There glided the corn-dance, the council-fire shone,

The bark-builded wigwams of Pennacook stood;

And against the red war-post the hatchet was thrown.

There the old smoked in silence their pipes, and the young

To the pike and the white-perch their baited lines flung;

There the boy shaped his arrows, and there the shy maid

Wove her many-hued baskets and bright wampum braid.

O Stream of the Mountains! if answer of thine

Could rise from thy waters to question of mine,

Methinks through the din of thy thronged banks a moan

Of sorrow would swell for the days which have gone.

Not for thee the dull jar of the loom and the wheel,

The gliding of shuttles, the ringing of steel;

But that old voice of waters, of bird and of breeze,

The dip of the wild-fowl, the rustling

of trees!

The faded coloring of Time's tapestry, Let Fancy, with her dream-dipped brush supply.

Roof of bark and walls of pine, Through whose chinks the sunbeams

shine, Tracing many a golden line On the ample floor within; Where upon that earth-floor stark, Lay the gaudy mats of bark, With the bear's hide, rough and dark. And the red-deer's skin.

Window-tracery, small and slight,
Woven of the willow white,
Lent a dimly checkered light,

And the night-stars glimmered
down,

Where the lodge-fire's heavy smoke,
Slowly through an opening broke,
In the low roof, ribbed with oak,

Sheathed with hemlock brown.

Gloomed behind the changeless shade By the solemn pine-wood made; Through the rugged palisade,

In the open foreground planted, Glimpses came of rowers rowing, Stir of leaves and wild-flowers blow

ing,

Steel-like gleams of water flowing,
In the sunlight slanted.

Here the mighty Bashaba,
Held his long-unquestioned sway,
From the White Hills, far away,
To the great sea's sounding shore
Chief of chiefs, his regal word
All the river Sachems heard,

Tales of him the gray squaw told,
When the winter night-wind cold
Pierced her blanket's thickest fold,

And the fire burned low and small,
Till the very child abed,
Drew its bear-skin over head,
Shrinking from the pale lights shed

On the trembling wall.

All the subtle spirits hiding
Under earth or wave, abiding
In the caverned rock, or riding
Misty clouds or morning breeze;
Every dark intelligence,
Secret soul, and influence
Of all things which outward sense
Feels, or hears, or sees,

These the wizard's skill confessed, At his bidding banned or blessed, Stormful woke or lulled to rest

Wind and cloud, and fire and flood; Burned for him the drifted snow, Bade through ice fresh lilies blow, And the leaves of summer grow Over winter's wood!

Not untrue that tale of old!
Now, as then, the wise and bold
All the powers of Nature hold

Subject to their kingly will;
From the wandering crowds ashore,
Treading life's wild waters o'er,
As upon a marble floor,

Moves the strong man still.

Still, to such, life's elements
With their sterner laws dispense,
And the chain of consequence

Broken in their pathway lies; Time and change their vassals mak

ing,
Flowers from icy pillows waking,
Tresses of the sunrise shaking
Over midnight skies.

Still, to earnest souls, the sun
Rests on towered Gibeon,
And the moon of Ajalon

Lights the battle-grounds of life; To his aid the strong reverses Hidden powers and giant forces, And the high stars, in their courses, Mingle in his strife!

III. THE DAUGHTER.

THE Soot-black brows of men, - the yell

Of women thronging round the bed,

The tinkling charm of ring and shell,

The Powah whispering o'er the dead!

All these the Sachen's home had known,

The tempest-smitten tree receives From one small root the sap which climbs

Its topmost spray and crowning leaves,

So from his child the Sachem drew A life of Love and Hope, and felt His cold and rugged nature through The softness and the warmth of her

young being melt.

A laugh which in the woodland rang Bemocking April's gladdest bird,

A light and graceful form which sprang

To meet him when his step was heard,

Eyes by his lodge-fire flashing dark, Small fingers stringing bead and shell

Or weaving mats of bright-hued bark, With these the household-god had graced his wigwam well.

Child of the forest! - strong and free,

Slight-robed, with loosely flowing hair,

She swam the lake or climbed the tree,

Or struck the flying bird in air. O'er the heaped drifts of winter's

moon

Her snow-shoes tracked the hunter's way;

And dazzling in the summer noon The blade of her light oar threw off its shower of spray!

Unknown to her the rigid rule,

The dull restraint, the chiding
frown,

The weary torture of the school,
The taming of wild nature down.
Her only lore, the legends told
Around the hunter's fire at night;
Stars rose and set, and seasons
rolled,