A large rock, estimated to weigh eight or ten tons, is so nicely poised upon another rook, upon a high point about fifty rods west of the lake, that a gentle pressure of the hand will cause it to rock perceptibly.
Directly opposite the picnic grounds are precipitous rocks, below which the waters are extremely deep.—The Author.
When the infant world in its swaddling band
Of mist and cloud and storm,
Assumed its forms of sea and land,
And the lakes and streams were born,
In this western world, on the eastern shore,
Four leagues from the inland sea,
Came a liquid crown set with jewels four,
But in union only three;
For the northern gem was a solitaire
And barred from the lesser three,
By a marble wall wrought strong and fair
By the hand of Divinity.
A silver thread from the Trinity
Ran southward through the wood,
Till it lost its flow in the land-locked sea,
And was merged in old Neptune's flood;
But the northern gem in a mystic race
Sent a message toward the west,
And linked itself in the kind embrace
Of the Hudson grandly dressed.
Ten thousand moons had waxed and waned
And flung on the mirror sheet
A train of beauty, with no discord stained
Since creation stood complete.
Here antlered deer had slaked their thirst
And fought their imaged form;
Here rolling tones of thunder burst,
As a harbinger of storm;
Here song of bird and sigh of breeze
Had ne'er met human ear;
The beast on land, the fowl on trees
Dwelt here in peace and knew no fear.
Brave Kitchewonks had traced their way
Along the stream that westward ran,
While Rippowams pursued their prey
Until this lake-land was their van.
'Twas here Mohegan met again
The blood that in Mohegan flowed,
But each regarded not the vein,
Though kinsmen, foes they firmly stood.
This lake-land, rich in fish and game,
Was ground for strife and war and blood;
From west and south the warriors came
In battle paint and surly mood.
The Kitchewonks near northern lake
Upon the Rippowams looked down,
And hoped their power and pride to break
E'er harvest-moon had fully grown.
Almeta on the western stream
Now mourned her absent Ponomo,
For harvest-moon had sent its gleam
Across the Hudson's tidal flow,
And at its full he was to come,
And her to lake-land safely guide,
Where they should make their future home,
And she should there become his bride.
But he had with Rippowams' band,
Marched forth to meet her kinsmen dear,
And face to face they sternly stand
Prepared for battle-storm severe.
Her heart bid her to dare the shock
And seek him near the hostile camp;
Her mind her heart would basely mock,
And boding fears her ardor damp;
The bondage of her heart so great
Her coward mind could never free;
She heeds no danger, dares all fate,
And this her brief soliloquy:
"I know that tribal laws demand
My life if I should thither flee,
I must obey that great command—
God's higher law—fidelity.
No other lips my lips have pressed,
No other arms encircled me,
Since he my maiden form caressed
And each breathed vows of constancy.
For me at each returning moon
He journeyed through the forest wild,
Braved dangers that my heart hath won,
And now I must not be defiled
By any doubt or any fear
That death or suffering may bring.
I'd count such sacrifice not dear
If I must be an offering.
"What though my blood may stain the soil,
Devotion mark me for a slave
Through weary years to strive and toil,
Or fate should sink me 'neath the wave!
'Twere better far that such should be
Than I should violate my heart
And all that's sacred unto me
By acting a base traitor's part.
I must away, I must away
To meet him by the silvery lake!
'Tis crime for me to longer stay
I will not, cannot now forsake."