USA > New York > Ulster County > Marlborough > History of the town of Marlborough, Ulster County, New York, from its earliest discovery > Part 5
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VI.
. "Although the homage paid by thee, As nothing to the dead must be ; Yet it may soothe thy spirit some, To visit thus thy father's tomb : And, as a part of thy wild faith, May smooth the rugged path to death ; For, when this pilgrimage is made, Thy last debt to thy sire is paid. Few Christians such examples pro Of piety and filial love : Tho' boasting as serener heart Than thou - rude Heathen, as thou art!"
VII. He heeded not what I was saying,- Adown the track of memory His spirit pensively was straying : And he continued, randomly - " The white-men thought the red-men fools,* And took them o'er the waves ; But great Manitto gave them souls, And they can ne'er be slaves ! List, Pale-face! - he who lies below The summer's heat and winter's snow,
"Alluding to the circumstance of Indians being kidnapped, taken to the West Indies and sold as slaves; but who preferred death, rather than captivity and labor.
61
INDIANS.
Beneath this cold and silent clod, Once in the front of battle trod, Chief of a thousand men! Wise at the council-fire - tho' young, And mild in peace - in battle, strong As cougar in his den ! The youthful maidens loved him well : The wizard prophets burst the spell, To pay him homage due : The young men of his tribe would try To emulate his bravery.
In deeds of daring, too.
Yes : such was Maintonomah, when The Yengese* and the Dutchment Were swarming to this soil. Where first the rising sun we view, Beyond those mountains far and blue, There doth a limpid river flow, Near which they laid the forests low, And did, like beavers, toil.
VIII.
A powerful tribe dwelt in that land; A mighty chieftain held command Of warriors, num'rons as the sand Upon the Salt Lakes' endless strand. He saw his hunting-grounds destroy'd; He felt his native rights annoy'd ; He knew that his young men were slain By those intruders from afar: He knew his squaws were captives ta'en, And he resolved on war!"
IX.
Here Teton paused, and looked around Upon the woods and on the ground : Gazed long and silent at the moon, Which full upon his visage shone. 'Twas then I mark'd, with some surprise, The calm expression of his eyes, Which had so late flashed livid fire. Like angry serpent's, in his ire!
* Englishmen.
i Dutchmen.
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HISTORY OF MARLBOROUGH.
His head was bare, his snowy hair Hung in a scalp-lock* from its crown; And, standing in the moonlight there, His dignified and solemn air In all its native grandeur shone ! His bow was o'er his shoulder thrown, His wampum was around him tied, A blanket hid his swarthy zone, And a long knife hung at his side. Still as the rocks around, he stood, Deep-musing on untold events; When, sudden as the foaming flood Pours o'er its broken battlements ! He turn'd to me, and said - " Pale-face ! You grasp at more than you can hold : You own the land. I have been told. Beyond the Great Salt Lake: But the Great-Spirit of your tribe Made your hearts big, and they imbibe The venom of a snake!
" Hast thou e'er seen the sun arise? Didst trace his course along the skies, And seen him set at even? Know. all the land he travel'd o'er Between the east and western shore, From where Atlantic's thunders roar, To where Pacific's billows pour, Was to the red-men given.
Onr hunting-grounds were fill'd with game, Our lakes with fishes, too,
Until the curs'd strangers came Here, in the Big-canoe. Then were the lofty forests fell'd !
Then were the timid deer compell'd To seek a shelter, where ne'er dwell'd A single deer before ; Where nothing, save the wolf's long howl, The serpent's hiss and cougar's growl, Was heard in days of yore!
# The Indian warrior shaves his head, except the crown, from which depends the scalp-lock.
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INDIANS.
XI.
" Manitto made the world. 'tis said ; Gave his red children corn for bread,
Told them to hunt the woods for deer. The lakes for fish - and placed them here. Why should I tell of what befell My father and his men ? Why on the subject longer dwell, Or speak his name again?
