
 CENTENNIAL POEM. 
 
 [Written for the Centennial Celebration at Blooraington, Wisconsin.l 
 
 A hundred years ! and now completes the hand 
 Upon the world's great clock a cycle grand. 
 Marked with great deeds; yet in the ages' flight, 
 A tale that 's told — a brief watch in the night. 
 In Nature's endless round it is no more 
 Than one short day, with many such before. 
 Successive seasons are but half hours, all [fall. 
 
 Marked by the snow-flake's and the rose leafs silent 
 
 But not with Nature's calm, unvarying plan 
 
 Events recurring mark the years of man; 
 
 But ever, as successive centuries pass. 
 
 More fitfiully and faster through the glass 
 
 Of human destiny still stream the sands; 
 
 Upon the human horologe the hands 
 
 Irregularly but still faster run. 
 
 Marking each era closed or each begun. 
 
 More frequent still and still with louder clang, [hang. 
 
 Peal forth the 'larum bells that in Life's watch-towers 
 
 A hundred years ! to-day we see 
 Full rounded up the century. 
 A glorious day ! Well have ye come 
 With roar of gun and roll of drum. 
 To honor with high jubilee 
 
CENTENNIAL. 123 
 
 The last day of the hundredth year 
 Since, rising over doubt and fear, 
 Our sires proclaimed our country free. 
 
 Now turn we back along Time's way — 
 Look back from this to that great day — 
 Along the Empire's westward track 
 Go from the Mississippi back 
 To that old Quaker city there 
 By the calm-gliding Delaware. 
 What means this tumult in the town? 
 The people thronging up and down 
 With eager words and restless pace? 
 In the rapt look on every face 
 The march of great events you trace. 
 Swells the low murmur of their speech 
 Like wave-beats on the distant beach. 
 Adown the length of Chestnut Street 
 And 'round the State House swell and beat 
 The human waves; within those walls 
 The strong men whom the country calls 
 To council hold their high debate 
 Whose close shall seal the land's great fate. 
 
 And here, strong leader 'mid the brave 
 Who 've chosen freedom or the grave, 
 Stands dauntless Adams. 'Mid the clash 
 Of stern debate his words outflash 
 Like glowing sparks from flint and steel. 
 Rekindling all the fear-quenched zeal 
 Of patriot hearts less brave and stout. 
 Reviving hope, dispelling doubt — 
 
 32 
 
124 CENTENNIAL. 
 
 For even here are many found 
 
 Alarmed to stand on such high ground 
 
 And hurl with such a lofty tone 
 
 Such challenge 'gainst proud England's throne 
 
 So, stubborn through the long debate, 
 
 They hang, a millstone's constant weight. 
 
 Upon the unbowed souls of those 
 
 Who 'd venture all, be 't win or lose. 
 
 Amid this clash of warring thought, 
 Forebodings chill, exhortings hot. 
 Is missed the tall, commanding form 
 Of him whose hand stirred up this storm. 
 Nor stayed to guide or quell it then. 
 Silent his voice whose magic pen 
 Had sketched in lines that flaming ran 
 The Greater Charter of the Eights of Man. 
 The mighty thoughts which crowding hung 
 Reluctant on th' unready tongue 
 Yet from his pen came clear and strong, 
 Endowed to live through ages long. 
 
 'T is done ! The world-famed act is passed ! 
 
 The word is spoke! the die is cast! 
 
 Opposing doubts and fears give way, 
 
 Out rings each loud, approving "Aye !" 
 
 The words defiant, high and bold 
 
 Echoing around the chamber rolled. 
 
 Nor could that mighty impulse long 
 
 Be pent in walls, though thick and strong. 
 
 E'en as electric currents run, 
 
 Or light-waves rolling from the sun. 
 
CENTENNIAL. 125 
 
 So swiftly through the swaying masses 
 From heart to heart the impulse passes. 
 Their murmuring voices seemed before 
 Like dying waves upon a far-off shore; 
 But instant now the tumult grows, 
 As when the sudden tempest blows, 
 And breakers thunder wild and high 
 And screaming sea-birds o'er them fly. 
 And soon the clamor of the bells 
 The .joyous tumult grandly swells, 
 And yet a deeper, stronger note 
 Comes from the cannon's iron throat. 
 Nor is the jubilee at all 
 Checked by the night's descending pall. 
 From street and home, from hut and hall. 
 The bonfires bright, the tapers' light. 
 Flash out defiance to the night 
 And wrap in one broad, ruddy glare 
 The earth beneath, the upper air, 
 The waters of the Delaware. 
 
 This scene, so joyous and so bright. 
 Was but a transient gleam of light, 
 That, while the storm-clouds gathered black. 
 Through one small rift a moment shone. 
 And then the murky folds swept back. 
 Thrice blacker and more threat'ning grown. 
 Above the dark, foul fens of wrong 
 The storm of wrath had gathered long. 
 The waiting nations saw the flash, 
 World-wide and age-long rolled the crash 
 Of that first bolt at Lexington. 
 
