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THE DEATH OF 
 MAID McCREA 
 
 / 
 
 BY 
 
 O. C. AURINGER 
 
 Author of ''''Heart of the Golden Roan,'' ''fVm. McKinley,^ 
 
 '■'The Road Builders," '^ Friendship' s Crown 
 
 of Verse,'' etc., etc. 
 
 BOSTON 
 
 RICHARD G. BADGER 
 
 THE GORHAM PRESS 
 IQOQ 
 
Copyright, 1909, by O. C. Auringer 
 All Rights Reserved 
 
 THE GORHAM PRESS, BOSTON, U. S. A. 
 
 G(.A2533f:5 
 
DEDICATION 
 
 TO THE DAUGHTERS OF THE 
 AMERICAN REVOLUTION 
 
 THESE TWIN TRAGEDIES 
 
 ARE DEDICATED BY 
 
 THE AUTHOR 
 
 1909 
 
THE DEATH OF MAID McCREA 
 
THE DEATH OF MAID McCREA 
 
 (SAMUEL STANDISH, NARRATOR) 
 
 We left the camp behind us colled in sleep, 
 And moved with quiet footfalls to the plain. 
 We paused a moment at the sentry's hail, 
 And answering passed on. We left the road. 
 The broad way from the fortress trailing 
 
 north, 
 And fell in file along a slender path 
 That ribbonded the plain and river-marsh, 
 O'erwaved a mount with shaggy growths 
 
 bespread 
 And crowned with pines and silence, spinning 
 
 thence 
 Still forth amid the wildwood's tangled 
 
 glooms. 
 On to a ruined blockhouse on the hill. 
 There lay thei ground we were to seize and 
 
 keep 
 From scout or foray of our lion foe 
 Crouched in a thorny jungle in the north. 
 
 A score of men we were, armed woodman-like 
 With musket, knife and hatchet, — every one 
 A soul well seasoned in the storms of war — 
 Sons of the sword, ambitious for the task — 
 Led by a dark lieutenant, silent, stern. 
 But oaken-souled and loved by every man, 
 
 9 
 
10 DEATH OF MAID McCREA 
 
 The trustiest in the camp. With scarce a 
 
 sound 
 We moved in line along the narrow path, 
 Dipped from the plain and pierced the river- 
 marsh, 
 And steeped in moonshine and hot airs of 
 
 night. 
 Set knees against the black acclivity, 
 And gave ourselves to that wild wilderness. 
 
 We climbed the steep ascent with guns atrail, 
 Picking our steps amid the roots and stones 
 That lurked along the pathway. As wc 
 
 moved, 
 A trailing breech, with mischievous intent 
 Would greet aloud some object on the way, 
 Sending a sudden thrill along the file; 
 And oft again some imp-inveigled foot 
 Would slip and bring a soldier to his knee, 
 Or send him reeling sidelong from the path. 
 Mayhap to catch and cling by shrub or limb 
 And sway his body back in line again, 
 And onward as before. And presently 
 A man would stop stock-still adown the file, 
 Smote in the face by some lithe hazel rod 
 That, bent unwillingly and springing back, 
 Stung like a whip. Then would an oath 
 
 break forth — 
 Strangled at birth; and followed in its turn 
 A laugh or joke in cautious undertones 
 At his expense who suffered from the blow — 
 Danger just seasoned with a spice of fun. 
 
DEATH OF MAID McCREA ii 
 
 And no one made the worse, so all was still. 
 For we were men trained not to utter sound 
 Above necessity when foes were nigh 
 Like those that girt us now. 
 
 Above the plain 
 Two mounts arose — steps of titanic stairs 
 Leading to nothing, cancelling the wild 
 And wondrous star-blown spaces of the 
 
 North. 
 And on the foremost couched a narrow plot 
 By jealous spirits stolen from the wilds. 
 Gone bare of trees, but richly carpeted 
 With soft green moss and silent. And it lay 
 Kept three sides round with spears of hazel- 
 wood 
 Enwoven in a wild vine's running skein. 
 And dark beside its brink an aged pine 
 Rose huge amid the blackness, and on high 
 Parting, held forth a magic canopy, 
 Mysterious o'er the moss-hushed forest floor. 
 And down amid his roots a virgin spring 
 Trembling and shy broke through the leaves 
 
 and moss, 
 Hung wavering In the shadow for a space. 
 Then fled In pearl and silver down the slope. 
 
 This was the ancient pine, and this the 
 
 spring, 
 And here the spot renowned In all the world. 
 And here we halted breathing hard; and 
 
 here, 
 
12 DE/\TH OF MAID McCREA 
 
 With studied charge and order from the 
 
 chief — 
 A message out of darkness in the ear — 
 I took my place beside the aged pine 
 To watch till morning; and my friends filed 
 
 on, 
 Vague bulks in darkness streaming o'er the 
 
 plot, 
 Along the dim and vanishing ascent, 
 Forth to the ancient blockhouse on the hill. 
 A long and lonesome watch beside that tree — 
 Long watch and lonesome; wide in darkness 
 
 spread 
 The night-lone lanscape round and far 
 
 away — 
 A wilderness gone dreaming, with the moon, 
 Stars, silent-pacing clouds and stealthy airs 
 Alert above it. And beneath, alert. 
 Their fellow guard and watchman of the 
 
 night, 
 I with my weapon and a lonely heart, 
 But willingly, kept uncomplaining hours. 
 For manly honor's sake, and liberty. 
 The night hung slumberous, yet one must 
 
 keep 
 His senses mustered round him^ — no clear 
 
 task 
 With naught to keep him wakeful but to 
 
 watch — 
 Just watch and wait the sluggish moments 
 
 through 
 And listen. And to venture past the bounds, 
 
DEATH OF MAID McCREA 13 
 
 The plot prescribed of safe and level ground, 
 To move about and feel oneself at large — 
 Forbidden grace ! To make companionship 
 With one's own pleasant inner impulses 
 By singing songs as soldiers love to do, 
 Or whistling to call up the merry thoughts 
 To charm an idle watch — most perilous ! 
 Our foes were wary ears on every side, 
 Fear figured armed warriors in the oaks, 
 And shaped fantastic foemen from the rocks. 
 And made the light leaves turning In their 
 
 dreams 
 Seem to the ear a gliding Indian's tread. 
 
 A soldier's mind hoards small philosophy 
 
 Among his treasures, woo It as he will; 
 
 A life of shocks breaks up the course of 
 
 thought 
 And checks It midway. Contemplation, shy. 
 Recluse and sensitive, starts from the sound 
 Of war's on-coming murmur militant. 
 And at roar of his impetuous rush 
 Gathers her things about her daintily 
 And vanishes; — guard! Is the soldier's watch- 
 word! 
 And yet he has his fancies, often sweet. 
 Dreams dreams and has ambitions of his own, 
 Most welcome, though so oft they come to 
 
 naught. 
 He has his store of stirring memories 
 Laid up through years of strange vicissitude, 
 Of camps and marches, roaring battle fields, 
 
14 DEATH OF MAID McCREA 
 
 Shipwrecks at sea, disasters on the shore, 
 Perils, escapeS' — all memorable things 
 To lighten up the long hours of a watch. 
 All these my mind tossed o'er, then fled away, 
 Heart-piloted beyond the wilderness, 
 And visited beside the Eastern sea 
 A humble fisher-town 'twixt sands and crags 
 Withdrawn apart — a butt for bluff sea winds. 
 And salt-sharp storms flung inland from the 
 
 main. 
 There stood a house I knew of, with its door 
 Laid open to the tossed sea waves, with sand, 
 And wreck and waste of many a stormy tide 
 Thrown near it. And I saw upon the beach 
 My three sweet motherless children hard at 
 
 With all their little sea-things ; fairy boats, 
 Laden with fairy thoughts imaginative, 
 Launched bravely from their hands with 
 
 mingled cries 
 Of hope and apprehension; — '*See, she 
 
 floats!" 
 "She's down, she's gone ! — Nay, there she 
 
 comes again !" 
 "How sweetly she sails on now ! We will call 
 Her name The Lucky Sailor, for good luck!" 
 And then they wave their hands and cry in the 
 
 wind — 
 "Luck to the Lucky Sailor!" o'er the foam. 
 
