THE INDIAN.

CANTO VI.

Be kind, O Muse, to retrospect awake,

And guilty lovers in their tent forsake ;

Paint the wrung feelings of that worthy man,
Whose mortal woes from Susan's flight began:
How feeble age had lost a daughter's prop,
And black Despair succeeds to smiling Hope!
The morning sun around th' encampment shone,
And show'd a scene strew'd round with many a bone.
Some, still in dreams, the glorious feast renew,

And from the cask the sparkling liquor drew. 10

The wither'd King uprose among the first,

15

Whose quaffings ended in a parching thirst:
In vain he stoops and draws the squeaking peg,
As not a drop roll'd in the empty keg.
He calls his daughter with parental care:
Alas! he found no Susan answer'd there;
Then with his staff he rouses ev'ry man
To meet in council, and arrange a plan ;
That he whose deeds they lately did extol,
Had sure last night his lovely daughter stole.
Th' astonish'd Indians, rising from the ground,
With drowsy looks their aged King surround:
When now that youth, call'd Bloody Sack to name,
Starts like the savage when he springs his game;
His kindling thoughts th' impatient words provoke,
And thus in fury to the circle spoke :

"Behold, O King, a man at your command,

20

26

To hunt your daughter through each distant land;

O'er raging seas, or in the gloomy wood,

Till sweet revenge shall drink her faithless blood; And he who dar'd my promis'd bride decoy, 30 Tho' false her heart, that heart shall ne'er enjoy : But action calls that quick-ey'd minds agree,

If time is lost what serves the wise decree."

35

The same ideas the savage group declare,
They load their guns and scalping-knives prepare,
When last of all their aged father rose,

Whose weighty words the murd'rous cry oppose:

"Let not, my sons, indignant passions rise, Nor careless youth experienc'd age despise.

40

Such is my grief, so poignant my distress,

That fault'ring speech can scarce my thoughts

express :

My long unsullied line in Tonie's name,

Involv'd and brandish'd with a daughter's shame;

My comfort's fled, my lovely Susan lost;

My aged years with keen vexations cross'd,
Too much, I fear, for this old frame to bear.
But ere you go, a father's voice shall hear :

Remember, sons, the honour of your race;

Let no base acts thy country's name disgrace;

45

My daughter's charms that foreign youth be

tray'd,

And his kind heart the softer Susan sway'd.

Fair Freedom tells us, with her heavenly voice,

Great are the dangers from a thwarted choice.

Perhaps this boy, for whose young life you burn, 55

May to our camps in nuptial bliss return;

May yet revive the terror of our name,

And check the progress of the Mohocks fame;

But if pursued with persecuting hand,

He flies the limits of our cruel land.

60

Of life enough-O death! extinguish grief;

The grave alone can now afford relief.

Two ancient oaks thus on a mountain grew,

And from the earth their vital substance drew, 100

With trunks majestic, and with limbs so tall,

For ages past had seen their neighbours fall,

Till steeling Time their palsied fibres shrink,
With ev'ry blast they nod o'er Ruin's brink.
The tempest howls; the woodland monarch's laid
Prone in the dust beneath his consort's shade: 106
She melancholy next awaits the coming gales,
And death triumphant o'er the earth prevails.
When grief subsides and calms the troubled brain,
From record sacred breathes the mournful strain. 110
To Heaven's high will each savage voice is rais'd,
And 'midst the woods the great Creator's prais'd.
Dark night succeeds, and light in haste withdrew,
When horrid phantoms danc'd across the view;