126 CENTENNIAL. 
 
 Then smoked to heaven the blood of seven, 
 Too few for fight, too proud for flight — 
 
 Heroes and martyrs every one. 
 But soon for every dying moan 
 Their foes by scores in blood atone. 
 Down burst the gathered hate of years 
 Upon the cowering grenadiers, 
 From copse and wall the rifle ball 
 Aimed fair and true, vindictive flew; 
 The uniforms of gaudy hue. 
 Prone on the roadside or the plain. 
 Of blood and dust bore darker stain. 
 
 But blacker grew the war-storm's frown. 
 From Mystic's slope to Bunker's crown 
 Stretched long, low mounds of earth and hay 
 Behind the Yankee farmers lay. 
 The foemen's lines were lowg and fair, 
 'Mid golden lace and scarlet there. 
 Flashed bayonet and sword-blade bare. 
 AVith steady sweep they onward came — 
 A sudden burst of sulphurous flame 
 Fringed the low works with livid glow 
 And laid the bristling red ranks low, 
 As August's flame-winged hurricane 
 Sweeps down the ranked and bladed grain. 
 Thrice upward came the rallying foe. 
 Thrice blazed that fierce and deadly glow. 
 Then o'er the shot- torn parapets 
 Swarmed British swords and bayonets. 
 The farmers backward fighting went. 
 To them defeat and victory blent. 
 
CENTENNIAL. • 127 
 
 Driven out from Boston with defeat, 
 Then southward sailed the British fleet. 
 At Charleston through the long June day 
 Was barred the bellowing squadron's way 
 The war-ships bayed like bafiled dogs 
 Before the tough palmetto logs 
 Vainly and long; then they withdrew 
 With many a shattered hull and crew. 
 
 'Twas such successive triumphs gained 
 
 Which courage roused and hope sustained. 
 
 Dull were the patriot's heart and eye 
 
 Who could not in these things descry 
 
 That on his cause the hand divine 
 
 Had set its bright, approving sign. 
 
 Deep need had every heart and hand 
 
 In that immortal little band. 
 
 The sponsors of the newborn land, 
 
 For all the zeal that triumph fired 
 
 And all the strength success inspired; 
 
 High need for an auspicious hour 
 
 To challenge England's wrath and power. 
 
 Well for the infant nation then. 
 And well for Freedom and for men, 
 That the die was cast beyond recall 
 Ere was revealed what should befall; 
 For almost while the ink was wet 
 Upon the famous parchment yet, 
 Came swift disaster and disgrace — 
 The shameful flight, the ruthless chase. 
 The clanging horse-guards smiting swords 
 
 33 
 
128 CENTENNIAL. 
 
 From Beford's pass to Brooklyn's fords, 
 
 The savage Hessian's bayonet 
 
 In the blood of many a captive wet. 
 
 And then came AVhite Plains' bloody day, 
 
 The patriots ever giving way, 
 
 Surrender here and ther defeat, 
 
 O'er Jersey's hills the long retreat, 
 
 The quailing hearts and routed line 
 
 And i)anic flight at Brandywine, 
 
 The Carolinas overrun 
 
 By Tarleton fierce and Ferguson. 
 
 Humiliation deeper yet ^ 
 
 Came when the red cross-flag was set 
 
 Above old Independence Hall, 
 
 And British troops, with feast and ball, 
 
 A gay life in the city led 
 
 From which the patriot Congress fled. 
 
 While clad in rags and scantly fed. 
 
 The bleak hillside their cheerless bed, 
 
 When skies and fates both darkly frown. 
 
 At Valley Forge or Morristown 
 
 The remnants of the rebel band, 
 
 Still faithful to their down-trod land. 
 
 Shared in their leader's faith sublime, 
 
 Still hopeful for a better time. 
 
 But the dark night which 'round them lay 
 Gleamed with some promise of the daj'- 
 When Burgoyne's host laid down their arms 
 And scattered were Brant's savage swarms. 
 Boasting of conquest, sallied forth 
 
CENTENNIAL. 129 
 
 The invaders from tlie distant north. 
 Full gayly marched the scarlet ranks, 
 And swarming on their front and fianks 
 Danced in the breeze the plumed scalp-locks, 
 Flashed scalping knives and tomahawks. 
 The host swept on its conquering way, 
 But found, as day succeeded day. 
 Thick woods, wide swamps and brawling fords 
 AVere deadlier foes than guns and SAvords, 
 And toiling through the wilderness. 
 Full many a Briton, many a Hess, 
 AVho sank and died by the long way, 
 Uncoffined in the dark swamp lay. 
 Before the wasting Britons rose 
 A host of new and eager foes. 
 Came on New England's yeoman ranks 
 And farmers from the Hudson's banks^ 
 From Mohawk and Oswego came 
 Full many a borderman whose aim 
 Failed never. On his conquering (rack 
 The Briton now was driven back. 
 O'erwhelmed and crippled by defeat, 
 Too late he thinks him of retreat. 
 On front and flank the rifles flash, 
 Behind him close the cannon crash. 
 Borne down in fight, no chance for flight, 
 The truce-notes loud his bugles blow. 
 And soon, their useless arms laid low 
 And furled their banners' gaudy show, 
 March out the humbled captive foe. 
 