 Back flashed my thought, and then forth out 
 of earth, 
 
DEATH OF MAID McCREA 15 
 
 Or visionary starlight, airy space, 
 Or fairyland of beauty, none knows where, 
 A phantom face rose softly on my sight 
 Glimpsed in an air ideal, like a star; 
 More rare for loveliness than eye beholds 
 Ever amid this solemn loneliness 
 Forsakeni of fair things. And it appeared 
 Arrayed for wonder and magnificence 
 In one long living garment of bright hair. 
 Like that which waves 'mid webs of charmed 
 
 romance, 
 Magical tales and legends all forlorn 
 Imagined in old time, to net the heart, 
 And draw it happy captive through the talc. 
 And then my lips obedient spoke aloud 
 A name in the darkness, with such vehemence 
 As made me start alarmed, and throw around 
 Eyes apprehensive. But the loyal night. 
 Darkly discreet, gave not the sound away 
 To alien senseless ears. It was a name 
 Since famous in the annals of the land. 
 Which heard it cried round its circumference 
 Till it became a charm to conjure with, 
 A watchword and a symbol on men's tongues; 
 Even till a banner blazoned with that name. 
 And borne from town to town throughout the 
 
 land. 
 By close accord might gather to itself 
 How many a thousand gallant hearts and 
 
 swords 
 Pledged to the height of heavenly sacrifice 
 For love's fair sake, and country's liberty. 
 
1 6 DEATH OF MAID McCREA 
 
 And In that name what individual acts 
 Have been accomplished! I have known the 
 
 soul 
 Lukewarm in hope and courage take quick 
 
 fire, 
 And burn to noble death beneath its spell. 
 And I have known the base and dissolute, 
 The wretch that fought for plunder, harden- 
 ed men^ — 
 Cold soldiers by profession, noisy spirits. 
 Burlesques of heroes, lions in the camp 
 And lambs in battle, — I have known all these 
 To change their very nature at that name, 
 And in the day of opportunity 
 Prove heroes all, and terrible in fight. 
 Heap fame and honor and proud victory 
 Upon themselves and country! 
 
 But these things 
 Were yet unknown, unborni; the burning deed 
 Yet lingered that would consecrate that name, 
 Baptize it in warm blood, and send it forth 
 On its miraculous mission through the world. 
 That name? — What name sings sweetest in 
 
 our ears 
 And lingers, save the name of Maid McCrea? 
 
 But by-and-by the morning ! 'Twas the pipe 
 Of bird, I think, that first announced the 
 
 dawn 
 From some near tree — a loud and buoyant 
 
 strain, 
 
DEATH OF MAID McCREA 17 
 
 Clear-resonant, as If the dear musician 
 Had captured some keen courier-note of dawn 
 And flung it forth in glory as bright news. 
 And at that sound pipe after pipe broke forth 
 Voluptuous from that hill of harmony, 
 Until a thousand rapturous throats were 
 
 strained 
 To hail the coming banners of the dawn. 
 And then came morning marching slowly, 
 
 slowly, 
 Up o'er the land. 
 
 Low down along the plain 
 Reposed the fortress ramparts coiled in dusk, 
 Beside whose hillocks rolled the Hudson's 
 
 stream 
 Pouring with all his thousands from the hills, 
 With rustle and murmur of his million feet. 
 He moved unseen beneath the ghostly 
 
 stream 
 Of flowing vapor shadowing his march 
 Far on into the southland like a dream. 
 
 But broader burned the red along the east. 
 And fainter waxed the veil that dimmed the 
 
 wood. 
 As swept the light to westward o'er the 
 
 world ; 
 It touched the hills and they arose, unmasked, 
 And beamed afar with genial visages, 
 And in a moment o'er the wilderness 
 
1 8 DEATH OF MAID McCREA 
 
 Flushed the broad sun ! a swimming fount 
 
 of fire 
 That poured its streams across the solitudes 
 Till glory kindled to their utmost bounds. 
 His rays dissolved the mists along the 
 
 stream, 
 And set the water sparkling; gilt the sands, 
 Hung webs of golden gauze about the hills. 
 And woke anew the music of the birds 
 In thicket deep and treetop everywhere — 
 O 'twas a sight worth one long watch to see. 
 That world-old battle of the day with night, 
 Wherein the day is glorious conqueror. 
 And I remembmer how I stood and drank 
 My fill of that fresh fountain all alive, 
 Till all my heart pronounced the thing divine ! 
 
 A distant drum-pulse throbbing from the 
 
 plain 
 And chiming with my heart-pulse pleasantly, 
 O'erspilled the cup of rapture in my soul. 
 It ceased, — a curl fantastic of fierce smoke 
 Gushed forth a sudden cloud upon the plain, 
 And out the fort spoke through its early 
 
 gun, 
 Telling the world of morning. And the 
 
 sound, 
 Recoiling, passed and fell among the hills 
 Crashing; as when a storm-cloud from the 
 
 west 
 Discharges its first volley o'er the earth, 
 Rending the ancient stillness of the woods. 
 
DEATH OF MAID McCREA 19 
 
 Making the heart leap up In beast and man, 
 While all the trees a bashful silence keep 
 In all their leaves. And then in mimicry 
 A hundred echoes seizing on the theme 
 Ran babbling It the greenwood arches 
 
 through, 
 Hither and thither flying through the wilds, 
 With voices blowing ever faint and fainter, 
 Far off and farther, dying on the airs 
 That breathed from out the solitudes. 
 
 For me, 
 Yet one long hour before relief would come. 
 I leaned upon my weapon and looked down 
 Upon the narrow vista of the plain. 
 Where war had drawn some furrows of light 
 
 soil 
 And planted them with cannon. There had 
 
 men 
 Built for themselves rude homes in which to 
 
 dwell 
 And till their narrow slips of yellow earth. 
 And hunt and fish and barter, nested there 
 Beneath the fostering pinions of the fort, — 
 Each cottage with its tributary lawn, 
 Beds of rare roses, yellow marigolds. 
 And lilacs shadowing doorways with their 
 
 green. 
 Their blooms now fallen ; still where friendly 
 
 birds 
 All summer sang and nested 'mid their 
 
 boughs. 
 
 t 
 
20 DEATH OF MAID McCREA 
 
 And there were people moving In my sight 
 About their morning tasks — a pleasant thing, 
 As I remember how it moved me then, — 
 Some gleaning wood to start their early fires. 
 And some with yoke and bucket and long 
 
 toil 
 Who brought fresh water from the river's 
 
 brink. 
 Or drove their cattle forth amid the dew 
 To some deep forest pasture out of sight. 
 And over and beyond, a pigmy crew, 
 Ridiculous in distance as they moved 
 On errands lost to all but conscious eyes, 
 My camp-mates and companions in the war, 
 A few from oft their banquet-board of sand 
 Quaffing their early dram of heavenly air; 
 Half-naked gunners on the parapets. 
 Toiling away like demons in the fire 
 Of the red sun ; and creeping on his post 
 The drowsy sentinel — gun and bayonet 
 Molten to fire and splendor as he turned; 
 Or servants from the stables leading forth 
 With halters slack the train of thirsty beasts 
 To water, where the river lapped the sand. 
 And I remember, too, most humanly. 
 How good the cookhouse smoke seemed to 
 
 my eyes, 
 And how the thoughts of breakfast cheered 
 
 me up, 
 And all the genial messroom company 
 One has in barracks. 
 
DEATH OF MAID McCREA 21 
 
 But beholding these 
 I saw not all the vision of the time; 
 And truly such a wealthy-hearted morning 
 Was pledge enough of fairer things to come 
 Than homely-woven scenes with villagers 
 Slow shuttling through; or stuff of fireier 
 
 grain 
 Embossed with pictures of armed battle- 
 ments 
 And warlike figures; — something for a crown 
 Of this fair morning kingdom in the land. 
 O happy eyes to see that pledge fulfilled ! 
 O prosperous time! For on the glimmering 
 
 hem 
 Of the gay forest robe that clothed the camp, 
 A something, charmed with airy grace and 
 
 motion. 
 Something akin to sunrise and fresh dews 
 And winds and blowing roses of the wilds — 
 A gleam of morning — crossed my longing 
 
 sight 
 Borne lightly onward. It was where the 
 
 waves, 
 Penned In a cove that balked their onward 
 
 rush, 
 Like sheep pressed in confusion and complain- 
 ed, 
 Striking the sand and shrinking In recoil. 
 Pressing back on their fellows timidly. 
 As if they feared to tread the shining sands 
 That knew their footprints through unnum- 
 bered years. 
 
