Two lovers once sat dreaming
Of scenes o'ergrown by years;
Sweet Daisy's eyes were eloquent
With girlhood's pleading tears;
Her little hand was lying
Confidingly in mine,
While her silvery voice pleaded:
"Dear one, awake the Nine!"
"Yes, darling, I will rhyme for you;
What legend shall I drew!
Shall I now fold you in my arms
And, drifting down life's stream,
'Mid singing birds and nodding flowers,
Pour forth my soul in love—
In accents soft and tender—
As the cooing of a dove"?
Or shall I tell you, dearest one,
Why yonder's rippling stream
First gained the name "Tululah"
In an age that's now a dream?
Well, now, pillow your head upon my breast,
The legend is weird and wild;
I fear me much its harrowing scenes
Will shock, thee, gentle child.
Will you listen, while we're watching
For the far-famed Phantom Boat?
Perhaps the tale will lead us
To catch the first faint note
Of Tululah's wondrous music
As she floats down this stream,
For, I assure you, darling,This legend is no dream.
Where now we sit, in days gone by,
The stealthy panther crept,
And bears and wolves in horrid hordes
Their tireless vigils kept;
Turkey, deer and beaver
Were scattered far and wide,
And here the lordly savage stalked
In all his pristine pride;
The Creeks then ruled this forest,
From Suwanee to the sea;—
A haughty, bold and cruel race,
Cunning, treacherous, wild and free!
To hunt and fish, and boast and fight
Were the duties of a brave,
While woman—alas! sweet woman
Was but a cowering slave!
No grant had she to breathe her wrongs
Before the "Council Fire,"
Nor dared she utter a single word
To gain her heart's desire,
Until her savage master
First gave her leave to speak;
Nor dared she then to brave his will
Lest he his vengeance wreak!
Yet ever and anon there rose
A woman, whose proud soul
Ignored those self-created gods
And spurned their base control.
Such was the brave Tululah,
Whose spirit haunts this stream;
In a phantom barge it glides along,
Like a wraith in a troubled dream.
'Tis said she haunts this river,
Alone on a misty night,
And that each one who sees her
Is 'palled with strange affright!
And why she haunts this river
Is the burden of my tale,
And none who have a tender heart
But will her fate bewail.