O! thou, who, clothed in magic spell,
Delight'st in lonely wilds to dwell,
Resting in rift, or wrapped in air,
Remote from mortal ken, or care:
Genius of caverns drear and wild,
Hear a suppliant wandering child—
One, who nor a wanton calls,
Or intruder in thy walls:
One, who spills not on the plain,
Blood for sport, or worldly gain,
Like his red barbarian kin,
Deep in murder—foul in sin;
Or, with high, horrific yells,
Rends thy dark and silent cells;
But, a devious traveller nigh,
Weary, hungry, parched, and dry;
One, who seeks thy shelter blest,
Not to riot, but to rest.
Grant me, from thy crystal rill,
Oft my glittering cup to fill;
Let thy dwelling, rude and high,
Make my nightly canopy,
And, by superhuman walls,
Ward the dew that nightly falls.
Guard me from the ills that creep
On the houseless traveller's sleep—
From the ravenous panther's spring,
From the scorpion's poisoned sting,
From the serpent—reptile curst—
And the Indian's midnight thrust.
Grant me this, aerial sprite,
And a balmy rest by night,
Blest by visions of delight!
Let me dream of friendship true,
And that human ills are few;
Let me dream that boyhood's schemes
Are not, what I've found them, dreams;
And his hopes, however gay,
Have not flitted fast away.
Let me dream, I ne'er have felt,
Ease that pleases, joys that melt;
Or that I shall ever find
Honor fair, or fortune kind;
Dream that time shall sweetly fling,
In my path, perpetual spring.
Let me dream my bosom never
Felt the pang from friends to sever;
Or that life is not replete,
Or with loss, pain, wo, deceit.
Let me dream, misfortune's smart
Ne'er hath wrung my bleeding heart;
Nor its potent, galling sway,
Forced me far, O! far away;
Let me dream it—for I know,
When I wake, it is not so![7]
Nov. 23d. My first care this morning was to find Butcher, who had been left, last night, with a sorry prospect. He was not to be found. I followed our back track to the plains, whither he had gone for his night's meal. By the time I returned with him, the forenoon was wellnigh gone. We then travelled to the south-east. This brought us, in due time, again into the valley of the North Fork. We found it less encumbered with vines and thickets, and very much widened in its expansion between bluff and bluff. We forded it, and found, on its eastern margin, extensive open oak plains. On one of the most conspicuous trees were marks and letters, which proved that it had been visited and singled out for settlement by some enterprising pioneer. From the open character of the country, we could not get near to large game; and we now found that our supply of ball and shot was near its close. We passed down the valley about ten miles, and encamped. Since the loss of our corn-meal, we had had nothing in the shape of bread, and our provisions were now reduced to a very small quantity of dried meat. We had expected, for some days, to have reached either Indian or white hunters' camps. Our anxiety on this head now became intense. Prudence required, however, that, small as our stores were, they should be divided with strict reference to the probability of our not meeting with hunters, or getting relief, for two or three days.
Nov. 24th. The stick frames, without bark, of several Indian lodges, were passed to-day, denoting that they had not been recently occupied. Travelling down the opposite side of the vale from that taken by my companion, who had charge of the horse, I came to a point on the bank of the river, where I discovered two grown beavers sporting in the stream. The tail of this animal, which appears clumsy and unwieldy in the dead specimen, gives the animal a graceful appearance in the water, where it makes him appear to have a very elongated body. After diving about for some time, they came to the shore, and sat in front of their wauzh, as it is termed by the Algonquins, or lodge, which in this case was a fissure in the rock. I was perfectly screened by a point of the rock from their view, and sat with my gun cocked, reserving my fire, a few moments, the more perfectly to observe them, when both animals, at the same instant, darted into their holes.
Under the influence of a keen appetite, and a tolerably open forest, we pressed on, this day, about fifteen miles; the horse being, as usual, our chief hindrance.
Nov. 25th. I took the horse's bridle over my arm this morning, and had proceeded through open woods about ten miles, when we descried, from a little summit, a hut in the distance, which had some traits of the labor of white men. This gave animation to our steps, in the hope of finding it occupied. But, as we approached, we could discern no smoke rising up as the sign of occupancy, and were disappointed to find it an abortive effort of some pioneer, and, at the moment, called it Camp No. We afterwards learned that it had been constructed by one Martin, who, as there was not a foot of land in cultivation, had probably aimed to subsist by the chase alone. The location was well chosen. A large canebrake flanked the river, sufficient to give range to horses and cattle. A little tributary stream bounded a fertile piece of upland, east of this. The hut was built of puncheons, supported on one side by a rude ridge-pole, leaving the front of it open, forming a shed which had a roof and floor. But the stream had now dried up. We found a plant of cotton, bolled out, among the adjacent weeds, which proved the soil and climate suitable to its culture. We were now well within the probable limits of Arkansas.
It was determined to encamp at this spot, turn the horse into the adjacent canebrake, where the leaves were green, to deposit our baggage and camp apparatus in one corner of the hut, and, after making light packs, to take our arms, and proceed in search of settlements. This required a little time. To reach a point where civilization had once tried to get a foothold, however, was something; and we consoled ourselves with the reflection that we could not be remote from its skirts.
The next day (26th) I made an excursion west of the river, from our position, about five miles, to determine satisfactorily our situation. I found, on the opposite side of the valley, a little higher up, at the foot of the cliff, another small (white man's) hut, which had also been abandoned. In a small patch of ground, which had once been cleared, there grew a pumpkin vine, which then had three pumpkins. This was a treasure, which I at once secured. I found that one of them had been partially eaten by some wild animal, and determined to give it to my horse, but could not resist the inclination first to cut off a few slices, which I ate raw with the greatest appetite. The taste seemed delicious. I had not before been aware that my appetite had become so keen by fasting; for we had had but little to eat for many days. Between the horse and myself, we finished it, and had quite a sociable time of it. With the other two, which were the largest, I rode back to camp, where, having a small camp-kettle, we boiled and despatched them, without meat or bread, for supper. It does not require much to make one happy; for, in this instance, our little luck put us in the best of humor.
FOOTNOTES:
[6] De Soto.
[7] These lines were published in the Belles-Lettres Repository in 1821, and shortly after, with a commendation, in the New York Statesman.