English

A tall brave man of gray three score,
The sable columns rode before,
The knightliest of the knightly throng,
The bravest of the brave and strong
Who on the field of Nashville stood
Against the hosts of gallant Hood;
When noble Thomas, mild and brave,
Against the armed master, threw the former slave.

Rodney had left his home in foreign lands,
And laid his life into our country's hands,
His struggling kindred's conquests proud to share,
For he beheld acknowledged manhood there.
And this the grandest day that ever rose

The laughter of sleigh bells was heard on the lips of the snow storm
All day long, and passers were scarcely seen thro' the falling flakes
Hurriedly going, wrapped close, and one not speaking to another.
'Twas bitter cold, and the stiffened forests tossed in the northern blast;
And the great old pines, as the gale smote their snowy heads, grumbled;
And seemed in their anguish to mutter: " Let loose our hair and our whiskers! "
The slow wreathes of smoke curled dreamily thro' the still branches

Canadian farmers came oft to the little green cottage,
To see their new neighbors and hear them tell over their troubles.
The tales of their pilgrimage e'er to their hearers had new charms;
And instances, once told, cloyed not in repeating them over.

Thus it was that farmers, as rough as the oaks in their forests,
But open, and clever, and frank as the brooks in their meadows,
Came oft in the twilight and sat in the door of the cottage,
And said: " We would hear of the land of the poor sable bondman. "

Sweet vale of the Sussex! the pride of the Queen,
Whose life has a reign of beneficence been;
The flow'r of Britana's possessions afar
In the cold land, that lies beneath the North star.
No slaveholder's foot e'er polluted thy soil,
No slave in thy fields ever bended to toil
As Bunyan's poor Christian who, fleeing for life,
Left the land of Destruction, and children and wife,
And saw as the shadow of Calv'ry he crost,
His burden rolled down and forever was lost;
So, when the poor fugitive, foot-sore and wan,

Fort Dearborn is a strong and goodly place,
And o'er the frontier looks with valiant face
To greet the hostile tread of savage harm,
With tongue of thunder and an iron arm.
Far up he stands, on a commanding ground,
With grizly turrets rising high around:
Block houses rude protect the outer posts,
Where pass the sentries quick before the camping hosts.

Here, erst, as eagle drives the trembling dove
O'er meadows broad, to shelt'ring cliffs above;
Proud Black Hawk rose, stern monarch of the wood,

The idle winds at dawn that strayed
Thro' wavy depths of joyous shade,
The early chirp of breeze-swung boughs,
The carol of the mountain brows,
The far off brawl of farms that broke
The drowsy silence of the morn,
And eager baying which awoke
Responsive to the flying horn,
In covert near, or echoing dell,
On Rodney's ear like omens fell;
For troubled Dearborn he had found
In need of all his garrison;
And now for Saville sadly bound
His pensive footsteps wander'd on.

Wild, strangely broken landscapes lay

Lo! the old Sac village slumbered
In the basin of the Wabash,
And the doorway of the vallies,
Like some brown old matron napping
On the threshold of her cottage,
When her distaff lieth idle.
All the plaintive vale was cooing,
And the hazy hills were piping,
And the mournful gales were flapping
Thro' their somber realms of sere woods.
Sang the crane migrating southward,
Answered the itin'rant heron
In her dank and grassy rev'rie,
By the blue and pensive waters
Then it was that sate the Stabber;

Where the dark ash upward towereth,
And the maple drops her brown shade,
And the rough oak spreads his broad arms,
And the wild vine weaves her festoons;
Where the noon breeze pants for sunlight,
And the sunbeams wandereth shyly,
And the night-winds wrestleth lightly,
With the lone leaf of the forest;
Where the moon-beams creepeth softly,
In a dim veil looking faintly;
In this ancient grand high forest,
In the right hand of Kaskaskia,
And the left hand of Cahokia,
And the regions of the Wabash;

When the Stabber's speech had ended,
And his presents all were gathered,
And his pipe the chiefs had all smoked,
Four young chiefs of goodly mein, came
Round the princess of the forest,
And upon the tent floor kneeling,
Made obesience to her lowly.
Then they rose and gave her presents,
Costly beads and many colored
One presented, one a necklace
Of rare stones, one silver brooches
For her hair, and one gold wristlets.
All then went and sat in silence,
Waiting for the maiden's answer.

Pashepaho heard the young men
Till their lofty words had ended,
And in accents stern, thus answered:
" For your presents, I am thankful.
By your speeches I'm encouraged.
Peace now lighteth all the Nations
As a noon sun lights the prairies.
Time once was when peace was broken
Up in all our Western borders.
Horsed on fire, bloody battle
Rode throughout our ancient forests.
From his home within the sunrise,
From his land of bells and steeples,
From the regions of the East wind,
The hoar dwelling place of Wabun,