Poems (Ford)/The Cherokee
THE CHEROKEE.
He stood on a cliff that o'erlooked the green valley
Where lately the homes of his kindred were seen,
And mournfully gazed on the smoke-blackened ruins
That told where the Cherokee lodges had been.
Where lately the homes of his kindred were seen,
And mournfully gazed on the smoke-blackened ruins
That told where the Cherokee lodges had been.
The blue-mantled hills raised their foreheads to welcome
The morn, as she crowned them with circlets of gold,
And 'mid the thick groves of the blooming magnolias
Their beautiful rivers still oceanward rolled.
The morn, as she crowned them with circlets of gold,
And 'mid the thick groves of the blooming magnolias
Their beautiful rivers still oceanward rolled.
The fleet-footed deer through the free forest bounded,
The thickets still echoed the mocking-bird's strain,
Pure cascades of crystal leaped down from the mountains,
And garlands of flowers still wreathed the green plain.
The thickets still echoed the mocking-bird's strain,
Pure cascades of crystal leaped down from the mountains,
And garlands of flowers still wreathed the green plain.
But upward no more curled the smoke from the wigwams;
All still as the grave lay the valley below;
The voices of warrior, of matron and maiden,
Were quenched in their life-blood, or silenced in woe.
All still as the grave lay the valley below;
The voices of warrior, of matron and maiden,
Were quenched in their life-blood, or silenced in woe.
Fierce glowed the brown cheek of the dusky-skinned warrior,
And anguish looked out from his dark, mournful eye,
As sadly he murmured, "Oh, graves of our kindred,
Oh, home of our Nation, from thee must we fly?
And anguish looked out from his dark, mournful eye,
As sadly he murmured, "Oh, graves of our kindred,
Oh, home of our Nation, from thee must we fly?
"The beautiful country the Manitou gave us,
With vine-mantled hill-sides, and forests of flowers,
Our land of green plains and of clear, gushing rivers—
Alas! that it can not forever be ours.
With vine-mantled hill-sides, and forests of flowers,
Our land of green plains and of clear, gushing rivers—
Alas! that it can not forever be ours.
"In flying canoes o'er the great ocean water
The pale-faces came from the far sunrise lands,
With words like the song of the wren in the spring-time,
With smiles on their false lips and death in their hands.
The pale-faces came from the far sunrise lands,
With words like the song of the wren in the spring-time,
With smiles on their false lips and death in their hands.
"Though fair were their faces, black hearts lay beneath them;
Their greedy eyes longed for our hunting-grounds wide,
And vainly they strove with false words to beguile us
Away from the spot where our forefathers died.
Their greedy eyes longed for our hunting-grounds wide,
And vainly they strove with false words to beguile us
Away from the spot where our forefathers died.
"Close, close clung the hearts of thy children around thee,
Our rock-girdled Eden, our beautiful land;
It seemed the great Manitou sat on thy mountains,
And poured down his blessings with bountiful hand.
Our rock-girdled Eden, our beautiful land;
It seemed the great Manitou sat on thy mountains,
And poured down his blessings with bountiful hand.
"The graves of our kindred, the homes of our children,
The dear haunts of youth were bright links in the chain
That bound us to thee, and our loved and departed
With mute lips seemed striving to bid us remain.
The dear haunts of youth were bright links in the chain
That bound us to thee, and our loved and departed
With mute lips seemed striving to bid us remain.
Then calmly our warriors told the pale strangers
They wished by the graves of their fathers to stay,
That there they might sleep, and their children beside them,
When called to the far land of spirits away.
They wished by the graves of their fathers to stay,
That there they might sleep, and their children beside them,
When called to the far land of spirits away.
"Wild shrieked our gray cliffs as they heard the loud thunder
The pale-faces hurled 'midst our warriors brave,
And now in the wreck of our once happy homesteads
Braves, maidens and children lie heaped in one grave.
The pale-faces hurled 'midst our warriors brave,
And now in the wreck of our once happy homesteads
Braves, maidens and children lie heaped in one grave.
"Too weak to avenge thee, I leave thee in sorrow,
Dear spot, ere the plough of the stranger I see
Uprooting the graves of thy people, and crushing
The bones of the heroes who perished for thee.
Dear spot, ere the plough of the stranger I see
Uprooting the graves of thy people, and crushing
The bones of the heroes who perished for thee.
"Farewell, oh, farewell, beloved land of our people,
Our arrows are broken, our warriors slain;
The sad eyes that gaze on thy beauty and sorrow
Can never return to behold thee again."
Our arrows are broken, our warriors slain;
The sad eyes that gaze on thy beauty and sorrow
Can never return to behold thee again."