For why? - because I deem it right
To throw a sunset-gleam of light Upon our history : I am the last of all my race: There lives no being who can trace A kindred drop in me! And hence the story of my grief, Of Maintonomah - mighty chief. Depends alone on me : And for my spirit's own relief, Pale-face! I tell it thee."
PART SECOND. T.
'Twas summer eve: the paly moon Upon the placid river shone. And silence reign'd, save where the rill Was murmuring adown the hill, Or where the wakeful whip-poor-will Pour'd its lond note, so wildly shrill. No boys were soon upon the lawn. Nor warriors smoking on the green ; All to their wigwams had withdrawn, And stillness brooded o'er the scene. I laid me down, but could not sleep ; I felt a strange, foreboding dread : My father lay in slumber deep - I had no mother - she was dead. How solemn was that midnight hour, When restless fancy's magie power Was busy in my mind ! I started at each trifling sound, I gazed along the moon-lit ground, And listen'd to the wind. As thus I lay. I something heard. At which my life-blood quicker stirr'd.
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HISTORY OF MARLBOROUGH.
II.
Was it the sighing of the breeze Among the tall, green, forest trees ? Was it the panther's plaintive cry, Reverberating awfully ?
Was it the gaunt wolf's mournful howl? Or idle screeching of the owl? Was it the barking of the fox, Far from his cavern'd den of rocks? No :- it was not. A human voice, Alone, alarmed me with its noise!
III.
Upon a little point of land, Projecting from the narrow strand. Three human forms I now espied. And all their movements closely eyed. One stood apart - the other two Drew on the shore a light canoe.
That done, they cross'd yon purling rill, Walked slowly up the steepy hill. And sought our camp - where all was still.
IT.
I press'd my father's hand : he rose - " Does Teton scent approaching foes? " " My father's ears are very good. Can they hear nothing in the wood?" " Hugh!" he exclaim'd, and gave a sign, And many a warrior in his line Rose, at the well-known sound: They gathered near our wigwam low, Each with his tomahawk and bow, And circled him around.
V.
The strangers halted on the plain. Threw up their hands - approach'd again, With forms erect, and slow : My father stepp'd before his men, Return'd the sign of peace - and then Each party bended low. -
65
INDIANS.
The one who seem'd to be their chief Came forward, and in language brief, Explained their visit thus - " We come as friends, with naked hands, Into our happy neighbor's lands ; Expect no harm from us: We wish to taste your bread and meat, To talk around your council-seat, And hear what may be good : For this we left our squaws alone, Pursued our. course thro' ways unknown, O'er mountains wild and rude." " Then are you welcome - and may eat With us our succotash and meat, As brothers, and as friends : The good Manitto to us gave Enough, and it is all we crave, For ill too much attends."
VI.
The crowd dispersed ; the council-fire Was lighted, and its flaming spire Shot upward to the sky : How beautiful !- its ruddy glare Waved purple on the midnight air, And soar'd triumphantly ! Oh! nothing could excel the sight : I gazed upon it with delight, It swell'd my bosom high : My every fear had vanish'd then ; I join'd a lounging group of men, And talk'd exultingly.
VII.
My father held much talk the while, At distance from the blazing pile, Beneath the forest shade, With the strange chief - who seem'd to be Entreating him most earnestly, From gestures that he made. 3
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HISTORY OF MARLBOROUGH.
At length they ended the debate, Came forward, where the warriors sate Upon the green-clad ground : I mark'd their forms, their bearing, too, And to a just, impartial view, I thought that very, very few Such beings could be found ! Magnolias grow both smooth and straight, And angry cougars, have bright eyes ; Magnolias grow to a great height, And wave their branches in the skies, But scarce less tall, those chieftains seem'd Than those fair sachems * of the wood ; And not less bright their dark eyes gleam'd Than cougar's in a wrathful mood !
VIII.