22 DEATH OF MAID McCREA 
 
 I saw It break the shadow of the wood, 
 And dawn another sunrise on the camp, 
 Just touching It In passing. Where the fort 
 Thrust out a threatening angle toward the 
 
 stream, 
 Its fairy-woven footsteps met the path — 
 The way our feet had taken — wafted on 
 Across the meadows, like a morning cloud 
 Dewing the earth behind it as it goes. 
 I watched it hushed, as one so often will, 
 Who stands and cranes his neck and holds his 
 
 breath 
 To note the outcome of some ventured guess 
 As if 'twere life or death. And so my heart 
 Held wager with my eyes who this might be 
 Coming so lightly. 'Twas a woman's shape 
 Coming so sweetly ! — sight in soldier's eyes 
 Most prized of all In this great wilderness 
 Because so rare and transient. 
 
 ''It Is 
 she!" 
 Some influence runs before and cries rejoic- 
 ing, — 
 Some courier of the heart — "Yes, it Is she!" 
 And the eye answers — "Nay, It Is not she! 
 The gay apparel, the unstately pace. 
 The unseemly season — 'tis some other she !" 
 But meanwhile like that cloud she floated on. 
 And came unto a cabin reared of logs 
 Piled roughly in their bark, and covered o'er 
 With faded forest branches. Low It stood 
 
DEATH OF MAID McCREA 23 
 
 Amid the outmost circle of rude homes, 
 A humble little dwelling, with its door 
 Swung open to the morning, and a curl 
 Of friendly smoke above its chimney stack. 
 And to the door the maid of morning came 
 And knocked. And from the dwelling came 
 
 a dame 
 Of fair and liberal port, and courteously 
 Took by the hand the early visitant 
 And led her in — a robber of my right! 
 They passed away from sight, but ere they 
 
 went, 
 A curl of laughter floated up to me 
 Upon the air of morning sweetly borne. 
 And then my heart laid claim upon my eyes 
 For one more wager won ! And it was true, 
 Even as my heart had said ! And this was she. 
 The famous, lovely, luckless Maid McCrea, 
 Whose face had set such martial hearts 
 
 aflame. 
 Whose mournful fate has set the world on 
 
 fire ! 
 And I was glad at heart to have her near, 
 And thanked the sunny morning in my soul, 
 Blessed the soft airs, the odors of the wood. 
 Rejoiced in all the summer-nested scene 
 With forms of fellow men, so much her pres- 
 ence 
 Gladdened the glittering world. . . . 
 
 But 
 
 suddenly 
 All pleasure died within me as my soul, 
 
24 DEATH OF MAID McCREA 
 
 By some mysterious Instinct like a hound, 
 Caught a fleet scent of evil in the air, 
 Far off or hovering. Ah, what airy dream, 
 What sweet unwisdom had enticed her forth 
 Arrayed as for her bridal, with the sun, 
 To seek an enemy's lodge ? I knew the dame, 
 A brave kind lady, but in sentiment 
 A Royalist outspoken from the soul; — 
 Our boasted gem strayed to this treasury 
 Of treason, with her lover hovering nigh 
 In ardent circles from the English camp. 
 Perchance prepared to speed with sudden 
 
 wing 
 To pluck it thence and wear it on his heart 
 Before her friends and mine — the feeble few 
 Who held the fort — for 'twas a conquered 
 
 land ! 
 What spirit had lured her forth at such a time 
 Of watch and danger? Was it possible 
 She dreamed to quit the shelter of the camp. 
 And home and friends and all the gallant 
 
 guard 
 Of hearts and weapons leagued in her defence, 
 For that dark tract of wilderness, beset 
 By such too-well-known perils — all for a sight 
 Of one mad boy in uniform ! Alas, 
 If she had only known ! Had only known ! 
 Had but her feet kept their old paths that 
 day! 
 
 A wild sound broke upon me, like a peal 
 Of cannon to a soldier in his dreams 
 
DEATH OF MAID McCREA 25 
 
 Calling him up to battle, ere the light. 
 
 A sullen crash of rifles overhead 
 
 Tore up the air around me, as a gale 
 
 Rips a strained tent; then rose a cry so wild, 
 
 So' savage that my heart stopped at the sound 
 
 An instant in its wonted harmony, 
 
 Then leapt with one wild impulse, and a 
 
 shock 
 That rocked the brain in its strong citadel. 
 Ah, well I understood that fatal cry — 
 The horrible cry all mad and animal. 
 The wild dishevelled courier of surprise 
 And all the rush and tumult of the pack ! 
 Out from the bosom of a gaunt ravine 
 It rose, that cleft the hilltop with a gash 
 Of some old torrent-stroke of ages gone. 
 Now rolling down a flood of fiery hate 
 Upon my hapless comrades of the watch! 
 Downward the cloud of battle swept the hill, 
 Shooting its muffled lightnings as it went, 
 With thunder and sound of voices hoarsely 
 
 blent — 
 Loud shouts and short sharp cries from here 
 
 and there 
 Where struck a shot the life, and laid on 
 
 earth 
 A soldier quivering. And on its edge. 
 Now and again, lithe figures sprang to sight — 
 And vanished where the hazels swathed the 
 
 boles 
 Of mighty trees; or caught in surging smoke. 
 Paled struggling in that limbo like a dream. 
 
26 DEATH OF MAID McCREA 
 
 And oft there passed the fleeting pantomime 
 Of clenched and struggling shapes that rolled 
 
 on earth, 
 With nimble limbs like serpents writhed and 
 
 tossed, 
 Knit in the last great grapple breast to breast. 
 
 The first live soul to issue from that cloud 
 Was a poor soldier flying from aloft, 
 Wild-eyed, bareheaded, wounded, weapon- 
 less, 
 A meteor of blood and suffering. 
 He fell, and gathering, rose and wavered oni, 
 Now stumbling more than running toward 
 
 the spot 
 Where I stood fixed and straining. And he 
 
 saw — 
 He saw, and raised a feeble cry of cheer. 
 But then a stream of flame broke from above 
 And downward, and he stopped with staring 
 
 eyes. 
 An instant ere he sank in death before me, 
 Pierced through his breast. Then rose his 
 
 crouching foe 
 And flamed at him like sanguine Lucifer, 
 With cries of triumph, bearing high his blade 
 To rend away the trophy of his deed. 
 Then with its old impulsive eloquence 
 My weapon rose and spoke ! and at the word 
 Down rolled the heathen howling — clutching 
 
 earth. 
 And showering leaves in awful agony — 
 
DEATH OF MAID McCREA 27 
 
 Ah ! how the bright blood rainbowed from 
 
 his breast: — 
 A stroke well struck — alas, the only one 
 That fate permitted me to deal that day ! 
 For see ! The hanging cliff was all alive 
 With gliding forms and fearful visages 
 And streaming head-plumes! Then my soul 
 
 affirmed 
 The fated issue of that dark surprise 
 x'\nd fight so quickly finished ; — naught alas, 
 Save luckless death or capture to my friends. 
 Whose weapons spoke no more, whose shouts 
 
 were still. 
 Whose enemies in wanton victory 
 Ranged everywhere! One instant desperate 
 Remained wherein to fly before the storm, 
 Or else to stay and die amidst the storm — 
 Such was the choice. With madness in my 
 
 soul 
 Yet loving life, I thrust my weapon by, 
 That fate to many a foeman, and my friend 
 i\pproved and true;— gift of my ancestor 
 Whose deeds in former wars had made it 
 
 famous. 
 Famed fighter, famous weapon! — cast aside 
 My ox-horn flask, and leathern pouch with 
 
 balls. 
 Plucked out the heavy war-axe from its rest 
 And lingeringly released it from my hand. 
 Till all disarmed save for one slender blade 
 Clasped firm I stood; then glancing warily 
 
