For the New-York Weekly Magazine.
LINES
Addressed to a Gentleman who had been a Prisoner to the Indians, and was ransomed by the merchants of Detroit.
When furious, eager, and athirst for blood,
The panting Savage roams the howling wood;
Could grace of form his kindled ire assuage,
Or polish’d manners mitigate his rage:
Or moral worth his rugged spirit move
To the soft touch of sympathy and love.