Page:The Poets and Poetry of the West.djvu/563

1850-60.] ORPHEUS EVERTS. 547 The groves lament the winter rain. Bereft of all their Summer leaves — Their bare arras dripping like the eaves, Are stiffened, it would seem, with pain ! Nor man nor beast loves winter rain. It brings no joy — suggesteth none ! It comes with sigh, and wail, and moan — It chills the heart, and chills the brain. EXTRACTS FROM " ONAWEQUAH." MOONLIGHT ON THE PRAIRIE. The Bison slept upon the plain. The dew was dripping from his mane ; His lazy jaws were mumbling o'er The grass they'd cropped the day before. The wild Deer sought the shaded brink Of moonlit stream, to rest, and drink ; The sleepless Wolf upon his trail — With peering front snuffed the fresh gale. The Beaver looked out of his cabin door, And the Otter played with shells on the shore. The wild Goose hooded her head in sleep. Resting her bosom on the deep ; Her hood was the nether down of her wing — And she rocked to sleep on the water's swing. In an old oak tree, on a leafless limb, Rested an Owl, in moonlight dim ; His wild too-hoo, through the forest ring- ing. Startled the child on a bent bough swing- ing; With the teetering winds for a "lullaby," Its cradle a tree, its blanket, the sky ! And high above, on a rocky peak, Where night-winds through the cedars creak, An Eagle was perched, from danger free. Scorning the height of forest tree, Which, far beneath his strong wing's play» Was shrouded in mist of vapors gray. The Grouse-Cock watched by the silent hen ; The Serpent coiled in the slimy fen ; The innocent Hare with tuft of white, Sported his limbs in soft moonlight. Which round and round o'er valley and hill, Was dancing in fairy-like loveliness still. THE CHIEFTAIN'S DAUGHTER. No palor, on her brown cheek spreading. Betrays the danger she is treading ; Her feet as light as nimble deer's, Are winged with love's elastic fears ; Her moccasins adorned with quills. Tread soft, as morning o'er the hills ; Her glossy braids of raven hair, Are floating round her shoulders bare, Her swelling bosom, tinged with hue Of sunny brown, has felt the dew ; And gaudy scarf of crimson dye. Obscured its beauty from the eye, About her waist, a beaded belt Suspends a skirt of rudest felt ; Her rounded limbs, of tapering mould. Disdain protection from the cold ; Her eye — the Eagle's on yon peak Hath not the power which hers can speak ! The mildest star in heaven's blue zone. Hath not the softness of its tone, When love hath kindled in its orb A light the heart may all absorb I The lightning's gleam in darkest night, Is not more scathing in its light, When rage hath fanned it into flame, And 'roused the blood no power can tame !