I may not paint those thousand infant charms; (Unconscious fascination, undesigned!) The orison repeated in his arms, For God to bless her sire and all mankind; The book, the bosom on his knee reclined, Or how sweet fairy-lore he heard her con, (The playmate ere the teacher of her mind:) All uncompanioned else her heart had gone Till now, in Gertrude’s eyes, their ninth blue summer shone. XIII. And summer was the tide, and sweet the hour, When sire and daughter saw, with fleet descent, An Indian from his bark approach their bower, Of buskined limb, and swarthy lineament;[33] The red wild feathers on his brow were blent, And bracelets bound the arm that helped to light A boy, who seemed, as he beside him went, Of Christian vesture, and complexion bright, Led by his dusky guide, like morning brought by night. XIV. Yet pensive seemed the boy for one so young— The dimple from his polished cheek had fled; When, leaning on his forest-bow unstrung, The Oneyda warrior to the planter said, And laid his hand upon the stripling’s head, “Peace be to thee! my words this belt[34] approve; The paths of peace my steps have hither led:[33] This little nursling, take him to thy love, And shield the bird unfledged, since gone the parent dove. XV. “Christian! I am the foeman of thy foe; Our wampum league thy brethren did embrace:[33] Upon the Michigan, three moons ago, We launched our pirogues for the bison chase, And with the Hurons planted for a space, With true and faithful hands, the olive-stalk; But snakes are in the bosoms of their race, And though they held with us a friendly talk, The hollow peace-tree fell beneath their tomahawk. XVI. “It was encamping on the lake’s far port, A cry of Areouski[35] broke our sleep, Where stormed an ambushed foe thy nation’s fort, And rapid, rapid whoops came o’er the deep; But long thy country’s war-sign on the steep Appeared through ghastly intervals of light, And deathfully their thunders seemed to sweep, Till utter darkness swallowed up the sight, As if a shower of blood had quenched the fiery fight. XVII. “It slept—it rose again—on high their tower Sprung upwards like a torch to light the skies Then down again it rained an ember shower, And louder lamentations heard we rise: As when the evil Manitou[36] that dries The Ohio woods, consumes them in his ire, In vain the desolated panther flies, And howls amidst his wilderness of fire: Alas! too late, we reached and smote those Hurons dire! XVIII.