The compact for a cession of their land Was nearly ended, when a far-famed chief Rose with the lofty bearing of command, Though lip and brow denoted inward grief: Nought broke the silence save the rustling leaf, And the low murmur of the lulling wave; He drew his blanket round him, and a brief, But proud description of his fathers gave, Then spoke of perished tribes, and glory in the grave. “And who be ye?” he said, in scornful tones, And glance of kindling hate—“Who offer gold For hunting-grounds made holy by the bones Of our great seers and sagamores of old? Men who would leave our hearths and altars cold— Unstring the bow, and break the hunting-spear— Our pleasant huts with sheeted flame infold, Then drive our starving, wailing race in fear Beyond the western hills, like broken herds of deer. “Wake, On-gue-hon-we![D] Strike the pointed-post, And gather quickly for the conflict dire; You Long-knives are forerunners of a host, Thick as the sparks when prairies are on fire; Let childhood grasp the weapon of his sire— Arm, arm for deadly struggle, one and all While wives and babes to secret haunts retire: The ghosts of buried fathers on ye call To guard their ancient tombs from sacrilege or fall!” Dark forms rose up, and brows began to lower, While many a savage eye destruction glared; But one came forth in that portentous hour, Ere shaft was aimed, or dagger fully bared, And hushed the storm. Old Houneyawus dared His voice upraise; and by his friendly aid The knife was sheathed—the pioneer was spared; Above that humane warrior of the shade Let marble tell the tale in lines that cannot fade. All hail our early settlers! though with storm Their sky of being was obscured and black, And Peril, in his most appalling form, Opposed their rugged march, and warned them back: They faltered not, or fainted in the track That led to empire; but with patience bore Cold, parching thirst, and fever’s dread attack; While ancient Twilight, to return no more, From far Otsego fled to Erie’s rock-bound shore. They toiled, though Hunger with his wasted mien, Stalked through their infant settlements, and night Lured from the gloomy cavern, gaunt and lean, Droves of disturbing wolves, that hated light, Some wan and trembling mourner to affright With their dismaying howls, around the place Where coldly still, and newly hid from sight, Earth folded loved ones in her damp embrace, Without recording tomb their forest mounds to grace.