My father motioned with his hand :-
Each gallant warrior of his band
Rose, at the dumb show of command, And follow'd to the fire. A pile of bushes form'd his seat, Distilling odors mild and sweet, Which mingled with the air: The stranger chief sat by his side, And much of dignity and pride Shone in his haughty stare ! The men were in a circle drawn, And seated on the open lawn ; Their pipes were lighted, and the smoke Into fantastic edies broke. Which form'd an artificial cloud,
And wrapp'd them in a mazy shroud.
IX.
The fumes of smoke had pass'd away, The moon moved down the western sky; Anon, her bright, unclouded ray Broke thro' the tree-tops silently.
* The magnolia may well be ealled the " Sachem" of the wood; its trunk is not unfrequently a hundred feet high. and perfectly straight.
67
INDIANS.
Hark ! did I hear my father speak In a forbidding tone? Or does it thro' the greenwood break, The west wind's hollow moan ? Or, hark again! ay, now I hear Great Maintonomah's voice ! 'Tis very loud - it strikes mine ear Like Niagara's noise !
" Teton." it says, " tell not a word Of what I spoke that fatal night; The faithless Pale-face will record Each sentence uttered, with delight. Enough it is for him to learn What mighty Metamora said, When bright our council-fire did burn, And waved in air its lurid head."
X.
Thus spake the voice; didst thou not hear? Nay, thou could'st not! 'twas for my ear, And for my ear alone: Though it had made the mountains quake, The earth unto its centre shake, Still it were all my own ; Therefore, be silent, question not Whatever I may say : His warning cannot be forgot, And him I must obey.
XI.
What Maintonomah told his men Will never more be heard again ! And soon will dark oblivion Close o'er the relies of his son ! But what the Wampanoag said Must be rehearsed ere I am dead; But only to elucidate The incidents I shall relate. King Philip rose, (the white men gave Such name to Metamora brave), Looked o'er the mute, attentive crowd, And spoke in accents deeply loud -
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HISTORY OF MARLBOROUGH.
" Brothers ye are both brave and just ; To some Manitto gave a trust : The land between two rivers wide, He gave the children of his pride; Told them to guard, with jealous care, From Hudson to the Delaware. Tradition tells how long they've held The soil on which their fathers dwelled : They've kept their trust - they've kept their faith - They hate their foes, and fear not death ! Do any know this tribe so true? My brothers - Mohawks! it is you ! But the Great Spirit's face is hid Behind a cloud ! did it not bid His children guard their hunting-grounds ? And have they never heard strange sounds ? Have they never seen strange footprints near ? Have they not missed the moose and dear? Have they not seen the big-canoe,* Fire-water,t and Pale-faces, too?
Yes - they have seen all these, and more! They're heard the white-men's thunder roar! They've seen their hunting-grounds laid low, And that by a deceitful foe! And were they made to hoe the corn?
No! their free souls such labor scorn! Listen, brothers! hear me through : Ye are men and warriors, too! Those strangers, white as winter's snow. Claim all the land, where'er they go! They say their Christian God hath given Unto them all things under heaven! They call the Indians poor, and kill Their game, to make them poorer still! And shall we crouch, like dogs, before The Pale-face tribe? our sires of yore Would frown upon us evermore ! They've slain my friends - my brothers' friends - For which they cannot make amends : Their restless ghosts for vengeance sigh. And long to hear our battle-cry!
* Ship. ¡Spirituous liquors.
69
INDIANS.
They went alone - with naked hands Into the happy Spirit-lands ; And shall this be? no - it must not - Their wrongs must never be forgot ; A curse would rest upon our head. And we should fear to meet the dead ! Are not my brothers of my mind? Do they not, sometimes, feel inclined To strike the foe? now is the time! Exterminate them from our clime! Slay every Pale-face on our soil. And feast forever on the spoil ! They've driven me from hill to fen, From valley to the mountain glen : . Yet still I have a willing band. Who only wait for my command To tomahawk our common foe, And wrap their wigwams in a glow ! Believe me. brothers, they will come. Ere long, and claim your happy home ; If not arrested in their course, Or banished from our land, per force ! Hence, brothers, I believe it right For all in common to unite. And swear by every restless ghost That wanders unavenged and lost By every hope and feeling high Engendered by nativity - To free the land our fathers gave, Or make that land a common grave !"
