This page needs to be proofread.
586
FLORUS B. PLIMPTON.
[1850–60.
LEWIS WETZEL.[1]
I.
Stout-hearted Lewis Wetzel
Rode down the river shore,
The wilderness behind him
And the wilderness before.
Rode down the river shore,
The wilderness behind him
And the wilderness before.
He rode in the cool of morning,
Humming a dear old tune,
Into the heart of the greenwood,
Into the heart of June.
Humming a dear old tune,
Into the heart of the greenwood,
Into the heart of June.
He needs no guide in the forest
More than the hunter bees;
His guides are the cool green mosses
To the northward of the trees.1
More than the hunter bees;
His guides are the cool green mosses
To the northward of the trees.1
Nor fears he the foe whose footstep
Is light as the summer air—
The tomahawk hangs in his shirt-belt,
And the scalpknife glitters there!
Is light as the summer air—
The tomahawk hangs in his shirt-belt,
And the scalpknife glitters there!
The stealthy Wyandots tremble.
And speak his name with fear,
For his aim is sharp and deadly,
And his rifle's ring is clear.
And speak his name with fear,
For his aim is sharp and deadly,
And his rifle's ring is clear.
So, pleasantly rode he onward.
Pausing to hear the stroke
Of the settler's ax in the forest.
Or the crash of a falling oak;
Pausing to hear the stroke
Of the settler's ax in the forest.
Or the crash of a falling oak;
Pausing at times to gather
The wild fruit overhead
(For in this rarest of June days
The service-berries were red);
The wild fruit overhead
(For in this rarest of June days
The service-berries were red);
And as he grasped the full boughs
To bend them down amain.
The dew and the blushing berries
Fell like an April rain.
To bend them down amain.
The dew and the blushing berries
Fell like an April rain.
The partridge drums on the dry oak.
The croaking corby caws,
The blackbird sings in the spice-bush,
And the robin in the haws.
The croaking corby caws,
The blackbird sings in the spice-bush,
And the robin in the haws.
And, as they chatter and twitter,
The wild birds seem to say,
"Do not harm us, good Lewis,
And you shall have luck to-day."
The wild birds seem to say,
"Do not harm us, good Lewis,
And you shall have luck to-day."
So, pleasantly rode he onward.
Till the shadows marked the noon,
Into the leafy greenwood,
Into the heart of June.
Till the shadows marked the noon,
Into the leafy greenwood,
Into the heart of June.
II.
Now speed thee on, good Lewis,
For the sultry sun goes down,
The hill-side shadows lengthen.
And the eastern sky is brown.
For the sultry sun goes down,
The hill-side shadows lengthen.
And the eastern sky is brown.
Now speed thee where the river
Creeps slow in the coverts cool,
And the lilies nod their white bells
By the margin of the pool.
Creeps slow in the coverts cool,
And the lilies nod their white bells
By the margin of the pool.
He crossed the silver Kaska
With its chestnut-covered hills.
And the fetlocks of his roan steed
Were wet in a hundred rills.
With its chestnut-covered hills.
And the fetlocks of his roan steed
Were wet in a hundred rills.
"And there," he cried in transport,
"The alders greenest grow,
Where the wild stag comes for water,
And her young fawn leads the doe."
"The alders greenest grow,
Where the wild stag comes for water,
And her young fawn leads the doe."
Grasping his trusty rifle.
He whistled his dog behind,
Then stretched his finger upward
To know how set the wind.2
He whistled his dog behind,
Then stretched his finger upward
To know how set the wind.2
- ↑ Lewis Wetzel, or Wetsel, as it is indifferently spelled, was a "mighty hunter" in the pioneer days of Western Virginia, of which he was a native. Many extraditionary anecdotes of his extraordinary skill with the rifle are yet preserved, some of which have been published. An imperfect sketch of his life is given in Doctor Doddridge's "Notes on the Settlement and Indian Wars in the Western parts of Virginia and Pennsylvania;" a work now out of print, but, aside from its speculative dissertations, among the most valuable contributions to the history of the West.