 The day which showed its earliest light 
 
130 CENTENNIAL. 
 
 When closed was Saratoga's fight, 
 At Yorktown in full splendor broke, 
 When cleared away the battle-smoke. 
 There proud Cornwallis, ranging free 
 Before from mountains to the sea, 
 Surprised found himself inhemmed 
 By foes the haughty lord contemned, 
 While roaring siege guns 'round him flashed, 
 And blazing shells about him crashed; 
 And closer still on every side 
 Pressed on the 'leaguering lines allied; 
 And day by day he saw advance 
 The gallant sons of sunny France; 
 New England's men were pressing near 
 And the Virginian mountaineer 
 Still nearer to the bastions crept 
 And with his fire the port-holes swept. 
 Then once again the truce-notes blew, 
 Above the works the white flags flew. 
 Like scarlet tide between its banks 
 (One fair and decked with lilies gold. 
 The other rock-bound, rough and bold), 
 From the black ruins slowly file 
 The captive hosts of Britain's isle. 
 And ground the arms they nevermore 
 Shall bear upon Columbia's shore. 
 
 'T is done ! Let Freedom's sons rejoice 
 O'er all the world with one glad voice. 
 In deed as erst in word 't is done. 
 And independence has been won. 
 
 We gather here to-day to celebrate 
 
CENTENNIAL. 131 
 
 A proclamation bold and true and great. 
 
 Grand words were they, by grander deeds made good, 
 
 By years of hardship, darkness, death and blood. 
 
 Our hearts are moved by tales of that old time, 
 
 Yet we, to-day, in this new age and clime. 
 
 With peopled leagues and crowded years between. 
 
 Can scarce connect it with the home-like scene. 
 
 We here not only celebrate the word 
 
 That on this day a century since was heard, 
 
 But strive to link the hundred years gone by 
 
 AVith the fnmiliar scenes which 'round us lie. 
 
 A century since and o'er this smiling land 
 Strode the red hunter or the warrior band; 
 With twanging bow and whirling tomahawk, 
 Warred the fierce Winnebago and the Sauk. 
 The Anglo-Saxon's colonizing tide 
 Had halted in Kentucky's forests wide. 
 And there the woodsman's ax or rifle's sound 
 Bang sharply o'er the Dark and Bloody Ground. 
 True sons of Freedom were these woodsmen bold; 
 The thunder of the distant war-storm rolled— 
 They heard, and built another Lexington 
 In memory of the spot where Freedom's war begun. 
 
 Not so the few rude settlers at Green Bay: 
 Through all the war they owned the British sway. 
 'T was in the year that formal peace was made. 
 When, for adventure and for Indian trade. 
 There came some hardy Gallic pioneers. 
 Of Empire's westward march th' advance couriers, 
 And once more on the Prairie of the Dog 
 
132 CENTENNIAL. 
 
 They built the cabins of the unhewn log, 
 And each provided with a dusky spouse, 
 And rifles, fish-lines, traps and wooden plows, 
 Engaged in farming, hunting, Indian trade. 
 But British soldiers manned the near stockade, 
 And here one might have heard at set of sun 
 The faint, far booming of their evening gun; 
 For five j^ears passed from Yorktown's glorious day, 
 Before this region passed from British sway. 
 Then from the West the red cross-flag withdrew 
 And o'er the Prairie fort the starry banner flew. 
 
 Decades passed on, the soldiers' dress-parade 
 By none but brave and trader was surveyed. 
 But not by these the waiting germs were sown 
 Whence all these fair communities have grown. 
 The first half of the century passed away 
 Amd still this region fair in native wildness lay. 
 
 But lo! the eager miners come. 
 
 Equipped with pick and spade, 
 And for the Empire at their backs 
 
 The first broad highway 's made. 
 In steamboats panting o'er the lakes 
 
 And struggling up the streams. 
 In white-topped wagons o'er the land. 
 
 Behind the slow ox-teams. 
 Lured by the gleam of the dark-bright ore, 
 
 The crowds come rushing in; 
 From Pennsylvania's mines of coal 
 
 And Cornwall's mines of tin; 
 And rough Missouri's mines of lead. 
 
