Seasons now had passed their round When I sought my native ground; But I found no kindred tone, Fire had swept it, friends were gone; Men were ploughing, where, in cheer, Once I chased the noble deer; Piles of brick, and wood, and stone, Rose to heaven—the engine’s groan, The big wheel’s dash, the rattling train, Announced the white man’s iron reign.
I sought thy cot—it was a plain Where reapers reapt the yellow grain; I sought the grove, whose solemn shade Our council fire so oft displayed: It was with angled piles beset, Dome, dwelling, garnished minaret, Or steeple called;—with pensive tread I wound me, where repose the dead, And long affection’s pious hand With evening fires illumed the land; It was a shorn and mangled glade, Where not a staddle cast a shade.
Still _thee_ I sought, the wide west round, But need I say, I never found, Or where thou hadst in solace flown, To what strange people, not thine own. At length I came where I could hear That thou wert living, but not near; But still so balked by wayward fate, My footsteps they were e’er too late; Last, chanced I, with a random aim, For still I heard thy father’s fame, Ethwald’s rapid bark to spy Bound to this magnific sky; Him I followed—but no wail, Word or gesture, told my tale, Trusting some kind chance would ope Fortune, which I scarce could hope; And so led, by heaven’s decree, Ventured in this sylvan sea. Ask me not of other woes, Why I chose not—why I chose? Why I did not—why I did? Time will tell what now is hid; For my joy that thus we meet, Changing bitter scenes to sweet, Is as flowing, fair, and free, As kind heaven could make it be.
Warrior, rest thee. Take the seat Due thy rank and presence meet, By ancient custom, right and power, Deemed sacred in the forest bower. It is our wont, that groom and bride, As heart in heart, so side by side Be-seat them: act and sight Thus simple, seals our forest rite. To-morrow, ere the dawning east The sun illumes, prepare the feast, Where joy and plenty shall preside, To crown the warrior and his bride.
Most of the ensuing pieces, having been written at an early period of life, and at widely distant geographical points, and many of them having been published in newspapers, magazines, or other forms, and not before reclaimed, it is conceived that there is a propriety in retaining the local dates.