(Carlisle, Pa., December 31, 1764) The Indian war was over, And Pennsylvania's towns Welcomed the blessed calm that comes When peace a conflict crowns. Bitter and long had been the strife, But gallant Colonel Bouquet Had forced the foe to sue for grace, And named the joyful day When Shawnees, Tuscarawas, Miamis, Delawares, And every band that roved the land And called a captive theirs-- From the pathless depths of the forest, By stream and dark defile, Should bring their prisoners, on their lives, In safety to Carlisle; Carlisle in the Cumberland valley, Where Conodogwinnet flows, And the guardian ranges, north and south, In mountain pride repose. Like the wind the Colonel's order To hamlet and clearing flew; And mourning mothers and wives and sons From banks where Delaware seaward runs, From Erie's wave, and Ohio's tide, And the vales where the southern hills divide, Flocked to the town, perchance to view, At last, 'mid the crowds by the startled square, The faces lost, but in memory fair. How strange the scene on the village green That morning cold and gray! To right the Indian tents were set, And in groups the dusky warriors met, While their captives clung to the captors yet, As wild and bronzed as they-- In rags and skins, with moccasined feet, Some loath to part, some fain to greet The friends of a vanished day; And, eagerly watching the tents, to left Stood mothers and sons and wives bereft, While, beyond, were the throngs from hill and valley, And, waiting the keen-eyed Colonel's rally, The troops in their brave array. Now friends and captives mingle, And cries of joy or woe Thrill the broad street as loved ones meet, Or in vain the tale of the past repeat, And back in anguish go. Among them lingered a widow-- From the Suabian land was she-- And one fell morning she had lost Husband and children three, All slain save the young Regina, A captive spared to be. Nine weary years had followed, But the wilderness was dumb, And never a word to her aching heart Through friend or foe had come, And now, from Tulpehocken, Full seventy miles away, She had walked to seek her daughter, The Lord her only stay.