V. Again the Indian comes—some years have rolled,— Down the wild Ottawa, and stands upon His boyhood haunt, and with an eye still bold Looks round, and sighs for glories that are gone; For all is changed, except the fall that told, And tells its Maker still, and Bird-rock lone; Sadly he leans against an evening sky, Transfigured in its ebb of rosy dye.
VI. He sees a city there:—the blazing forge, The mason’s hammer on the shaping stone, Great wheels along the stream revolving large, And swift machinery’s whirr and clank, and groan, And the fair bridge that spans the yawning gorge, Which drinks the spray of Chaudière, leaping prone,— And spires of silvery hue, and belfry’s toll, All strike, like whetted knives, the red man’s soul.
VII. Wide the area of the naked space Where broods the city like a mighty bird, And the grave Sachem from his rock can trace Her flock of villages, where lately stirred The bear and wolf, tenacious of their place, And where the wild cat with her kittens purred;— Now while the shades of eve invest the land, What myriad lights flash out on every hand!
VIII. The dead day’s crimson, interwove with brown, Has wrapped the watcher upon Oiseau Rock, And o’er him hangs bright Hesper, like a crown, As if the hand of Destiny would mock His soul’s eclipse and sorrow-sculptured frown;— Thick as wild pigeons, dusky memories flock O’er the wide wind-fall of his fated race, And thus he murmurs to his native place:
IX. “Here dwelt within the compass of my gaze, All whom I ever loved, and none remain To cheer the languor of my wintry days, Or tread with me across the misty plain; A solitary tree, the bleak wind strays Among my boughs, which moaningly complain; Familiar voices whisper round and say, Seek not to find our graves! Away! Away!
X. The sire who taught my hands to hold the bow, The mother who was proud of my renown, On them no more the surly tempests blow, How little do they heed or smile or frown, The summer’s blossoms or the winter’s snow! With them, at last, I thought to lay me down, Where birds should sing, and wild deer safely play, And endless woods fence out the glare of day.
XI. Friend of my youth, my “Wa-Wa[5] Height,” adieu! No more shall I revisit thee, no more Gaze from thy summit on the upper blue, And listen to the rapid’s pleasing roar;— I go,—my elder brother!—to pursue The Elk’s great shadow on a distant shore, Where Nature, still unwounded, wears her charms, And calls me, like a mother, to her arms.”
XII. He ceased and strode away; no tear he shed, A weakness which the Indian holds in scorn, But sorrow’s moonless midnight bowed his head, And once he looked around—Oh! so forlorn! I hated for his sake the reckless tread Of human progress,—on his race no morn, No noon of happiness shall ever beam; They fade as from our waking fades a dream.
[5] Wa-Wa, or i.e. lit.—the Wild Goose.