28 DEATH OF MAID McCREA 
 
 An instant, prying forth for shadowing 
 
 forms, 
 And naught discerning, slipped I down the 
 
 path, 
 Brushing the foliage lightly; then leapt out. 
 Long, like a hunted buck when stretch the 
 
 hounds 
 Red-mouthed upon his track; and speeding 
 
 raised 
 My voice and rang aloud along the plain — 
 "Fly for your lives ! The foe is at your 
 
 doors ! 
 Fly to the fort!" to warn the villagers. 
 I never reached the fort, though, — luck, or 
 
 fate, 
 Or some ill influence that dogs mens' steps. 
 Had writ me down unfortunate that day ! 
 For scarce my feet found me amid the plain, 
 Running with every nerve stretched, arms 
 
 a-play. 
 My spirits up and dancing, courage high. 
 And passion all enlisted for the heat, — 
 When there ! a hazel thicket by the course 
 Let out three lurking heathen on my front. 
 And snapped the glorious race short! One 
 
 that hopped 
 Out of his covert like an evil toad — 
 A hunched black creature with malignant 
 
 eye — 
 Up-swung a firearm and the flame sprang 
 
 out; 
 And I sank down upon my wounded limb 
 
DEATH OF MAID McCREA 29 
 
 Stung by the hissing missile, for a moment 
 Surprised and shocked, not knowing well my 
 
 hurt. 
 As boys a sapling under some fierce gust, 
 Doubled to earth — to spring again and 
 
 stand, 
 I fell to rise again; and met my foes 
 With one slim blade, hot-hearted for the 
 
 strife 
 Of skill and warrior courage to the end. 
 But ere a blow w^as struck, amid the pause 
 Defiant, filled with flying hateful glances, 
 A tall wild warrior limbed like Hercules, 
 With boyish gesture flung his weapon down. 
 And lightly leaping, colled himself about 
 
 me, 
 Tying my limbs in tangles of lithe strength. 
 And bowed me down to earth. As a har- 
 vester 
 Grapples a sheaf of maize within his arms, 
 And struggling, binds Its summit with a band 
 Of twisted straw, then bowing swings It clear 
 And lays it with its fellows on the earth. 
 So on the earth, unfellowed, laid he me. 
 There his grim mate with foul and greedy 
 
 hands 
 Bound fast my limbs with cords, that 'twixt 
 
 his teeth 
 Hung loosely dangling, waiting such an end. 
 Then both arose and looked upon me there 
 In mocking triumph. Then the hunchback 
 
 plucked 
 
30 DEATH OF MAID McCREA 
 
 My dagger from the grass, and whetted it 
 Upoiii his earth-soiled moccasini awhile, 
 Eyeing me as a butcher eyes a sheep 
 Laid bound for slaughter. Ceasing, up he 
 
 sprang, 
 And flashed the steel in my eyes, extravagant 
 In cries and shows of triumph. 
 
 So 
 I lay 
 Bound in the presence of my enemies. 
 
 It was a thing most wonderfully done! 
 I never saw aught like it in the world. 
 Amid the arts and cunning slights of force 
 Long practiced in the handicraft of war. 
 My heart cried shame upon me then, and 
 
 tears. 
 The first to dim my eyes for many a day, 
 Flowed to reproach my fallen estate^ — that I, 
 A famous wrestler in my college days, 
 A man of action, and on many fields 
 Since then triumphant in my power of limb, 
 Should yield at last my prestige in the art 
 To that wild fellow of the woods, untaught. 
 With naught but simple nature for his friend. 
 And yet amid my sore humility 
 I did admire the deed ! It pleased me so 
 That I forgave the fellow on the spot 
 With all my heart, it was so bravely done! 
 A few swift words in their ungentle tongue. 
 Complete with glancing eyes and waving 
 
 arms, 
 
DEATH OF MAID McCREA 31 
 
 Passed 'twixt my captors. Then the giant 
 
 took 
 His weapons, beckoned to his chosen mate, 
 A wild and sinewy creature like a wolf, 
 Who followed; and the pair with secret steps 
 Passed silently from sight. And then ap- 
 proached 
 Once more that bunch of deep deformity, 
 And cut away my feet-bands with a stroke. 
 And wide they flew recoiling at the touch; 
 And with the hateful menace of a spear ^ 
 And horrid-mingled speech, he bade me rise, 
 Pointing with crooked finger up the slope. 
 And I arose and like a tortoise passed 
 Before him up the track and o'er the way 
 My feet erewhile had spurned like a proud 
 
 stag, 
 Printing the outrolled tablet of the path 
 With characters of blood; and all the while 
 My brain a fire, my spirit brewing gall 
 I labored on; and soon with limbs rebound 
 Lay, scarce a man, beneath the ancient pine 
 Where gushed the spring of crystal from the 
 
 bank — 
 A vein of pearl by moonshine, but in the sun 
 A darting snake of gold that rustling ran 
 Down briary cleft of hillslope to the plain. 
 I lay and watched it from my rugged couch 
 Awhile, half-pleased and soothed to see it 
 
 flow. 
 Bearing my heart a moment on its wave. 
 
32 DEATH OF MAID McCREA 
 
 Soon sounds were heard above me on the 
 
 rock, 
 Voices confused, and shufflle of moving feet, 
 And ring of arm that clanged on fellow arm 
 Flung rudely down. But all I heard un- 
 moved. 
 Being downcast and captive. But my guard 
 Grew restless at the signs, and flew aside 
 Often to view the scene, as oft returning 
 With looks more dark and vicious; till at. last, 
 O'ercome by restless longing like a child, 
 Fretful at aught that bars him from his wish, 
 He vanished up the crag, leaving behind 
 His spear and one wild warning glance of 
 
 eye 
 Shot backward as he passed. I gave no look, 
 But lay until his last limb disappeared 
 Withdrawn across the brink. 'Twas then 
 
 with pain 
 And utmost struggle that I rose and stood, 
 Supported by the pine tree's friendly 
 
 strength — 
 How burned the cords like fire into my 
 
 flesh— 
 And looked at level range across the plot 
 Brought even with my gaze — It was a sight 
 To stir the soul with wrath, disgust and 
 
 hate — 
 To fill the heart with curses, not with prayers, 
 The mouth with prayers that were naught 
 
 else but curses; 
 To wake a drowsing demon in the breast 
 
DEATH OF MAID McCREA 33 
 
 To thrills of fiendishness that puts to shame 
 The thing divine in man. A company 
 Foul-handed with the blood of gallant souls 
 Were there and flourishing around a heap 
 Of battle-trophies, which their greedy hands 
 Had stripped from slaughtered bodies of 
 
 brave men 
 And they my comrades ! Garments soaked 
 
 in blood 
 Were there, and many a weapon with its steel 
 Dimmed by the dust of battle, as it fell 
 From some strong soldier's grasp, struck in 
 
 mid-heat 
 Of fiery onset. One slim blade I saw 
 Snapped at the point and crimsoned to the 
 
 hilt! 
 
 And in the throng were some that crawled 
 
 about 
 On wounded limbs, the furnace of their hate 
 Seven times more heated by the fires of pain. 
 And oft some frenzied spirit in the band 
 Would pluck a loathly object from his girdle. 
 And shake the fearful trophy in the air. 
 Whereon responsive cries broke from the 
 
 throng. 
 Filling my spirit with loathing. Back I sank 
 Upon the kindlier earth, all sick at heart. 
 And all my soul offended at the sight. 
 The ring of coming footsteps now were 
 
 heard 
 
34 DEATH OF MAID McCREA 
 
 Climbing the path behind me, though the 
 
 leaves 
 Hung thick before the way, and mixed o'er- 
 
 head. 
 Shut out the panting climbers from my sight. 
 A hope my soul had harbored while I lay 
 Helpless, with prayers for vengeance on our 
 
 foes. 
 Sprang forth alive at these oncoming sounds. 
 And broke the dear news to my panting 
 
 heart — 
 This was the looked-for succor from the 
 
 camp — 
 Alas, that never came ! The foliage 
 That draped with green the shining vestibule 
 Of that resplendent temple so defiled, 
 Was shaken for a space as by a breeze. 
 Then parted, and my conqueror appeared 
 With some behind him. It was then I saw 
 The first true act of savage gallantry 
 My eyes had ever seen. A step aside 
 He made and paused, and gracefully with 
 
 his hand 
 Drew back the plaited foliage from the path. 
 And let two ladies through. The first that 
 
 came 
 Was Jennie, issuing from the tender shade 
 In all her maiden glory; — like the sun 
 O'ermounting In his course victorious 
 Through heaven the cloud that barred his 
 
 early beams. 
 The morning exercise had spread a flush 
 
DEATH OF MAID McCREA 35 
 
 Of rosy warmth upon her fairest face; 
 Her bonnet now was off, and from her 
 
 head — 
 That strong proud head she carried like a 
 
 queen — 
 Even from her low brow backward o'er her 
 
 crown 
 And down her back until its crinkled gold 
 Straying, trailed up the pathway as she came, 
 Rolled down in glorious billows that great 
 
 hair. 
 I looked upon her face — ^there was no shade 
 Of fear that marred the glory of its charm, 
 But in her lovely eyes, and on her cheeks 
 A fire of splendid Indignation burned; 
 And on her lips, proud-curled and beautiful, 
 Abode a soul of scorn unspeakable, 
 The judgment of a proud Imperial heart 
 Offended. . . . Painfully behind her came 
 Eler friend and hostess, wearily ascending, 
 Above whose shoulder as she came two eyes 
 Shone ominous of a captor at her back. 
 Young eyes see all; — and so the maiden's 
 
