So the sea-brought strangers, stronger
Than their Indian foes of old,
Conquered, till were heard no longer
War-songs through the forests rolled.
Yet the land's wild stream, begotten
Where its Red Sons fought and died,
With traditions unforgotten
Strives to stem Oblivion's tide;
Tells the mighty, who, like ocean,
Whelm the native stream, how they
First in far dim days' commotion,
Wrestling, fought for empire's sway.
Hear the sad cascade, ere ever
Sinks in rising tides its moan,
True may be the tale, though never
By the victor ocean known.
Now the chant rings softly, finding
Freedom as the sea retires;
Loudly now, through spray-tears blinding
Throb and thunder silver lyres;
Silenced when the strong sea-water
To its great' heart, limitless,
Rising, takes the valley's daughter,
Soothes the song of her distress.
UGONDÉ'S TALE.
For a while the salt brine leaves me
O'er my terraced rocks to fall,
And my broad swift-gliding waters
Olden memories recall.
Ere the tallest pines were seedlings
With my life-stream these were blent;
As a father's words, like arrows
Straight to children's hearts are sent,
So my currents speeding downwards,
Ever passing, sing the same
Story of the days remembered,
When the stranger people came.
Men of mighty limbs and voices,
Bearing shining shields and knives,
Painted gleamed their hair like evening,
When the sun in ocean dives.
Blue their eyes and tall their stature,
Huge as Indian shadows seen
When the sun through mists of morning
Casts them o'er a clear lake's sheen.