He told the red man's story; far and wide
He searched the unwritten records of his race;
He sat a listener at the sachem's side,
He tracked the hunter through his wildwood chase.
* * * * * * *
Soon o'er the horizon rose the cloud of strife,
Two proud, strong nations battling for the prize;
Which swarming host should mould a nation's life,
Which royal banner flout the western skies.
Long raged the conflict; on the crimson sod
Native and alien joined their hosts in vain;
The lilies withered where the lion trod,
Till peace lay panting on the ravaged plain."
In the extracts given from this fine poem, with its stately, majestic rhythm, it is plain to see that, even at the age of eighty-four, our autocrat poet had lost none of the vigor and fire of youth.
In the closing verses he speaks most tenderly of Parkman's patient, untiring energy,
"While through long years his burdening cross he bore,"
and concludes with this fine eulogy:
"A brave, bright memory! his the stainless shield
No shame defaces and no envy mars!
When our far future's record is unsealed
His name will shine among its morning stars."