 glance 
 Sweeping the space soon found me where I lay 
 Bound and unmanned against the tree's wide 
 
 trunk; 
 And swift of step, defiant of restraint. 
 She came and looked and knew, then kindly 
 
 smiled, 
 And spoke with maiden diffidence and said — 
 
36 DEATH OF MAID McCREA 
 
 "May I speak for a moment? — we are cap- 
 tives 
 And need to cheer each other. How those 
 
 bonds 
 Must hurt you, drawn with such Inhuman 
 
 rigor; 
 Had I a knife, Vd cut them in the face 
 Of yonder savages, and let you go. — 
 You might flee down the hillside and escape." 
 "Not while you staid a captive, gentle maid," 
 The soldier In me answered; and her eyes 
 Sparkled at that, while warmer glowed her 
 
 cheek. 
 And then she bent above me till some locks 
 Of her great hair fell forward o'er her breast 
 And touched my own with blessing; then 
 
 spoke low 
 "Fear not for us at all, we shall not suffer! 
 These creatures dare not harm us If they 
 
 would ; 
 Their master is the English Commandant, 
 Cousin and friend of my kinswoman here; — 
 They take us to the English camp : — farewell ; 
 When safely there we shall remember you." 
 O tender light of woman's sympathy 
 Shining In that dark place ! 
 
 A 
 
 moment more 
 And all were passing onward up the path 
 Around the rock's blunt angle to the plot, — 
 A rugged path for tender feet to tread, 
 
DEATH OF MAID McCREA 37 
 
 Rouch, hard, and stony cruel ! — O 1 wished — 
 I wished and longed, but could not, being 
 
 bound, 
 To ease them on — it was but natural. 
 One loves to smooth the pathway for a friend ! 
 
 And as they vanished, winding round the 
 
 rock, 
 I felt that awful sinking of the soul 
 Once more surprise me, that I oft had felt. 
 Sometimes on battle fields, sometimes in camp. 
 And often on the water of the deep. 
 Forerunning some disaster, woe or death 
 To' one I loved the best in all the world. 
 ^Tis strange how often we are made to bear 
 In terror in the secret of our souls 
 Life's dark calamities ere they befall. 
 
 They gained the plot and halted. Then a 
 
 shout 
 Vociferous from savage throats arose 
 In greeting to their chief. And then the chiefs, 
 Grave and subdued, apart upon the rock. 
 Assembled in dark conclave, — motionless 
 Except for lips and eyes unresting moved 
 In energy of speech, or glances shot 
 Oft toward the fort with looks significant, 
 And oft upon the captives. And among them. 
 First in authority and eloquence, 
 Presided my wild captor — Wyondotte, 
 Surnamed The Panther, terror of whose deeds 
 With torch and tomahawk had filled the land 
 
3S DEATH OF MAID McCREA 
 
 With a brood of shuddering rumors. . . . 
 
 Brief the council 
 And soon dissolved ; and mixing with the men 
 By mingled speech and sign, the chiefs made 
 
 known 
 Their purpose. Then stood forth two men of 
 
 brawn. 
 But mild, and innocent of battle stain 
 Or show of human trophy, and addressed 
 In broken speech but still unbroken signs. 
 And not ungentle art and emphasis. 
 The elder captive, pointing toward the north 
 With often outstretched arm and liberal air 
 Of signihed assurance. But the dame 
 Returned no word nor moved, but stood bow- 
 ed down 
 As if absorbed in her calamity. 
 And oft she sighed and deep, like one o'er- 
 
 spent 
 With toil or utmost grief. A lirtle while 
 She so remained, and then she raised her 
 
 head. 
 With stem and flashing eyes set on her foes, 
 And opening at once her heart and lips. 
 Poured out with mar\-elous master}^ of tongue 
 A shower of indignation on the band. 
 Till even^ one shrank awestruck from that 
 
 speech 
 Whose fire and thrust wrought havoc with 
 
 their wits. 
 And overthrew each warrior where he stood 
 
DEATH OF MAID McCREA 39 
 
 With wondering admiration. Cowed, sub- 
 dued. 
 
 By such unwonted thunder in their ears. 
 
 They changed as it went on their art and 
 craft 
 
 To win obedience to their design 
 
 From this reluctant captive. — cringed and 
 crawled 
 
 In awkward forms of savage blandishment. 
 
 And flatteries unpracticed by their kind. 
 
 "O you are gallant warriors, every one! 
 How nobly you have triumphed over us 
 Weak women ! In the house where you sur- 
 prised us 
 Remain a black slave and a babe concealed. 
 Draw out your bravest warriors and send 
 
 forth 
 And bring them, and complete your victory*! 
 You cowardly base creatures I who from am- 
 bush 
 Of tree or rock shoot unsuspecting men 
 You fear to meet in battle I Had we arms 
 Other than nature gave us — gun or sword — 
 We t^o, and women, here upon this rock 
 Would turn upon you. cowards that you are. 
 And beat you back am.ong the bears and 
 
 wolves 
 Who drove you out to war on weaker flesh I 
 You say you will not slay us I — we believe 
 vou. 
 
40 DEATH OF MAID McCREA 
 
 Women cannot resist you, wherefore slay 
 
 them ? 
 Better to sell them In your master's camp 
 For gold with which the deeper to debase 
 Your lives, already baser than the dregs 
 And scum of living nature ! — no, not sell, 
 But yield for ransom — that's a better phrase, 
 But that is white, a turn of English speech 
 Coined by your masters. Call it something 
 
 else! 
 Has your rich tongue no term for such a 
 
 deed? 
 Go with you ? No ! You cannot budge me 
 
 hence 
 One step against my will ; and carry me 
 Ye cannot. Nature has provided me 
 A frame ye cannot stir ! . . . And you 
 
 w^ould part 
 This dear child from me, lest we being to- 
 gether 
 Should comfort one another! I have heard 
 Of beings so Inhuman, but till now 
 I never looked on such ... I cannot 
 
 hope 
 To vie In talk with you, and speak out all 
 My heart about you. Nature has withheld 
 From me the gift of speech, — I am content 
 Since she has favored you therewith ! Talk on, 
 And let your virtues blossom in your speech 
 That wither In your acts ! . . . And If 
 
 I go 
 Pray whither will you lead me? But why 
 
 ask! 
 
DEATH OF MAID McCREA 41 
 
 Do I not know already? Where Is gold 
 But in the Enghsh camp wherewith to buy 
 Unfortunate captives? — you would take me 
 
 thither. 
 Beelzebub was aye a blunderer, 
 And you do honor to your ancestor 
 By keeping his tradition ! Take me then 
 Forthwith at his command ! My ancestor 
 He had a kinsman who was ancestor 
 Of a certain English soldier, commandant 
 Now of his Majesty's batallions camped 
 But one league hence. And I his kinswoman, 
 And loyal subject of his liege, the king 
 Of England and these glorious provinces. 
 Consent to be led to him, bound and shamed, 
 A miserable captive! Your reward 
 Will doubtless much surprise you when it 
 
 comes ! — 
 You do not understand? Oh, well, I said 
 Lead on, but slowly as you can. Much gold 
 Shall pay you for my safe delivery. 
 Farewell sweet Jenny; it Is hard to part 
 Thus torn by force asunder; but be brave, 
 We'll meet for better luck in yonder camp!" 
 
 Thus their persuasions triumphed, and the 
 
 pair 
 Assumed her escort, moving leisurely. 
 And sought the broader highway pointing 
 
 east. 
 Along the steep hill's foot; and so were gone. 
 And as they passed, my eyes from the pursuit 
 
42 DEATH OF MAID McCREA 
 
 Flew back to the rock where hovered all my 
 
 fears 
 Like birds among the branches, when the 
 
 snake 
 Comes crawling toward the nest. Upon that 
 
 rock 
 Conspicuous amid the wilderness, 
 With those wild scenes and faces witnessing, 
 7'hese children of two races, white and red. 
 The maiden and the warrior, with a sword 
 Extinguishing between them, stood apart 
 And gazed upon each other. . . . May 
 
 his race 
 Melt from the white man's march as sank his 
 
 gaze 
 Before those eyes of steadfast innocence 
 Judging his lawless soul. 
 
 Meanwhile 
 the sun 
 
 All bright till then and shining in his strength, 
 Making a world of magic with his beams, 
 Suddenly darkened ; and a wind arose. 
 Unheard before, and wailing filled the wood 
 With mournful tones, and sinking swept the 
 
 ground, 
 Shaking the leaves and trailers on the stones, 
 And whispering round the tree-trunks drearily 
 As if it knew and grieved. Amid the trees 
 The merry birds ceased suddenly their songs 
 And fled with cries into the darkened air. 
 Borne far in startled bevies out of sight. 
 
