Beneath her Father's roof, alone She seemed to live; her thoughts her own; Herself her own delight: Pleased with herself, nor sad nor gay, She passed her time; and in this way Grew up to Woman's height. There came a Youth from Georgia's shore A military Casque he wore With splendid feathers drest; He brought them from the Cherokees; The feathers nodded in the breeze, And made a gallant crest. From Indian blood you deem him sprung: Ah no! he spake the English tongue, And bore a Soldier's name; And, when America was free From battle and from jeopardy, He 'cross the ocean came. With hues of genius on his cheek In finest tones the Youth could speak. -While he was yet a Boy. The moon, the glory of the sun, And streams that murmur as they run, Had been his dearest joy. He was a lovely Youth! I guess The panther in the wilderness Was not so fair as he; And when he chose to sport and play, No dolphin ever was so gay Upon the tropic sea. Among the Indians he had fought; And with him many tales he brought Of pleasure and of fear; Such tales as, told to any Maid By such a Youth, in the green shade, Were perilous to hear. He told of Girls, a happy rout! Who quit their fold with dance and shout, Their pleasant Indian Town To gather strawberries all day long, Returning with a choral song When day-light is gone down. He spake of plants divine and strange That every hour their blossoms change, Ten thousand lovely hues ! With budding, fading, faded flowers They stand the wonder of the bowers Of march and ambush, siege and fight, Wild histories they were, and dear: Sometimes most earnestly he said; "O Ruth! I have been worse than dead: False thoughts, thoughts bold and vain, Encompassed me on every side "It was a fresh and glorious world, A banner bright that was unfurled Before me suddenly: I looked upon those hills and plains, And seemed as if let loose from chains To live at liberty. "But wherefore speak of this? for now, Sweet Ruth! with thee, I know not how, I feel my spirit burn Even as the east when day comes forth; The morning doth return. "It is a purer, better mind: O Maiden innocent and kind, He told of the Magnolia*, spread High as a cloud, high over head! The Cypress and her spire, -Of flowers+ that with one scarlet gleam To set the hills on fire. * Magnolia grandiflora. The splendid appearance of these scarlet flowers, which are scattered with such profusion over the Hills in the Southern parts of North America, is frequently mentioned by Bartram in his Travels. |