Shot forth in bright tranquillity, Illuminating all the wood, Within whose ample disk I stood. Yet once again my view I cast; Another changing vision past: A fleecy cloud came from its height, And stood before my wond’ring sight, And parting, like two banners drawn, A figure stept upon the lawn, In size, and color, dress and air Like my own kindred—but more fair. I, wondering much what these should bode, Put question meet—he answer’d—“God, Whom once thy sires, on burning sands, In other years and other lands Most truly served, hath doomed thy race To melt before the white-man’s face, To fail in battle, and in store, A scorn—a by-word on the shore; For ye from his commands have turn’d, And ye unholy fires have burn’d, And with new altars and abodes Set up and worship’d other gods, And through unholy rites and sin, In word and deed become unclean; And for a season he hath given Your nations to the wrath of heaven, By divers men from foreign climes, Who loathe your waywardness and crimes, And congregate from far and near To worship God in spirit here.” ’Tis well, I said; but tell me true, What bodes this vision to my view? It comes with a prophetic air, But can I see the Red Race there? “The little waves which erst thou spy’d, Calm and unruffled,” he replied, “Denote the earliest flag unfurl’d, Advent’rous in this western world; Whence gaining strength, in heart and hand, The stranger spreads along the strand, Like tumbling waves, whose onward way No human force can check or stay. The monster rising from the sea, Imports dominion—once by thee In peace and war triumphant sway’d, But now to other hands convey’d; His horns of brass and claws of steel, A more obdurate power reveal; His altered, red and fiery hair, Denotes unnumbered means of war, Complex inventions, sharp and true, Such as thy fathers never knew, Whereby the rule at first he gains, And then with growing power maintains; The leader is that iron race, Who drive thee on, from place to place, And long have driv’n, and long shall drive, The waning, scattered, Indian hive, Till they forsake th’accursed road, And turn to virtue, peace, and God. Then shall they quit the forest gloom, The sceptre and the plough resume, Renounce all base, revengeful ires, Rebuild the altars, light the fires, And cherish every sweet employ Denoted by the bird of joy, Whose beaming eyes, with stellar light, Shall chase away barbaric night, And teach thy race in holy lays To sing the great Elohim’s praise.” CANTO V. THE FALL OF THE MUSCOGEE RACE. THE VOLUNTARY EXILE. [Scene in reminiscence. The valley of the Coosa river, and parts adjacent.] ALHALLA.