CENTENNIAL. 133 
 
 Their steps the gray wolf scare; 
 The rattlesnake starts at their tread 
 
 And seeks his rocky lair. 
 Like an invading army swarm 
 
 The soldiers of the Lead Brigade, 
 The ocher-stain their uniform, 
 
 Their arms the pick and spade. 
 On many a wild and rock-ribbed hill, 
 
 In many a dark ravine, 
 The miner's cabin, built of logs 
 
 And chinked with earth, is seen. 
 The streams which once like crystal ran 
 
 Run thick with muddy stain. 
 For, toiling through the wash-dirt flumes, 
 
 The ocher's hue they gain; 
 And creaking 'neath the heavy tub. 
 
 The windlass makes its rounds. 
 And mottling many a hillside green. 
 
 Rise up the yellow mounds. 
 Beneath its volumed, sulphurous smoke 
 
 The fiery furnace roars. 
 And from its glowing, stony throat 
 
 The molten metal pours. 
 Hemmed in by thickly pitted hills, 
 
 Springs up the busy mart. 
 And through rts stony valley streets 
 
 Rolls the lead-burdened cart. 
 
 But on tlie prairie fair and broad 
 The wild grass still is green; 
 
 No trace of human hand is there, 
 The wild flowers bloom unseen. 
 
134 CENTENNIAL. 
 
 The delvers in the rock yet leave 
 
 The prairie sod unturned; 
 Its wealth, far passing that of mines, 
 
 Is overlooked and spurned. 
 
 Decades pass on; the century's close 
 
 Beholds another scene: 
 Gone are the wild grass and the flowers; 
 
 The prairie still is green, 
 But with a wealth of diverse grain 
 
 And not the wild grass sod, 
 And scores of fleecy flocks now graze 
 
 Where the lone wild deer trod. 
 Where once coyotes dug their holes 
 
 The farm-girl milks the kine. 
 And turkeys through the barnyard strut 
 
 Amid fat beeves and swine. 
 The corn's deep files and long, straight ranks 
 
 Toss all their lances green; 
 The farmer's son, like knight of old, 
 
 In triumph rides between. 
 In gorgeous, scythe-armed chariots rode 
 
 The warrior-kings of old 
 And left in battle swaths of men 
 
 Where'er their chariots rolled. 
 And so the farmer-king now rides 
 
 Adown the meadows green, 
 The clover's red-capped legions fall 
 
 Before his sickle keen. 
 Where stretched the prairie bare we see 
 
 The farm-house through the leaves; 
 The walls shine white and flashes bright 
 
CENTENNIAL. 135 
 
 The rain-spout on the eaves. 
 We see the village steeples rise 
 
 Amid embowering trees; 
 We hear the anvil's faint, far clang 
 
 Borne on the summer breeze. 
 We hear the distant engine's rush 
 
 Along the quivering rails, 
 Bringing the wares of every land 
 
 And bringing too the mails. 
 It swiftly brings within our reach 
 
 The daily sheet, yet damp, 
 Adown whose columns all life's forms 
 
 In long procession tramp, 
 We read it by the radiance bright 
 
 Of burning kerosene; 
 Surpassing the wax taper's light 
 
 In palace old, I ween. 
 The match with which we light this lamp 
 
 AVould seem a conjurer's show 
 To Franklin with his lightning-kite 
 
 A hundred years ago. 
 Yain might I wi'ite page after page 
 
 And tire your patience too. 
 To tell the wonders of this age 
 
 No summer day will do. 
 
 Events march on in mass, not one by one; 
 And still the clanging wheels of progress run 
 With ever-gaining speed. How near the end? 
 And what and where the goal to which we tend? 
 O awful mystery of our land's to-morrow! 
 The past we know, but vainly strive to borrow 
 
 35 
 
136 VICTORIO. 
 
 Light from beyond — perchance there lies the bright 
 
 Millenium — Chaos, perchance, and night! 
 
 Then let the patriot hope, and trust and pray, 
 
 And labor ever to prepare the way 
 
 For the good time when wrong and woe shall cease — 
 
 The era of the Thousand Years of Peace. 
 
 For such a future Avork to fit our land, 
 
 Nor seek the awful vail to lift with puny hand. 
 
 VICTORIO. 
 
 FOR a year and a month, though half-palsied and 
 old, 
 Had this warlike Apache chief wily and bold 
 Bid defiance to foes, be they black, red or white, [fight. 
 Prompt and skilled in retreat, fierce and fearless in 
 He had captured the horses sent out to pursue [few. 
 And their riders had slain where he found they were 
 And the red-kerchiefed scouts* who infested his way 
 Fled aghast when he turned like a lion at bay. 
 He had driven the beeves from the fort's stout corrals 
 In despite of the muskets and high 'dobe walls. 
 He had feasted his fill on the white flocks that fed 
 In Valencia's vale, while the herdboys had fled, 
 Or to distant Chihuahua as captives were led. 
 And in spite of the troopers and ranchmen dismayed? 
 So far to the northward he pushed his bold raid, 
 Over sheep ranches brown and through vineyards 
 dark-green, [seen 
 
 That the smoke of his burnings might well have been 
 From the Sandia's crags that like dun castles frown 
 To the eastward beyond Albuquerque's old town. 
 