XII. -
When he had ceased. a startling vell Re-echo'd through the wood and dell ; " Revenge and death!" each warrior cried, And grasped the hatchet by his side ; For Philip's speech had woke their ire, As fuel added to a fire ; They jump'd, and whoop'd, and beat the air, Like wounded bisons in despair. And shouted up and down the plain, "Till Maintonomah spoke again. He spoke - and every man was still As morning's mist upon a hill ;
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HISTORY OF MARLBOROUGH.
He spoke - but I may not unfold A single word of what he told ! You know my reason - ask not why The moon appears in yonder sky.
... ..
XIII.
They held a consultation brief. And seem'd united in belief. Then Maintonomah step'd unto A pine .* that in the clearing grew, And struck his tomahawk therein ; The hills returned the sullen din. This was a hostile signal, given Before the face of man and heaven, To prove the truce no longer good,
Which had been stain'd with Indian blood. The men now follow'd to the tree, And wounded it successively : Tore off the bark with mimic rage. And sorely main'd that tree of age! At length they ceased, and then returned Near where the dying beacon burn'd, Drew in a line around their chief. Who wish'd from further works relief, Until the morning sun should rise And re-illume the azure skies.
PART THIRD. I.
The birds begin to carol loud. And Night withdraws her sable shroud : The golden sun appears in view, Beyond the hills of sombre hue : The Hudson glitters to the sheen, The woods are dress'd in burnish'd green. The dew-drops sparkle on the lawn, Ad add their lustre to the morn - All nature, clad in vesture gay. Seems welcoming the new-born day.
* After resolving war, the Indian usually select some convenient tree as a symbol of their enemy; against which they direct their mimie vengeance.
71
INDIANS.
II.
What sounds are those, now swelling high, Now low'ring into melody ?
Ah, me !- they speak a mournful tone, Like requiem for spirits gone :
They bid the native warrior rise, And seek a warrior's destinies :
They are the conch-notes, sounding far The larum of approaching war !
III.
When the first signal-blast was heard, Each inmate at his door appear'd ; And when the last sound died away, Like some mysterious roundelay, The busy squaws might then be seen,
The sportive boys upon the green, The warriors stalking here and there, Apparently devoid of care.
Until, by mutal assent,
They circled Maintonomah's tent.
IT.
With Metamora and his men. My father was conversing then :-
" And has my brother seen," asked he,
" The great white chief" beyond the sea ?" " We feel the wind, but cannot see The cause of its velocity."
" "Tis well ; and does my brother know The strength and number of his foe?"
" The leaves are num'rous on the trees, But they are scattered by the breeze ; The Yengese number like the sand, Still we may drive them from our land, If we but work unitedly, From civil broils and factions free."
" Enough :- the beaver is full wise, The wild-cat utters treach'rous cries, The cunning fox is often ta'en, The bear and bison may be slain. The white-inen strike the red-men well, Still they are no invincible!"
* King of England.
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HISTORY OF MARLBOROUGH.
He still was speaking, when a shout Proclaim'd some incident without : Those who had placed themselves before The humble wigwams's open door, Now parted, to make way for one Whose earthly race was nearly run. All riveted an eager gaze Upon the sage of many days ; And each appear'd, at least to me. To watch his movements anxiously ; Because he was, till then, unknown, Of latter years to walk alone; Especially before the sun
Had drunk the dew and dried the lawn. He sat by Maintonomah's side, And Matamora keenly eyed. That haughty chieftain well could brook Our aged prophet's eagle look : He did not quail beneath his eye, Though keen and long the serunity :
And not a muscle could yon trace
Distorted in his manly face ; But, like a noble Sagamore, The close examination bore.
VI.