DEATH OF MAID McCREA 43 
 
 Away In forest depths some wandering wolf 
 Howled twice and ceased; and some distress- 
 ed beast 
 Within a far-off farmyard raised its voice 
 And lowed disconsolate to the darkened 
 
 sky. 
 And through my life and blood a dull chill 
 
 crept ; 
 And o'er my soul a deep foreboding cloud 
 Closed by degrees, and was not lifted more 
 Till that dark evil drawing to a head 
 Discharged itself In blood upon the land. 
 
 There rose an Instant tumult on the rock, 
 Like shouts of drunken soldiers when a town 
 Is sacked, and riot roars amid the streets, 
 Urged on by lust of plunder and vile 
 
 drink 
 Concocted for man's evil. And I saw 
 The storm of lawless passion break and rage, 
 'Mid brutal violence, and strife of tongues 
 Not wanting coarsest poison; eddying gusts 
 Distinct with writhing forms and tossing 
 
 arms; 
 And round the circle playing here and there 
 The sullen lightning from hate-heated eyes. 
 And stayed against my faithful tree I stood, 
 While all the man within me cried aloud 
 In urgent protestation 'gainst my bonds 
 No power of mine could rend, — although I 
 
 strove 
 With strength by passion trebled. All In vain ; 
 
44 DEATH OF MAID McCREA 
 
 The cord was trusty, and the knot stood sure 
 Against all might. Ah, had my eyes been 
 
 swords, 
 My heart, my soul, my impulse deadly spears, 
 What tide of slaughter then had swept the 
 
 plot, 
 What vengeance washed it clean of every 
 
 foe! 
 And meantime is the midst the maiden stood, 
 Like some large-molded statue aureoled 
 That lifted up in fair tranquility. 
 Blanched a degree, but steadfast, contem- 
 plates 
 The passionate gusts that flourish round its 
 
 base. — 
 A moment ! — Then upon the storm's black 
 
 rim 
 A weapon slowly rose with level gleam. 
 Hung there an instant set and ominous 
 Ere the wild shot screamed out. A leaping 
 
 flame, 
 A gush of livid smoke, and I beheld 
 The maid start suddenly, as if surprised 
 At the hurt done her; saw her shining head 
 Drop with its crown of glory on her breast; 
 I heard a long deep sigh as of a soul 
 Passing to quiet rest ; and sinking down 
 She lay a lovely ruin on the earth. 
 All overflowed with her great wave of hair. 
 And then I saw a hatchet whirl in air 
 And fall upon that poor defenseless head 
 Scarce yet Insensible, — yea and I saw 
 
DEATH OF MAID McCREA 45 
 
 A savage hand twined In those sacred locks, 
 A hell-lit face above, a glitter of steel, 
 And then — and then I saw no more ! I barred 
 With burning lids my eyes against the sight. 
 And turned and laid me on the earth and 
 
 wept, — 
 As I weep now ! Forgive me if I weep ; 
 It helps the heart to grieve a little while; 
 The sluice of tears drains off the flood of woe. 
 And saves the heart from too much mem- 
 ory, — 
 The memory of that deed unparalleled 
 In all the annals of this bloody land 
 Since history began ! 
 
 O there goes forth 
 A cry that shall be quiet never more, 
 A voice to speak unto the years unborn — 
 A voice proclaiming judgment, and a power 
 To trouble thrones, cast reputations down, 
 Beyond wide seas, in other alien lands 
 Our arms can never reach, our laws remold, 
 Our justice rectify. That voice was heard 
 A war-cry thrilling through the patriot souls 
 On Saratoga's field; and flying on 
 It sounded wild! o'er Yorktown, and gave 
 
 back 
 The eagle to our hosts. On ocean's plain 
 It sounded solemnly amid the roar 
 Combined of wind and wave and bellowing 
 
 guns, 
 Filled with heroic madness the strong souls 
 
46 DEATH OF MAID McCREA 
 
 Of seamen, till another answering cry, 
 Again of victory, ran on the waves. 
 Bearing the news to every land o'er sea 
 That Freedom stooping from her spendid 
 
 heights 
 Had lifted up our country to her realm. 
 
THE LOVER'S TRAGEDY 
 
THE LOVER'S TRAGEDY 
 
 The lamp is out long since upon that play ; 
 The actors have departed one by one 
 Home through the darkness. I alone remain, 
 A straying shape upon the fading edge 
 Of that receding drama. Out of time 
 And out of place amid the alien clash 
 Of newer interests, I stay awhile, — 
 A foreigner amid the now and new, — 
 Until the tale is told I only know, 
 Who only live to tell it — then I go. 
 
 You who were pleased to listen for awhile 
 To' my wild story of the gentle girl 
 Dead in the dimness of the lonesome woods. 
 Listen — more briefly — to its kindred tale 
 And climax, named the Lover's Tragedy. 
 
 Remember, when again with sorrowing eyes 
 I looked on things around me from my place, 
 All that mysterious darkness had withdrawn. 
 Again the sun burned full and warm in 
 
 heaven, 
 Once more the birds sang in a thousand trees; 
 The squirrel skipped and sported on his limb. 
 And cast the empty refuse of his feast 
 With clattering jibes upon me where I lay, 
 Then sped with nimble scampering out of 
 
 sight, 
 
 49 
 
so THE LOVER'S TRAGEDY 
 
 Amused at his own wit and my disgrace. 
 A tuning breeze hummed quaintly in my ears 
 Making the leaves shake lightly, while the sun 
 Speckled the rich turf under them with 
 
 gold. — 
 Nature, who closed her eyes on that dark 
 
 deed. 
 Refusing to behold it, now was gay. 
 And made her Sabbath music as before. 
 
 Ah me ! I scarcely knew what next they did, 
 Save that they spared me; — spared my 
 
 broken life. 
 While they had rent my heart and stunned 
 
 my brain, 
 And stabbed my suffering spirit through and 
 
 through 
 With twice the pains of death. They loosed 
 
 my bonds. 
 And bade me rise — not spitefully indeed, 
 Even a little pitifully it seemed — 
 And I arose and made attempt to walk 
 With such poor progress as on limbs be- 
 numbed 
 A man might make along so rough a way. 
 And I was stunned in head and intellect. 
 And moved as one who walks amid a sleep, 
 Scarce feeling pain or pleasure. Everything 
 Seemed strangely dim and dusky round me 
 
 now. 
 And faint and dream-like. All the pleasant 
 
 sounds 
 
THE LOVER'S TRAGEDY 51 
 
 And gladsome sights that charmed the sum- 
 mer wood 
 Came to me through some baffling medium 
 That cloaked the senses. 
 
 So we passed 
 along, 
 My captors strangely temperate with me 
 In my loose pace and stumblings to and fro 
 With feet benumbed and heedless. Yet they 
 
 kept 
 Ever beside me, gliding dim and dark 
 Like demons in a nightmare — creeping, 
 
 creeping, 
 So dumb and constant; it was terrible — 
 Truly they seemed like devils ! 
 
 Slow we went 
 Under the cooling shade, o'er leaf-floors 
 
 spread 
 To deaden more our footfalls; till ere long 
 Around a thrust of tangled torrent-bed 
 We broke upon the dame and her tall guards, 
 Trav'lers more slow than we upon the road 
 That ran we knew not whither. Yet was she 
 Still bright of eye and strenuous of soul. 
 And trod complainingless upon her way. 
 I thought she paled a little when she saw 
 Our band with but one prisoner in the midst. 
 And that the one least present in her 
 
 thoughts, — 
 Perhaps she questioned me by some mute 
 
 sign, 
 
52 THE LOVER'S TRAGEDY 
 
 But I was stunned and dreaming, knowing 
 
 naught, 
 And she bore bravely onward as before. 
 
