The deer to his night-bound haunts, unheeding,
Should he pass by this desolate Lake,
But quickens his pace, and faster speeding
His phantom-flight doth take.
And the wild geese southward or northward hying,
If they pass o’er this vale in their flight,
Turn their course, till higher and higher flying,
They are lost to the searching sight.
XVI.
Well the red man knows the dismal story—
Knows where Oneydo lies;
He hath seen his corse all pale and gory
Looking helplessly up to the skies;
And to burning rage forever fated,
He is doomed to endless woe;
For there must he lie till Vengeance is sated,
Ere rest his spirit can know.
The Vigil.[E]
(A Romaunt of the late Rebellion in the U.S.A.)
I.
The Southern sun with his deep flood of light
Was slowly sinking, and the moated tide
Hung heavy o’er the dusky brow of night.
Along the gilded west rose far and wide
A range of hills; a vale on either side
Where rich magnolias grew, stretched far adown;
And in this hollow vale might be descried,
Where long the rose and hyacinth hath blown,
A modest cabin’s roof with woodbine overgrown.