Through toiling care and lengthen'd views, that share alike our span, Gay, smiling hope her heaven pursues, the eternal friend of man: The darkness of the days to come she brightens with her ray, And smiles o'er Nature's gaping tomb, when sickening to decay! [274] This is Freneau's hymn of thanksgiving at the close of the war. Text from the 1795 edition, where, as far as I can discover, it was first published. THE DYING INDIAN[275] TOMO-CHEQUI "On yonder lake I spread the sail no more! Vigour, and youth, and active days are past-- Relentless demons urge me to that shore On whose black forests all the dead are cast:-- Ye solemn train, prepare the funeral song, For I must go to shades below, Where all is strange and all is new; Companion to the airy throng!-- What solitary streams, In dull and dreary dreams, All melancholy, must I rove along! To what strange lands must Chequi take his way! Groves of the dead departed mortals trace: No deer along those gloomy forests stray, No huntsmen there take pleasure in the chace, But all are empty unsubstantial shades, That ramble through those visionary glades; No spongy fruits from verdant trees depend, But sickly orchards there Do fruits as sickly bear, And apples a consumptive visage shew, And withered hangs the hurtle-berry blue. Ah me! what mischiefs on the dead attend! Wandering a stranger to the shores below, Where shall I brook or real fountain find? Lazy and sad deluding waters flow-- Such is the picture in my boding mind! Fine tales, indeed, they tell Of shades and purling rills, Where our dead fathers dwell Beyond the western hills, But when did ghost return his state to shew; Or who can promise half the tale is true? I too must be a fleeting ghost!--no more-- None, none but shadows to those mansions go; I leave my woods, I leave the Huron shore, For emptier groves below! Ye charming solitudes, Ye tall ascending woods, Ye glassy lakes and prattling streams, Whose aspect still was sweet, Whether the sun did greet, Or the pale moon embraced you with her beams-- Adieu to all! To all, that charmed me where I strayed, The winding stream, the dark sequestered shade; Adieu all triumphs here! Adieu the mountain's lofty swell, Adieu, thou little verdant hill, And seas, and stars, and skies--farewell, For some remoter sphere!