VICTORIO. 137 
 
 Through all the wide border his trail was of blood 
 From the llanos of Texas to Gila's broad flood. 
 The mine on the mountain, the ranch on the plain 
 Had mourned his dread coming again and again. 
 When they feared his approach hardy prospectors paled, 
 And his visits the Mexican plazas bewailed; 
 And travelers, ambushed in some lonely spot, 
 By coach-loads were slaughtered and left there to rot. 
 
 Long the blue-clad black riders had chr.sed him in vain 
 For hundreds of leagues o'er the drear Staked Plain, 
 Where the cactus grows armed with its hideous thorns 
 And where oft the dread hum of the rattlesnake warns. 
 And across the Jornada's long, waterless plain. 
 Where the bones of dead Spaniards for ages have lain; 
 Back and forth 'cross the vale of the broad Kio Grande 
 With its vineyards and wheat and mesquite plains 
 
 sandy. 
 But he baffled them oft in Florida' sf canons 
 Or San Mateo's range, or the far Mogollons.f 
 
 When his foes o'er a thousand pressed hard at his back. 
 On his front and his flank— they were red, white and 
 
 black - 
 Then away o'er the Mexican border he hied 
 In the vales of Chihuahua to ravage and ride. 
 Then by scores the rancheros' best horses were ta'en. 
 Were the merchant- trains plundered and herdsmen 
 
 were slain. 
 Then Terrazas, the Governor, wrathfully swore 
 That Victorio should ravage his ranches no m-ore. 
 "Three thousand broad pieces of eight J will I pay 
 
138 VICTOEIO. 
 
 To tlie hand that this bold robber chieftain shall slay." 
 But undaunted for months did Yictorio ride, 
 And the arms of two nations escaped and defied. 
 
 But Buell's black riders behind him still came, 
 As the sleuth-hounds relentlessly follow their game; 
 While by scores and by hundreds around him arose, 
 Spurring hard their wild broncos, his Mexican foes; 
 And the belts of his warriors of cartridges fail. 
 While the troops of two nations ride hot on his trail. 
 Then he halted amid Tres Castillos'll rocks bald, 
 And to Nana, his war-chief devoted, he called: 
 "Of my bravest take thirty, ride out and away, 
 And accomplish your mission wherever you may. 
 Sack the plaza tienda§ and plunder the train — 
 Do aught and do all the red shells to obtain; 
 And if of your purpose you wholly should fail. 
 Let no warrior come back here to tell me the tale." 
 In haste and in silence they mount and are gone, 
 With a clatter of hoofs down the rocky canon. 
 
 But long before Nana returned from his raid 
 The last act in Victorio's drama was played. [scout 
 Back to camp in hot haste came each fleet mounted 
 Whom the wily old chief had that morning sent out. 
 And "The Mexicans come!" is the tale that each tells; 
 "Ride the regulars first with their belts full of shells. 
 And their guidons flaunt gay, hanging down by the 
 
 flanks 
 Of the cantering horses each broad saber clanks. 
 Then by scores the rancheros are crowding behind. 
 And their gaudy serapes^ stream out on the wind. 
 
VICTORIO. 139 
 
 In tlie front rides Terrazas with soldierly mien ; 
 Mexico lias no braver than Colonel Joaquin." 
 
 Said Victorio then, "My career is nigh run ; 
 Soon my spirit shall meet that of Red Sleeve, my son. 
 Soon the mountain coyote shall feed on this frame, 
 That for hundreds of moons, although withered and 
 
 lame. 
 Has contained a strong heart and a spirit of flame. 
 If our foes but press on soon their work will be closed 
 And this head on Chihuahua's broad plaza exposed 
 To be struck by the hands of the leperos brown 
 That would pale were I living and shake at my frown. 
 Were each peso** Terrazas has laid on my head 
 But a shell in our belts with its capping of lead. 
 You would see these gay troopers turn short on their 
 
 trail, 
 Each ranchero's hot broncoff would show us his tail. 
 Though our foes may be many, our cartridges few. 
 Let your hearts yet be strong and your aim still be true. 
 And let each blackened shell, void of powder and lead. 
 From your musket's breech flung when its bullet has 
 
 sped. 
 Count a Mexican carcass as void and as dead." 
 
 [wild, 
 'Kound their camp rose the sheltering crags high and 
 In each defile between with great labor were piled 
 Heavy fragments of stone, that a barrier of rock 
 Might the rush of the foeman at every point block. 
 Their squaws and papooses were gathered within; 
 On the far reservation long herded they 'd been. 
 But disdaining to live as the agency's wards, [lords. 
 
