CHAPTER III.
Situation of the remnant of Joseph from the fall of the Nephites A. D. 400, to the discovery of America by Columbus—Effect upon the natives at first view of European vessels—Kind reception of the Europeans by the natives—War with the Indians and their defeat—Rapid settlement of the eastern shores—The war renewed, subsequent sufferings of the Colonies—They again drive the red man—Their settlements advance to the Ohio and the lakes—Further struggle of the natives, their final submission.
Rise, heavenly muse, and leave those scenes of joy,
Awhile let other climes, thy pen employ,
Extend thy vision, cross the mighty deep,
And o'er Columbia's scenes in anguish weep.
See Joseph's remnants, long in darkness dwell,
Since by their hands a mighty nation fell.[A]
The light which once illumed their happy land,
Where towns and cities did in order stand,
Had slumbered long beneath their mouldering towers.
Their flowery landscape, and their shady bowers.
Had long been scenes of cruelty, and blood,
The scourge and wrath of an avenging God:
When lo! a scene of wonder, struck their view;
O'er the vast deep, an object strange and new,
Came gliding swiftly onward to the shore,
Part fish, part fowl, or something to adore;
They gazed, with admiration and delight,
As plainer still the object hove in sight:
Nor little dreamed, the Gentiles were at hand,
To smite and drive them, from their blessed land.
With warmest friendship, they their guests sustain,
Until too late, they find their struggles vain:
Whole fleets and armies, lined their lengthened shore;
With din of armour bright, and cannon's roar;
Their cities burned, and drenched with human gore,
They sunk in ruin, and were known no more.
See Gentile cities on a sudden rise,
Their lofty spires point upward to the skies,
Where late the shades, spread o'er the red man's grave,
A sacred bower in memory of the brave.
See boundless forests still around them spread,
From north to south, an immeasurable shade;
Where mighty chieftains oft the signal gave,
And struggled long, their country for to save.
Tribes rose to vengeance while their councils rung,
And liberty still thundered from their tongues;
Onward they rushed with rage and wild despair,
The midnight war-whoop rent the darkened air;
While terror seized their unsuspecting prey,
And blood of infants marked their dreadful way!
Towns wrapped in flames and women captive led,
Where cruel torture filled their souls with dread.
Once more the Gentile stung with keen revenge;
Pursues the red skin o'er the woodland range,
Till darkened swamps become their wild retreat;
And there prepared, the advancing foe they meet.
With desperation they their cause maintain;
Till many a chieftain fell,—their struggle vain,
Till by superior force o'erpowered they yield,
And leave the pale-face master of the field.
From the St. Lawrence's snow invested wilds,
To Florida, where constant verdure smiles,
Their towns and cities sprinkle all the shore;
The midnight war-whoop there is heard no more.
But as their rapid settlements advance,
To the dark wilds, round Erie's vast expanse,
Or o'er the Alleghanies bend their course,
Where broad Ohio's waters have their source;
The natives roused once more in dread array,
Assert their rights, spread terror and dismay;
Till over-powered again, they take to flight,
And with reluctance yield their lawful right.
But tribes remoter still, with dread surprize,
Alarmed at their approach, vindictive rise,
Renew the conflict with redoubled force,
With dreadful slaughter mark their vengeful course,
Till checked by force superior to their own,
Again they fly discouraged and undone,
Reduced in numbers, give the struggle o'er,
Tamely submit, and seek their rights no more.
[Footnote A: The Nephites.]