Classic Poem

Not yet at rest, my Sister! quoth the Prince,
As at her dwelling-door he saw the Maid
Sit gazing on that lovely moonlight scene: —
To bed, Goervyl. Dearest, what hast thou
To keep thee wakeful here at this late hour,
When even I shall bid a truce to thought,
And lay me down in peace? — Good night, Goervyl!
Dear sister mine, — my own dear mother's child!

She rose, and bending on with lifted arms,
Met the fond kiss, obedient then withdrew.
Yet could not be so lightly as he ween'd
Lay wakeful thoughts aside; for he foresaw
Long strife and hard adventure to achieve,
And forms of danger vague disturb'd his dreams.

Early at morn the colonists arose;
Some pitch the tent-pole, and pin down the lines
That stretch the o'er-awning canvass; to the wood
Others, with saw, and axe, and bill, for stakes
And undergrowth to weave the wicker walls;
These to the ships, with whom Cadwallon sends
The Elk and Bison, broken to the yoke.

Ere noon Erillyab and her son arrived,
To greet the Chief. She wore no longer now
The lank, loose locks of careless widowhood;
Her braided tresses round her brow were bound,
Bedeck'd with tufts of gray and silvery plumes,
Pluck'd from the eagle's pennons. She, with eye
And countenance which spake no feign'd delight,
Welcomed her great deliverer. But her son
Had Nature character'd so legibly,
That, when his tongue told fair, his face bewray'd
The lurking falsehood; sullen, slow of speech,
Savage, down-looking, dark, that at his words
Of welcome, Madoc in his heart conceived
Instinctive enmity.
In a happy hour
Did the Great Spirit, said Erillyab,
Give bidding to the Winds to speed thee here!
For this I made my prayer; and when He sent
For the Beloved Teacher, to restore him
Eyesight and youth, of him I then besought,
As he had been thy friend and ours on earth,
That he would intercede. — Brother, we know
That the Great Spirit loves thee; He hath blest
Thy going and thy coming, and thy friends
Have prosper'd for thy sake; and now, when first
The Powers of Evil do begin to work,
Lo! thou art here! — Brother, we have obeyed
Thy will, and the Beloved Teacher's words
Have been our law; but now the Evil Ones
Cry out for blood, and say they are athirst,
And threaten vengeance. I have brought the Priest
To whom they spake in darkness — Thou art wise,
And the great Spirit will enlighten thee; —
We know not what to answer — Tell thy tale,
Neolin!
Hereat did Madoc fix upon him
A searching eye; but he, no whit abash'd,
Began with firm effrontery his speech.
The Feast of the Departed is at hand,
And I, in preparation, on the Field
Of the Spirit past the night. It came to me
In darkness, after midnight, when the moon
Was gone, and all the stars were blotted out;
It gather'd round me, with a noise of storms,
And enter'd into me, and I could feel
It was the Snake-God roll'd and writhed within;
And I, too, with the inward agony,
Roll'd like a snake, and writhed. Give! gives cried:
I thirst! — His voice was in me, and it burnt
Like fire, and all my flesh and bones were shake
Till, with a throe which seem'd to rend my joan
Asunder, he past forth, and I was left,
Speechless and motionless, gasping for breath.

Then Madoc, turning to Ayayaca,
Inquired, Who is the man? — The good old Priest
Replied, He hath attended from his youth
The Snake-God's temple, and received for him
His offerings, and perform'd his sacrifiee,
Till the Belov'd Teacher made us leave
The wicked way.
Hear me! quoth Neolin,
With antic gesture and loud vehemence;
Before this generation, and before
These ancient forests, — yea, before yon lake
Was hollow'd out, or one snow-feather fell
On yonder mountain-top, now never bare,
Before these things I was, — where, or from whence,
I know not, — who can tell? But then I was,
And in the shadow of the Spirit stood;
And I beheld the Spirit, and in him
Saw all things, even as they were to be;
And I held commune with him, not of words,
But thought with thought. Then was it given me
That I should choose my station when my hour.
Of mortal birth was come, — hunter, or chief,
Or to be mightiest in the work of war,
Or in the shadow of the Spirit live,
And He in me. According to my choice,
Forever, overshadow'd by his power,
I walk among mankind. At times I feel not
The burden of his presence; then am I
Like other men; but when the season comes,
Or if I seek the visitation, then
He fills me, and my soul is carried on,
And then do I forelive the race of men,
So that the things that will be, are to me
Past.
Amalahta lifted then his eyes
A moment; — It is true, he cried; we know
He is a gifted man, and wise beyond
The reach of mortal powers. Ayayaca
Hath also heard the warning.
As I slept,
Replied the aged Priest, upon the Field
Of the Spirit, a loud voice awaken'd me,
Crying, I thirst! Give, — give! or I will take.
And then I heard a hiss, as if a snake
Were threatening at my side. — But saw you nothing?
Quoth Madoc. — Nothing; for the night was dark.
And felt you nothing? said the Ocean Prince.
He answered, Nothing; only sudden fear. —
No inward struggle, like possession? — None.
I thought of the Beloved Teacher's words,
And cross'd myself, and then he had no power.

Thou hast slept heretofore upon the Field,
Said Madoc; didst thou never witness voice,
Or ominous sound? Ayayaca replied,
Certes the Field is holy! it receives,
All the year long, the operative power
Which falleth from the sky, or from below
Pervades the earth; no harvest groweth there,
Nor tree, nor bush, nor herb, is left to spring;
But there, the virtue of the elements
Is gathered, till the circle of the months
Be full; then, when the Priest, by mystic rites,
Long vigils, and long abstinence prepared,
Goeth there to pass the appointed night alone,
The whole collected influence enters him.
Doubt not but I have felt strange impulses
On that mysterious Field, and in my dreams
Been visited; and have heard sounds in the air,
I knew not what; — but words articulate
Never till now. It was the Wicked One!
He wanted blood.
Who says the Wicked One?
It was our fathers' God! cried Neolin.
Sons of the Ocean, why should we forsake
The worship of our fathers? Ye obey
The White Man's Maker; but to us was given
A different skin, and speech, and land, and law.
The Snake-God understands the Red Man's prayer,
And knows his wants, and loves him. Shame be to us,
That since the Stranger here set foot among us,
We have let his lips be dry!
Enough! replied
Madoc, who, at Cadwallon's look, repress'd
His answering anger. We will hold a talk
Of this hereafter. Be ye sure, meantime,
That the Great Spirit will from Evil Powers
Protect his people. This, too, be ye sure,
That every deed of darkness shall be brought
To light, — and woe be to the lying lips!