140 VICTORIO. 
 
 O'er the many drear leagues they had followed their 
 
 Sinking low in the west was the red, blazing sun 
 When Victorio's pickets discharged the first gun. 
 Though the Mexican skirmishers cautious advanced 
 From shelter to shelter, while sharply they glanced 
 At each spot which might cover the ambush so dread, 
 Yet the ball from each picket drew blood as it sped. 
 But the Mexican lines in a circle swung 'round. 
 Although each caballeroJ;J; crept close to the ground, 
 While his pony, accoutered with gay saddle-gear 
 And silver -bossed bridle, was left in the rear. 
 
 The bare crags of Castillos grew purple, then blue. 
 As the western hills hid the broad sun from the view. 
 High rode the full moon o'er the desolate scene, 
 And the splintered crags ghastly loomed up in its 
 
 sheen. " 
 Eeflecting and scattering those bright glancing beams, 
 On hundreds of carbines the polished steel gleams, 
 As the Mexican lines in a broad circle lie 
 And await the bright da^^m in the far eastern sky. 
 While behind the dark rocks like wild beasts in their 
 
 lair. 
 Crouch the tameless Apaches in dauntless despair. 
 
 The sun yet unseen threw a bright tinge of gold 
 On the far western hills where the white mists uprolled. 
 When the blast of a bugle rang out on the air [bare, 
 And the echoes pealed back from the crags high and 
 And Terrazas cried " Charge !" with a thundering 
 shout, [sprang out. 
 
 And five hundred dark forms from their ambush 
 
VICTOEIO. 141 
 
 With a yell and a rusli on the wild foe they sprang, 
 While the rifles of all the Apache braves rang 
 In one deadly discharge, then forever were dumb, 
 For their last shell was spent and their red doom had 
 
 come. 
 Then the Mexican carbines again and again 
 Sent forth their red flashes and murderous rain, [ivild 
 While that brief storm of carnage rolled fearful and 
 Fell by scores the strong warrior, the squaw and the 
 
 child. 
 
 *'Tell me, where is Victorio?" Terrazas demands 
 
 Of the few silent captives with firmly bound hands; 
 
 For naught could be seen, either living or dead. 
 
 Of that chief with so heavy a price on his head. 
 
 But not an Apache by look or by word 
 
 Gave a sign that Terrazas' fierce question he heard. 
 
 Cried the Colonel, "Stand ten of the dogs in a line 
 
 And shoot each of them w^ho to reply shall decline." 
 
 It was done and the stern inquisiton begun; 
 
 But impassive and speechless still stood every one. 
 
 And each in his turn, as he failed to reply, 
 
 At the carbine's report sank in silence to die. 
 
 But the tenth, who was half of the Mexican race, 
 
 Gave away with that muzzle so grim at his face, 
 
 And consented to show to Terrazas the w^ay 
 
 To the nook where sore wounded Victorio lay, 
 
 By the squawks of his band with all cunning concealed 
 
 When unable to fight and unwilling to yield. 
 
 [head 
 Altliough mangled and helpless, the chief raised his 
 When he heard all around him the Mexicans tread, 
 And he fronted his foes with a murmur and glare ' 
 
142 GAEFIELD MEMORIAL. 
 
 Like the challenging growl of a dying gray bear. 
 "It is he," said a ranchman from off Rio Grand', 
 lie had seen the old chief at the head of his band. 
 "It is he," then a red Mescalero§§ spoke brief — 
 At the agency oft he had seen the old chief. 
 Not a word spoke the others, revengeful and grim. 
 And Victorio there, not a word came from him. 
 
 Then the clicks of the locks that the dead silence broke 
 At a sign from the Colonel the death-warrant spoke. 
 Came a crash, and a sm-oke-cloud enveloped them there. 
 While the sand and the pebbles liew high in the air. 
 Down sank those black locks thickly sprinkled with 
 white; [light; 
 
 From the strong, wrinkled face passed the fierce, lurid 
 From the mangled old body the tameless soul fled, 
 And the savagest, greatest Apache was dead. 
 
 *Red-kercbiefed scouts— The Ap- also a public square. Tienda— 
 
 ache scouts employed by the gov- Shop, store. 
 
 ernment wore red kerchiefs to dis- ifSerape (pro. ser-a/i-pe) a long, 
 
 tinguish them from the hostiles. naiTow blanket worn as a scarf. 
 
 fFloridas and Mogollons (pro- **Peso— Mexican dollar, 
 nounced Flo-ree-das and Mo-go- tfBronco— A wild or half-tamed 
 
 yones) mountains of New Mexico. branded horse. 
 
 JPieces of eight— 8 reales, 1 dollar. J|Oaballero— horseman. 
 
