poems.
109
Where lofty elms their branches tossed
And paths innumerable cross'd,
The swelling hills that verdant rose
Above the forest's deep repose,
He saw the wild and wreathing smoke
Of Indian tents; but rudely broke
Upon his now affrighted ears,
'Quenching all joyousness in tears,
The frantic song that loudly gave
Its echo to the mountain cave,
Proclaiming deeds of darkness done,
Or boasting mischiefs unbegun!
He turn'd to flee,—but ah! too late!
Twas vain to fly! he'd sought his fate!
The darkest Indian of them all
Held his soft trembling hands in thrall,
And bade him hasten to his tent
Where many a day must now be spent
Ah, well might Odo's heart beat fast
To find himself with strangers cast;
And well astonish'd might his eyes
Rest on the groups that round him rise!
Their wild hair streaming in the wind.
Their blankets flowing wide behind,
Their buskins dyed in many a hue
'Grotesquely shining in his view;
And paths innumerable cross'd,
The swelling hills that verdant rose
Above the forest's deep repose,
He saw the wild and wreathing smoke
Of Indian tents; but rudely broke
Upon his now affrighted ears,
'Quenching all joyousness in tears,
The frantic song that loudly gave
Its echo to the mountain cave,
Proclaiming deeds of darkness done,
Or boasting mischiefs unbegun!
He turn'd to flee,—but ah! too late!
Twas vain to fly! he'd sought his fate!
The darkest Indian of them all
Held his soft trembling hands in thrall,
And bade him hasten to his tent
Where many a day must now be spent
Ah, well might Odo's heart beat fast
To find himself with strangers cast;
And well astonish'd might his eyes
Rest on the groups that round him rise!
Their wild hair streaming in the wind.
Their blankets flowing wide behind,
Their buskins dyed in many a hue
'Grotesquely shining in his view;