 At length we reached a cabin hid in woods, 
 Log-built and brown, with hospitable look, 
 A forest inn with loungers round the place, — 
 White men and red who wakened as we 
 
 came. 
 And gathered close and gazed, but nothing 
 
 said, — 
 And dogs and children playing round the 
 
 porch. 
 And here we stayed and rested from our toil. 
 Took food, and such rough comfort as we 
 
 might 
 Being downcast and captive and reserved 
 For what more ill we knew not; — yes, and 
 
 I— 
 At least I cared not! Earth had now for 
 
 me 
 No fate I cared to question or to know, 
 So weary was my life of all things here 
 In this the sickness of a soul o'erwrought. 
 'Mid comings and 'mid goings all that day 
 Of horse and foot — the kinds that use the 
 
 paths 
 Through wilds of scarce-delivered solitudes 
 In new unordered lands, we staid at rest. 
 And unmolested, save they suffered not 
 The grace of speech between us. And all 
 
 night, 
 
THE LOVER'S TRAGEDY 53 
 
 Through supernatural hush within, without, 
 We slept, and woke and sorrowed, slept 
 
 again, 
 And woke at last into another day. 
 
 Soon as the morn was perfect came our guards 
 Around us, while we ate our early meal ; 
 And when 'twas done they led us forth again 
 In silence to the highway, where we turned 
 Once more our faces toward the haunted tract 
 Where sunk in woods lay deep our unknown 
 goal. 
 
 And now our captors grew more frank and 
 
 kind. 
 Somewhat more human and articulate. 
 And not ungently strove to cheer us up. 
 Speaking in words and signs of camps and 
 
 friends, 
 Of ransoms and of coming liberty, — 
 Themes, as they thought, to buoy a captive 
 
 up. 
 And light an eye-gleam In the senseless skull 
 Of rank misfortune ; — unto me all vain. 
 Too heart-sick to rejoice at anything; 
 Too worn with all this seeming senseless 
 
 strife, 
 Of all this noisy war of arms and tongues, 
 These endless themes of battles, battles, 
 
 battles, 
 Of marches, sallies, camps and victories 
 
54 THE LOVER'S TRAGEDY 
 
 Forever on men's tongues ! — sick of the 
 
 land — 
 Sick of the land and all its miseries, 
 And even of life and all that life disclosed! 
 And my companion in captivity, 
 She was too angry still to heed them much, 
 Or answer if she heeded. 
 
 When the sun 
 Burned through the loftier tree-tops on the 
 
 right 
 And glanced upon the path with bashful rays, 
 And well nigh half the summer day was done. 
 We broke the pact of that green lonely world, 
 And saw the land sink suddenly, engulfed 
 Amid a tract of cedar-shadowed soil — 
 The scarce-healed wound of some old torrent- 
 stroke 
 In some far time when all the world was new. 
 
 And there beneath us lay the English camp. 
 Dotting a low knoll with its clustered tents 
 Like cones of fleece amid the blackened wreck, 
 And brown earth scorched by fire. Around 
 
 were walls 
 Of cedar-shade impenetrably wild 
 And dim and lonesome. 'Twas a pretty sight, 
 Touching the soul with a reviving sense 
 Of cheerful life and human fellowship 
 Succeeding that dim march with souls bowed 
 
 down 
 Under the pressure of captivity. 
 And as I looked it seemed as if I saw. 
 
THE LOVER'S TRAGEDY 55 
 
 Instead of tents that sheltered mortal foes, 
 A camp of angels with celestial tents 
 Pitched in the heart of the great wilderness, 
 Gleaming a moment, soon to be withdrawn. 
 
 Our captors shouting, then discharged in air 
 
 Their ready weapons; for their march was 
 done. 
 
 Their danger past, their triumph nigh com- 
 plete. 
 
 And from the camp's rear rose an answering 
 
 And there came streaming forth a troop of 
 
 friends — 
 Friends of our foes — God help us, not of 
 
 ours ! — 
 With cries and leapings, like a pack of dogs 
 Flying with yelps and gam.bolings of joy 
 To meet their kind returning from a raid 
 Upon some innocent sheep-fold, bathed in 
 
 blood 
 And mad with gust of slaughter — so they 
 
 came. 
 A file of soldiers too were soon on foot. 
 Flashing in steel and scarlet up the path; 
 And as they came the clamorous dogs grew 
 
 mute. 
 Ceased their vile gambolings and slunk away 
 O'erawed and cowed. And those whose game 
 
 we were 
 Submitted while the King's men filing round 
 Enclosed and drew us from them. Silently 
 
56 THE LOVER^S TRAGEDY 
 
 With pompous tramp they drew us down the 
 
 slope, 
 And round amid the white tents on our way, 
 To where a log-reared cabin capped with 
 
 bark 
 Appeared, the center of the clustered tents 
 Flecking the knoll. A sentinel in the path 
 Stood by at mute attention as we passed, 
 And eyed us with unmoving countenance. 
 Behind us trailed a line of shadowy forms. 
 Suffered to pass with that mute tolerance 
 That shadows claim which dog us every- 
 where ; — 
 Nay, worse,> — scorned and detested, so it 
 
 seemed. 
 With silent and significant neglect, 
 By these their bounden patrons, paymasters. 
 And nominal fair friends. 
 
 Ere long 
 we stood 
 About the door of the great general's lodge 
 Commanding these strong legions- — men and 
 
 arms, 
 Marching with purple pride and waving flags 
 To crush the weak and nigh dejected few 
 Who bore the burden of this mighty cause — 
 The freedom of the people — on their swords. 
 The red guard parted right and left, and we 
 Passed in between them through the open 
 
 door. 
 My captive friend and I ; and following still, 
 
THE LOVER'S TRAGEDY 57 
 
 Our captors, mute but watchful. Then the 
 
 guard 
 Formed and wheeled off, a sergeant proud 
 
 and tall 
 Stepping with solemn dignity behind. 
 
 A low rude room it was wherein we stood, 
 Divided in the midst by lagging folds 
 Of royal curtains looped along their staff 
 Like banners o'er an archway. All the walls 
 Were cedarn beams yet shaggy with the bark 
 Wherein they grew; and for a floor our feet 
 Stood ankle-deep in bearskins loosely laid 
 To hide the bare and black earth underneath. 
 Around the place were banners, weapons, 
 
 chests 
 Carved, and with mighty clasps of brass 
 
 thereon, 
 Ancient, from over seas. There stood a desk 
 Whereat a pale clerk in half-uniform 
 Sat busy working at his documents, 
 His head upon one side, with slanting eyes 
 Upon the lines formed by his running quill. 
 Lie quit his task, half turning in his seat, 
 Viewing us sharply; smiled then half in scorn 
 At such extreme dejection, "Ah," he said, 
 "Prisoners, I see! Go, orderly, report 
 Tw^o prisoners to the general, and return." 
 And turning to his documents again 
 Wrote on. And the proud soldier at the door 
 Obeyed, his saber clanking as he went. 
 
58 THE LOVER'S TRAGEDY 
 
 Then passed a scene I never shall forget — 
 The strangest play considering time and place 
 My eyes had ever seen. . . . There en- 
 tered now 
 Into tht ttnt and circle through the door 
 Two nxn, pre-eminent by port and garb 
 O'er all the sorts encountered on our way, 
 Whose very air and attitude dispensed 
 The ether of authority. — The one, 
 Troubled of eye and careworn, moving slow; 
 The other young, prince-like, with flashing 
 
 eyes, 
 From whom flowed forth a heat Inpetuous 
 That signified a warrior sound of heart — 
 A fine dark fellow ! 
 
 When within the lodge 
 They stood ere long, the elder from his place 
 Looked round about him, listlessly It seemed, 
 And scornfully reluctant toward the the task 
 He saw full grown before him; till his eyes 
 Within their narrow circuit of survey 
 Found out the cowering dame. — Then all 
 
 was changed ! 
 A soldier's lot finds out a man surprised 
 Full often; but surprises such as this 
 Seldom indeed : 
 
 "Why Madam !" he exclaimed, 
 And "General," she replied, distinct and 
 
 short. 
 And furious from that greeting there arose 
 A storm of tongue and temper unapproached 
 In all my memory of wordy wars — 
 
THE LOVER'S TRAGEDY 59 
 
 The crown and flower of female rallery, 
 Saved by just wrath from mere vulgarity 
 Detestable to see. It was a sight, 
 And not without its laughter, to behold 
 That high commander, memorable of name, 
 The court-be-dizened darling of the wars, 
 Who never bowed before an enemy. 
 Whipped in his tent by one wronged woman's 
 
 tongue. 
 And she his kinswoman from over seas, 
 Bound with his cause in soul and sentiment, 
 A royalist outspoken from the heart ! 
 A doting lion hungering for prey 
 Had pounced upon and caught a lioness ! 
 And now, Sir Lion, look you out for claws ! 
 Ay, and the claws were there; and suddenly 
 Unsheathed, made havoc seven times more 
 
 complete 
 Than sudden swords of alien and adversaries 
 Whom courage might o'ercome. 
 