 IITres Castillos (pro. Trase Cas- §§Mescalero (accent on third 
 
 tee-yos) mountains in Chihuahua, syllable)— A bi'anch of the Apa- 
 
 §Plaza— an agi-ieultural hamlet; che tribe. 
 
 GARFIELD MEMORIAL. 
 
 IT is over! It is done ! 
 Death has conquered! Hear tlie knell 
 Pealing slowly from each bell, 
 And the solemn roar of gun. 
 
 See the country's banner bright. 
 Which the stars of heaven adorn, 
 Gay with colors of the morn. 
 
 Wreathed with hue of stormy night. 
 
GAKFIELD MEMORIAL. 143 
 
 From lakes to gulf, from sea to sea, 
 
 One universal funeral pall 
 
 So deep and dark envelops all. 
 Surpassing strange and sad to see. 
 
 In any age or any land 
 
 The mightiest king who e'er laid down 
 At Death's command the jeweled crown 
 
 Had never obsequies so grand; 
 
 Had for him flags at half-mast hung 
 
 Around the world— his grave ne'er knew 
 A hundred million mourners true 
 
 Of kindred race and common tongue. 
 
 But these imposing rites of grief 
 Are for a plain and simple man, 
 But higher rank holds no one than 
 
 A grand republic's fitting chief. 
 
 Well were his worth and valor tried 
 On Chicamauga's dreadful day. 
 When Bragg's impetuous legions gray 
 
 Came rushing like a stormy tide; 
 
 And burst like torrent o'er its banks — 
 'Mid leaden rain and thunder crash 
 And war-cloud dun and lightning flash 
 
 They broke the Northmen's reeling ranks. 
 
 But when that dismal day was done, 
 As bravely as the knights of old 
 E'er fighting won their spurs of gold 
 
 His wreath of double stars was won. 
 
 But not upon that bloody field 
 
 Was such high courage e'er displayed 
 As when upon his death -bed laid 
 
 He fought with death and would not yield. 
 
 37 
 
144 GAEFIELD MEMORIAL. 
 
 And through that contest long and drear, 
 When fate in trembling balance hung, 
 Full many a million hearts were wrung 
 
 With mingled hope, suspense and fear. 
 
 They hoped that somehow nature's laws 
 Might be defied by his strong will 
 And highest human healing skill 
 
 Might snatch him from Death's cruel jaws. 
 
 They felt the pang of hope deferred 
 
 Till vanished hope like cloud-wrapped star, 
 When one sad midnight trembled far 
 
 Along the wires the dreaded word. 
 
 A strange coincidence appears: 
 From Chicamauga's bloody day 
 Till dead the gallant Garfield lay 
 
 Had passed just eighteen years. 
 
 It seems vagary strange, his fate. 
 Unscathed by war's wild rage, to fall 
 Slain by a coward mean and small, 
 
 And he offenseless, brave and great. 
 
 But well for him and well for all — 
 Well for his great and growing fame. 
 Distinction high and deathless name, 
 
 That he did not in battle fall, 
 
 Did not in that mad tumult pass 
 
 To join that almost countless throng — 
 That roll of martyr braves so long 
 
 We can but mourn and praise en masse. 
 
 For little knew the millions then 
 
 How large of brain and large of heart, 
 How fit to play a noble part 
 
 He was, as chief 'mong mighty men. 
 
GARFIELD MEMORIAL. 145 
 
 Long, long bent o'er his dying bed 
 In dread suspense a nation liiing, 
 And foes who with sword, pen and tongue 
 
 Have fought him living bless him dead. 
 
 The high, dark waves of party strife, 
 The war-engendered passions strong. 
 The bitter feuds nursed hot and long, 
 
 Sank still and cold as ebbed his life. 
 
 Closed is the breach 'twixt South and North ; 
 When dies the common country's chief 
 Throbs hot with lightning words of grief 
 
 Each wire from Dixie stretching forth. 
 
 The ocean-sundered Saxon race 
 
 Grief shows yet bound by one strong chord, 
 And Britain's queen and London's lord 
 
 Among the mourners take their place. 
 
 The dirges on our prairies rise. 
 
 They're echoed back from Shannon's vale, 
 The banks of Clyde prolong the wail 
 
 And Thames's millions add their sighs. 
 
 Heaven grant our land that long may last 
 The holy peace 'round Garfield's bier; 
 That the quenched fires of hate may ne'er 
 
 Blaze forth again as in the past. 
 
 It was not thus when Lincoln died — 
 When lost to us that precious life 
 High rose again the waves of strife; 
 
 He, living, might have stayed the tide. 
 
 The evil is — let good come thence, 
 That not to us a second time 
 Shall be th' assassin's horrid crime 
 
 Deep loss without a recompense. 
 
146 GRANT COUNTY. 
 
 GRANT COUNTY ( Wisconsin). 
 
