New-Haven, November 13th, 1837. B. T. W.
[OCEOLA'S CHALLENGE.]
Late accounts from St. Augustine state, that the recent capture of the Indian chiefs has by no means increased the friendly feelings of the red men toward the whites. 'There will yet be hard fighting, and they will be rendered more desperate than ever. Even the captives seem to doubt that they will be sent out of the country.'
Come on! O'er prairie, bluff, and swamp,
By bush, and rock, and tree,
Where'er an Indian's foot may tramp,
Where'er ye march, where'er ye camp,
My warrior band shall be!
Come on! My words are plain and few,
My greeting brief and free
But if ye think it less than due,
With deadly aim, my rifle true
Shall welcome speak for me.
Come on! And if ye miss the track
Left by the red man's tread,
Well shall ye know the pathway back!
We'll strew it, lest a guide ye lack,
With heaps of scalpless dead!
Come on! Our sires your fathers fought
In these green wilds of old,
We ask ye, and we owe ye nought,
And know, these lands, that ne'er were bought,
Can but for blood be sold!