 "Sir, 
 stand and look! 
 This is a precious piece of gallantry, 
 Right worthy of a royal ofl^cer 
 And gentleman !" 
 
 'Twas thus the gale began. 
 And gathered power and tumult as it blew, 
 Drowning all apposition. 
 
 "By my word," 
 "Upon the honor of a gentleman;" . . , 
 "Madam, I swear!" . . . "Permit me 
 
 but a word;" 
 
6o THE LOVER'S TRAGEDY 
 
 "I never knew — indeed how could I 
 
 know;" ... 
 "I beg you stop and let me say a word;" . . . 
 Twigs in the wind ! 'Twas wonderful to note 
 What gusts of words, what flashes scintellant 
 Of keen sarcastic lightning; shattering bursts 
 Of most authentic thunder; what sharp 
 
 thrusts 
 Of darting irony dealt thick and fast, 
 One following on another like a glance, 
 Poured from the fiery heart and stormy lungs 
 Of that great titaness! 
 
 And ended all 
 In one great cry that filled the tent and shrill- 
 ed, 
 Piercing all ears — 
 
 "Oh there stand 
 murderers here ! 
 Ask them of Jenny — ask of Maid McCrea!" 
 And then the true warm woman in her heart 
 O'ercame at last her rage;, and she sank down 
 Silent, and like a woman all in tears. 
 And then the tongue-stunned chief, remem- 
 bering 
 His breeding and his magnanimity. 
 Brought forth a cloak of folds voluminous 
 And gallantly as ever soldier could 
 Laid it about the shoulders of the dame, 
 Beseeching her to wear it for a time 
 Till, in his thought, a fitting robe be found 
 To better clothe her form. And she arose 
 
THE LOVER'S TRAGEDY 6i 
 
 Muttering short thanks, and shaking down 
 
 the folds 
 Sat down again, her soul immersed in thought. 
 And then the clerk, whose pen had quit its 
 
 task 
 Upon the outbreak of that wordy war. 
 His eyes meanwhile brimful of sparkhng fun 
 And overbubbling humor scarce restrained, 
 Resumed his quill and scratched on as before. 
 The general, mild and all obsequious. 
 Complacent with his tact and management, 
 Stood rubbing hands vivaciously. Behind, 
 Unmoved — impervious, ranged along the 
 
 wall, 
 The Indians stood like shadows darkly 
 
 limned, — 
 But shadows with live eyeballs, now and then 
 Slanting their dusky glimmer, half at rest; — 
 Patient, on foot taking their wonted ease. 
 
 And every mind took on a sense of calm, 
 And every heart conceived a welcome touch 
 Of human fellowship ; and every face 
 Softened to looks of comfort and content 
 At this subsidence ; — every face save one. 
 And that was white and anxious, as the man 
 Moved ceaselessly about the tent's curt space, 
 Restless of eye. A panther might have 
 
 moved 
 Thus while the brush stirred with the hunters' 
 
 steps 
 Closing the hunt around him. As he paced 
 
62 THE LOVER'S TRAGEDY 
 
 His glances played in an incessant search 
 Betwixt the dame and those dumb witnesses 
 Ranged 'gainst the wall with looks inscrutible. 
 Was this the soldier whom my eyes had mark- 
 ed 
 Just now with admiration — princely then 
 With all a graceful carelessness — but now 
 With soul strained like a bowstring while it 
 
 trembles 
 Tense for the shaft ? A little this went on ; — 
 Then burst the prisoned soul forth into speech 
 And action, shattering the shallow crust 
 Of calm o'erlying that profoundest pit 
 Of heart-convulsion. For, with eyes on fire, 
 Great in the splendor of his agony, 
 He strode to meet this last of enemies — 
 The knowledge hid to master him and throw 
 His life adrift upon the waste of years. 
 Swift was the stride that brought him to the 
 
 dame, 
 Fierce almost was the passion of the hand 
 He laid upon her shoulder. And he stood 
 Above her muffled shape with burning eyes, 
 And in her ear with note imperious 
 Heard by all ears beside. 
 
 "Tell me of her; 
 Speak quickly, I command you — What of 
 
 her!" 
 And then the answer came, but not from lips 
 Of any speaking creature. While he spoke 
 Three wild and warlike figures foul with dust 
 
THE LOVER'S TRAGEDY 63 
 
 And soil of darker stain, came gliding in 
 And pausing rolled their restless eyeballs 
 
 round; 
 Silent, constrained in that high company. 
 Yet fierce with gleams of triumph breaking 
 
 through. 
 And as the soldier turned and faced them 
 
 there, 
 One, a wild creature, brawny like a wolf. 
 Raised a strange thing he had, held it aloft. 
 And with a foul forefinger significantly 
 Tapped it and smiled — a grim inhuman 
 
 smile — 
 EvTn for a savage strange and hideous. 
 Then from behind there rose a fearful cry, 
 A woman's cry of anger and despair; 
 As when a lioness, returned from hunt 
 All day for prey to feed her little ones 
 Hungry within their covert, comes at night 
 And scents the bodies of her little ones 
 Slaughtered by hunters; and in rage and 
 
 grief 
 Peals through the wastes her desolated cry. 
 So cried the dame and rose, her mighty frame 
 Aquiver, and her eyes aflame, her hand 
 Pointing — "O, see ! — That is our darling's — 
 
 that — 
 O they have slain — have slain our innocent: — 
 O were there but a man here to avenge 
 That deed ! And then by burning Instinct 
 
 spurred 
 She moved upon the savage; — needless now, 
 
64 THE LOVER'S TRAGEDY 
 
 Because there stood a man and lover there, 
 David, beloved by the gentle girl 
 So loved — then martyred now immortalized ! 
 "That thing my darling's — that — " he stood 
 
 and said 
 In mournful echo of the words the dame 
 Had cried from out her stormy agony. 
 And thus he stood and gazed bewildered 
 
 there — 
 Bewildered for a moment, but no more ! 
 For then there fell and sure and sudden 
 
 stroke 
 That rolled the savage gasping to the floor, 
 Where like a whirlwind passed a furious 
 
 strife 
 Between those fiery warriors w^hite and red; 
 One bent on vengeance deadly in its aim, 
 And one, with wily art and ready tact 
 Evading that one end. From side to side 
 They over and over rolled, until the tent 
 Shook, and the bearskins flew this way and 
 
 that 
 Among the circling spectators, disturbed 
 With panic, this way dodging and then that. 
 To shun the writhing bodies. Thus the strife 
 Went on; and when 'twas finished there arose 
 A soldier breathless, haggard, wild and torn, 
 And in his white right hand that fearful 
 
 gage- 
 That fearful, beauteous gage of strife locked 
 
 fast — 
 The maiden's crown of glory, her bright hair I 
 
THE LOVER'S TRAGEDY 65 
 
 And then he staggered panting through the 
 
 lodge, 
 And found a seat and sat, his face bowed 
 
 down 
 And sunken in his hands in utter woe. 
 And there he staid awhile; then stirred and 
 
 passed 
 A hand across his brow, and o'er his face, 
 And groaned aloud in searching agony. 
 Like an unresting spirit for a time 
 He sat and stirred:— then suddenly arose 
 And groped toward the tent-door, till an arm 
 Was lent in pity, and he leaned on that. 
 And passed from sight, a broken ruined man. 
 
 Once when that night I left my prison tent 
 And stood within the moon's light, with the 
 
 stars 
 Above that secret deadly w^ilderness 
 Flashing their kindly beacons from above; 
 And the wind sighing mournful 'mid the tents. 
 And a far creature crying in the depths — 
 Upon the outmost edge of clustered tents 
 Where the dark earth fell off to blacker 
 
 shades 
 Of dense morass with cedar crowned glooms, 
 I saw within the sad flood of the moon 
 A night-companioned wanderer pass my place, 
 Who when he saw me standing slipped aside 
 And sought the shelter of a distant tent. 
 
 And thus forever wandering without rest, 
 
66 THE LOVER'S TRAGEDY 
 
 From land to land, from place to place he 
 
 goes, 
 Companioned by his soul's deep memories; 
 And for his eyes' sight, with him evermore — 
 Inseparably present where he is, — 
 Memorial glorious of his earthly love, 
 T\\t maiden's crown of glory, her bright hair. 
 
 And like as I beheld him on that night 
 Shall he pass restless, lonely through the 
 
 world. 
 Till death's still tent receives him from the 
 
 night. 
 
One copy del. to Cat. Div. 
 
 DEC 21 1309 f 
 
iflHiiiiiiiniiim 
 
 LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 
 
 015 863 492 2