 Her thousand miles of hill and plain, 
 With mines of lead and fields of grain, 
 Are richer, broader and more grand 
 Than many a petty prince's land. 
 In cuives along her northern side 
 The broad Wisconsin's tribute tide 
 O'er shifting sands or rocky floor 
 Sweeps grandly fifteen leagues or more. 
 Adown it sped Marquette's canoe 
 Two hundred years ago and two. 
 Along this vale the bluffs rise tall 
 And seem gigantic fortress wall. 
 With many a rocky bastion set 
 And many a turf-grown parapet. 
 While deep ravine or narrow dell 
 Is port or gateway guarded well, 
 From Muscoda and Boscobel 
 And Millville in her "pocket" deep, 
 Down to the Mississippi's sweep. 
 
 Along Grant CouRty's western side 
 Rolls down a vast and world-famed tide. 
 Its cliffs are Nature's castles bold 
 That ages since were gray and old. 
 The ruined castles of the Rhine, 
 Though sung in many a sounding line 
 And given by many a page to fame. 
 Compared with these are poor and tame. 
 The poet of another age. 
 When all forgot is Byron's page, 
 May gem his line with Cassville's name 
 And give its cliifs an age of fame. 
 Or sketch with inspiration's pen 
 Glen Haven's deep, romantic glen. 
 And Wyalusing's hills and dells 
 Make famed o'er Scotia's olens and fells. 
 
GRANT COUNTY. 147 
 
 Emerging from these rocky liills, 
 Blake's Prairie's fertile region fills 
 
 The traveler's gladdened eyes. 
 Beyond the limits of his gaze 
 Stretch fields where grow the wheat and maize; 
 Like islands in the billowy sea 
 Rise groves of oak and cotton tree, 
 With breasts bared 'gainst the wild winds' sweep 
 And sheltered in this friendly keep 
 
 Full many a farm-house lies. 
 Go when the leafy month of June 
 Has brought the heaven and earth in tune; 
 Go where yon prairie joins the woods, 
 Wouldst thou see Nature's loveliest moods 
 
 And feast thy soul on scenery. 
 'T is there the waves of emerald grain 
 Which cover all the billowy plain 
 Are met and stayed by forest shore 
 Which lifts its darker mass before 
 
 In cliffs of vivid greenery. 
 
 Around this lovely prairie's hem 
 Are pearls set 'round a diadem — 
 A village fair is each white gem. 
 Among them Bloomington is seen, 
 Of all West Grant the Jaunty queen, 
 Enthroned within a low, green vale. 
 Just where the highland prairies fail. 
 Upon the prairie's northern bound 
 Patch Grove, a quiet burg, is found. 
 Although it seems a rustic ville. 
 Its homes a cultured people fill. 
 
 From Beetown in her narrow glen 
 Southeastward miles a score and ten, 
 Stretches a region rude and wild 
 With rocks on hills confusedly piled, 
 Concealing in deep rifts the ore 
 
148 GRANT COUNTY. 
 
 Which hither drew in days of yore 
 The foot of venturous pioneer 
 Where roamed the Indian and the deer. 
 Then was Potosi's day of pride, 
 Her flood on fortune's changing tide. 
 
 Far in the southeast corner there 
 Is Hazel Green; its landscape fair 
 Of our regard claims but a share, 
 
 For Peecival here sleeps. 
 O noble soul! O gifted one! 
 As modest as a cloistered maid, 
 Thou lovedst the glare of noonday sun 
 Less than the dingle's quiet shade, 
 
 Where soft the wild vine creeps. 
 Too precious for a brazen age 
 Whom grosser things of earth engage 
 Was thine high-souled and glorious line, 
 Thy genius delicate, divine. 
 
 Go northward. See against the sky 
 
 The spires of Platteville rising high ; 
 
 And see those walls of limestone gray 
 
 Loom up against the waning day. 
 
 It is the Normal^'t is the pride 
 
 Of Platteville — yea, Grant County wide. 
 
 Northward from Platteville stretching far 
 
 A tier of wealthy towns there are. 
 
 All I have said of Blake's before 
 
 May of the region be told o'er 
 
 Which lies 'tween Lima's southern bound 
 
 And Montfort's prairie vale, and 'round 
 
 To the high lands of Fennimore. 
 
 Upon the culminating swell 
 Of hill and prairie, sited well 
 To be such land's proud coronal. 
 Stands old Grant County's capital. 
 
GRANT COUNTY. 
 
 149 
 
 Its brave brick blocks and fair white homes, 
 Its taper spires and swelling domes, 
 Those marbles white which mutely tell 
 AVho for their country fought and fell, 
 
 Are always fair — but come 
 When May shall fill your lingering sight 
 With apple blossoms pink and white. 
 And leaf-buds green, and this delight 
 
 Is swelled with rich perfume.