I never shall forget the hour, ' Till to the land of shadows borne, When Wessatona's magic power Foretold my father's doom that morn ; For he was gifted to behold, Thro' thy dark shades. Futurity ! Life's awful waste; and to unfold The hidden things of destiny. "And go," he said, " tho' I have dream'd That thou shalt fall in battle brave; A Sachem's word should be redeem'd, Tho' it were purchased by his grave ! Go, then, pride of thy people! where The boon of glory may be found; Be honor still thy leading star; And let thy warwhoop loudest sound.
73
INDIANS.
I've marked our brother - fear him not -- No treason harbours in his breast : First of his nation - he has fought The bravest and the best ! Farewell. my son ! - Manitto calls ; Thy father beckons thee to come: Haste to the field where manhood falls, And seek a long - a happy home."
VII.
He ceased ; an awful pause ensued The dread disclosure made : Each seem'd unwilling to intrude, And solemn silence sway'd. The prophet left our wigwam drear, And sought his own again : Methought I saw the briny tear Bedew his visage then.
The men withdrew to eat their meat, And bid their squaws adieu : My sire resum'd his lowly seat, And took refreshments too. He hade the strangers share his cheer ; Consisting of a haunch of deer, A gourd of water. and some fish Placed in an oval wooden dish, A bown of succotash and bread ; On such repast stern warriors fed.
VIII.
Behold a warlike band, array'd In Indian pomp - in Indian show ! See o'er their heads a flag display'd, Type of defiance to the foe! Their gaudy plumes of feathers gay Wave in the southern, summer gale : Their polished arms reflect the day, Like sparkling diamonds, bright and pale.
Their valiant chef - my noble sire - By Areonski * doom'd to die, Feels in his breast the martial fire. And glories in his destiny !
* Indian God of War.
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HISTORY OF MARLBOROUGH.
Now all are ranged upon the plain, Between the village and the sun; O), hearken to the rising strain! Their valiant chief - my noble sire -
SONG. Manitto! lend thine ear To thy children weak ; Manitto! deign to hear What they speak.
Thon art strong - thou art just - Thou art swift -we are slow; In thee we place our trust, Help us strike the foe!
Manitto! hear our eries. We crave thy mighty aid; Manitto! thou art wi-e. And knowest what is said.
Three several times I plainly heard Each simple line, and simple word ; Deep, slow. and soft their accents fell,
And died in distance thro' the dell. However harsh to a white ear Their artless cadence might appear; Howe'er uncouth their attitude. Unpolished verse, and gestures rude ; Yet. to an Indian, like me, 'Twas like some passing melody. And every action, word and tone Blent in harmonious unison !
Ere yet the destin'd march began, The war-pipe pass'd from man to man ; Its stem was of a crimson hue. Its bowl was of the brightest blue. Wrought from stone* of hardest mould, By Christian hunters bought and sold. That done, they pass'd with noiseless tread Unto the Hudson's lowly bed, Where fifty light canoes were seen, All dancing on the waters sheen. The southern breeze swept o'er the flood, And sigh'd along the leafy wood ; Flint.
75
INDIANS.
And fresher still the breezlet blew, And higher still the billows grew, Until they laved the sandy shore, With dashing foam and hollow roar. Now o'er the troubled deep they glide. Like bounding bisons, side by side ; See! - they have gained the eastern strand, And draw their canoes to the land : Another look - and naught is seen, Save barren rocks and cedars green.
Twelve suns had roll'd from east to west, As many moons had sunk to rest ; Twelve times the stars appeared in view, Diffusing feeble lustre too,- Since Maintonomah and his band Sought Metamora's troubled land. There is a feeling of the heart, Pure as the balmy breath of morning, When Night's unfathom'd shades depart, And oriental beams are dawning : It is that love which parents bear For the dear objects of their care ; It is that love which children learn To feel for parents in return. And such the passion that I felt. When in the lonely tent I knelt, And pray'd Manitto to restore My father to his tribe once more. But what avail our earnest cries, When He, who rules in yonder skies, Hath need of those we would detain, And calls them to himself again ?
