So flies the Indian in his native rynd,
Who mocks all speed, and leaves the ship behind;
Each little sail sucks full the aerial force,
Swift as the winds they wing their destin'd course,
All proudly stretching cross the azure bay,
On whose glad shores meridian sun-beams play.
Hark! from the van the hunter's horn is blown,
And thro' the fleet the royal signal's known;
A flock of Brante, that love the grassy shore, 55
Could not escape the vigilant Commodore :
Quick from the rear three sail are order'd off;
They haul their wind, and steer with steady luff;
A cautious course the knowing pilots keep,
Decoy the Brante into a neighb'ring creek: 60
Their wise approaches show the fowler's art,
While quick manœuvrers perform the useful part:
Meanwhile the squadron on the larboard wore,
And smoothly stretching brought the smiling shore.
Soon as the rear the op'ning creek had made, 65
Down goes the sail to form the close blockade;
The next in turn at musket range lays too,
Till round the creek the warlike crescent grew;
While one canoe the num'rous wings surprise,
Th' impatient heroes wait the coming prize; 70
Th' extensive flock directs its lazy flight,
With leading column, towards the squadron's right;
The head canoes a heavy broadside pour,
And death and wounds attend the leaden show'r;
Th' astonish'd Brante, recoiling at the shock, 75
Across the centre wheel the scatter'd flock;
Where fate still worse arrests the pow'rful wing,
And thro' their ranks the dreadful volleys ring;
With fire reserv'd the left all stragglers meet,
Where noted marksmen gall the dire retreat; 80
Amidst the smoke the active dogs appear,
And thro' the waves their bleeding prizes bear.
Pleas'd in the task, each knows his own canoe;
Some fetch the dead, and some the wing'd pursue,
The chiefs again the fav'ring winds obey;
They spread their sails, and leave the marshy bay.
The pow'rful breezes awe the lofty pine;
Along the shore the forest waves sublime;
The partridge hawk pursues his aërial flight,
And owls, lamenting, mourn for gloomy night: 90
No human foot there treads the Sylvan scene,
But tracts imprinted show that monsters reign;
Yet on this theatre nightly sports abound,
And loves and murders have their constant round;
The minx and martins form a trait'rous league, 95
And amorous wild-cats seek the soft intrigue ;
The subtile fox displays his comic art,
And growling bears sustain the tragic part,
But lo! the breeze assumes a haughtier tone,
And youthful elms their ancient sires bemoan, 100
Whose wither'd fibres still to earth cling fast,
Untir'd of life, reluctant hear the blast.
The troubled waves with angry aspect rise,
Before the wind the little squadron flies;
Like to some duck that loves the stormy tide, 105
And swims triumphant on the billows side;
Undaunted Indians in their bark confide,
And o'er each surge in utmost safety ride.
Full fifty miles the royal fleet had run,
When op'ning clouds display'd the setting sun;
Once more the chief applies his sonorous horn, 111
To make the land, and leave the brooding storm :
With one consent they plough the raging foam,
In ev'ry wood the Indian finds his home;
Amidst the surf that beats the barren sand,
The slender ships requir'd a skilful hand;
To watch the swell, still toils the manly arm,
Till on the shore the squadron's safe from harm.
Hard by this beach a mountain's rugged steep,
In woodland grandeur view'd the troubled deep, 120
Through whose fresh soil, that show'd a virgin clay,
A murm'ring brook had forc'd its winding way:
Beneath the shelter of this lofty hill
Quick rose the camp along the noisy rill.
All hands employ'd, the work goes on apace: 125
Industrious Squa's first chalk a circular place :
And now the fire the eye delighted sees,
While glitt'ring axes shine among the trees;
A dozen poles, close pointed to the sky,
At once the comforts of the house supply;
With these slight walls three rolls of bark agree,
Whose pliant skin once grac'd the white birch-tree,
With pores so firm, possessing water-proof,
It forms their ships, or suits the humble roof:
Sweet-scented boughs each little fire surround, 135
And Nature's sofa clothes the leafy ground;
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