'In Yanky land there stands a town 'Where learning may be purchas'd low-- 'Exchange his blanket for a gown, 'And let the lad to college go.' From long debate the council rose, And viewing Shalum's tricks with joy, To _Harvard hall_[1], o'er wastes of snows, They sent the copper-colour'd boy. [Footnote 1: Harvard college, at Cambridge, near Boston.] One generous chief a bow supply'd, This gave a shaft, and that a skin; The feathers, in vermilion dy'd, Himself did from a turkey win: Thus dress'd so gay, he took his way O'er barren hills, alone, alone! His guide a star, he wander'd far, His pillow every night a stone. At last he came, with leg so lame, Where learned men talk heathen Greek, And hebrew lore is gabbled o'er, To please the muses, twice a week. A while he writ, a while he read, A while he learn'd the grammar rules.-- An indian savage, so well bred, Great credit promis'd to their schools. Some thought, he would in law excel, Some said, in physic he would shine; And one, that knew him passing well, Beheld in him a sound divine. But those of more discerning eye, E'en then could _other_ prospects show, And saw him lay his Virgil by, To wander with his dearer _bow_. The tedious hours of study spent, The heavy-moulded lecture done, He to the woods a hunting went, But sigh'd to see the setting sun. No mystic wonders fir'd his mind; He sought to gain no learn'd degree, But only sense enough to find The _squirrel in the hollow tree_. The shady bank, the purling stream, The woody wild his heart possess'd; The dewy lawn his morning dream _In fancy's gayest colours dress'd._ 'And why,' he cried, 'did I forsake My native wood for gloomy walls? The silver stream, the limpid lake, For musty books and college halls? 'A little could my wants supply-- Can wealth and honour give me more? Or, will the sylvan god deny The humble treat he gave before? 'Let seraphs reach the bright abode, And Heav'n's sublimest mansions see:-- I only bow to Nature's God-- _The land of shades_, will do for _me_. 'These dreadful secrets of the sky 'Alarm my soul with chilling fear:-- 'Do planets in their orbits fly? 'And is the Earth, indeed, a sphere? 'Let planets still their aim pursue, 'And comets round creation run-- 'In Him my faithful friend I view, 'The image of my God--the Sun. 'Where Nature's ancient forests grow, 'And mingled laurel never fades, 'My heart is fix'd; and I must go 'To die among my native shades.' He spoke,--and to the western springs (His gown discharged, his money spent) His blanket tied with yellow strings, The shepherd of the forest went. Returning to the rural reign, The Indians welcom'd him with joy; The council took him home again, And bless'd the copper-coloured boy. Our author, brings his hero again upon the stage, under the title of THE SPLENETIC INDIAN.