XII.
The morning dawn'd without a cloud ; The larks ascended in the air ; The men assembled in a crowd, But then, alas! few men were there.
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HISTORY OF MARLBOROUGH.
The boys resum'd their daily plays, The mimic of the chase and fight, And aeted them in many ways, With Youth and Childhood's gay delight. Oh, Youth ! oh. Childhood ! - what are ye, That smile so sweetly for a time? Blest beacons on Life's stormy sea, Between its dawning and its prime! Bright as the golden sun, ye seem ; Fair as the moon, when riding high ; But transient as the dazzling gleam
That shoots athwart a troubled sky !
XIII.
E'en now. methinks, I hear the vell. Which thundered thro' this very dell, Full sixty years ago :- Again it rose, in awful strain.
The notes of pleasure and of pain, And died in echo's low.
Lo! near the river's eastern side,
Afloat upon the limpid tide, Our absent friends appear !
How swiftly o'er the waves they come!
They seek a peaceful, happy home, Remote from war's career. Joy! joy !- but transient joy is found Within this world of cares : As thorns 'mid fairest flowers abound. Life is beset with snares! We joy'd to see them near the land, But soon that joy was turn'd to pain.
Where was the leader of the band ? He ne'er shall see his tribe again ! Wrapt in the arms of death, he lies, And cold as Alleghania's snow : Alas! no more his eagle eyes Shall light his warriors to the foe!
XIV.
Oh! listen to those piercing tones - They fill my heart with dread : They are the weeping widows' moans, Bewailing husbands dead !
77
INDIANS.
And mingled with their grief, arise The hapless orphans' plaintive cries : These grieve for those who never more Shall smile upon them as before ; And those for those endeared by ties Of hynenean paradise.
AT.
Long ere the mourners ceased to weep, Four warriors climb'd the rocky steep ; They bore a litter, form'd of wood, Of hasty workmanship and rude; "Twas lined with barks and blankets too, Thus rendered easy to the view. They gain'd the plain, and pass'd along, With solemn tread, amid the throng. All eyes were fixed on them alone, To none their burden was unknown, For, on the litter which they bore, Lay Maintonomah - chief no more !
XVI.
Near vonder grove of stately trees, Now waving in the evening breeze, Upon a seat they placed my sire, And dress'd him in a gay attire : His tomahawk, bright as the sun! His wampum, with its trinkets on; His blanket, decked with beads and gold, Which dangled from each graceful fold ; His knife was pendant from his waist, With eagle plumes his head was graced, His bow was o'er his shoulder slung, And arrows in his quiver hung.
XVII.
The minor chieftains gathered round. The young men and the squaws appeared : All stood in silence deep, profound, And gazed on him they loved, revered. Yes -- all were there, save those who fell, As fell their leader, in the fight. But they had gone where warriors dwell With purer, unalloy'd delight.
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HISTORY OF MARLBOROUGH.
Immediately before him stood Old Wessatona, wise and good. His arms were folded on his breast, His head was sunk upon his chest, His eyes were closed, and from them stole The tender anguish of his soul. Long had the awful quiet reign'd,
Where all was felt and nothing feign'd;
And long had every one bestow'd The mournful tribute, justly owed; Before the sage appeared to note His being on the fatal spot. At first his legs began to move As if imploring heaven's love : Fitful and indistinet their sound, Scarce heard by those who wept around. A hundred summers he had seen. Attired in robes of vernal green : A hundred winters he had known Howl on the train of winters gone ; And many tokens had they cast Upon him, as they hurried past : The flowing scalp-lock on his head Rivall'd the snow-wreath which they shed ; And bended form, and furrowed face, And trembling limb, and tottering pace, Were of his lengthened years. the trace. Yet, not the weight of a century Could then repress his energy : He oped his eyes, he raised his head. And thus address'd the silent dead :
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