Nashville daily patriot. [volume] (Nashville, Tenn.) 1855-1857, 1856-12-03
For the Nashvill. Patriot.
The Origin of the Robin.
BT L. VIRGINIA FRExcH.

Haiti traced such tales as NIL the painters VISION
And warm the poets dream.
The tongues that couned them Ger in by-gone hours
In Silence long have slept;
And long the grave closed Ger the tender bOsoms,
or those who heard,-and wept.
Their names live not in histOry's solemn pages;
By Fame's inspiring breath,
And trumpet-tongue sent down to future ages,
Redeemed for aye from death.
Their legends rise-old rocks in Times great ocean
Haf-eovered by the waves,
To tell strange ia es Of buried generations,
In their forgotten graves.
And still from out those din uncertain records
Wild mystic voices rise,
And bear cen in their rude hieroglyphcs
lesson to the wise.
twas long ago when red men roamed the Forest
Lords Of this broad domain,
When in the valley the lonely wigwam,
The village the plain.
There lived a cheftain's son-young Iadlna,
His fathers only child;
Just Of the age to seek what guardian spirit
Upon his birth had smiled.
The old man was ambitious for his darling
Who loved him passing well;
And trusted that in deeds Of noble daring,
One day he would excel.
So, for his longer fast was ordered,
I And kind prayers were said,
Than had been used for any noted warrior
Whose fame he coveted.
little lodge was built beside the river,
Fresh lined with mating clean
And twelve lo1g days and nights the youthful chieia
Must keep his fast therein.
The boy laid down upon the fragrant rushes
And covered up his face,
Calm waiting till the Manitou should visit
The consecrated place.
Each morning to the lodge-door the father,
With words of hope, and cheer,
Exhorting him to dream alone Of glory,
And still to perseyere.
To all those glowing words of joyful promise
The boy made reply,
Without sigh Of discomfort, or murmur,
He lay with half-closed eye;
Till at the dawning of the ninth day, meekly
He murmured forth at last;
"My father, all my dreams do bOde but evil,
May break my fast9
Our cieains thought that long days Of fasting
Were the Great Spirits due,
My strength fails fast my father,-oh! sweet mother
May not come to your"
The father answered rapidly AMI sternly,
"You know not what you ask
Rise now? come forth? and what great need Of glory
VIII wait upon your task?
In three days more your term will be completed;
star withou. compeer
then shall you shine, beloved Of battle,
My brave boy perseverel"
The son obeyed then shrouding up his features,
He strove to shut the light,
Which seemed to prompt his spirit to complaining,
Gut from his failing sight.
But on the eleventh morning, when his breathing
Told nature must give way;
He moaned again - de-oh save me father,
Give some drink to-day.
The father heard" My only son, and will you
Bring shame upon my crest?
Bring night upon the old man when his daysprng
Is falling to the West?"
81 will not shame you father" Iadla
Responded proudly,-then
| He lay still as though he ne er would enter
The haunts of life again.
! Another day, another night CT torture
When he so long in vain,
| Had struggled to command his Keeling senses,
| And crush the hunger pain.
Another day whose light must strike like lauces
Deep in his fevered BRAIN
| Another night when spectres crowd the darkness,
Each nerve upon the strain.
| He knew the sun came, and shook OF the daylight
| From out his fiery springs,
! As eagle shakes the white and feecy snow-fakes
From strong upsoarng wings.
| He knew the dawn was brght,-a gush Of laughter
Greeted the rising day,
| His mates were weaving oak and ivy garlands
To crown then in their play.
The wind stole up with orders from the forest
OF pine aud sasafras,
| He heard its wigs with fragrance oyerburdened
Trail DER the dewy grass.
| He knew at noon when crimson trumpet-blossoms
Their name-wreath5 lightly toss
And when the sunlight fails in rich mosaics
And gold drops on the moss.
When stOops the dun deer to the lucid streamlet
And heron sails on high
While from their eyries soar the mountain eagles,
And melt into the sky.
From the bOughs above him chartered bihe the SPUR
And from the branching oak
| The wild sweet MARBLE Of the merry thresher,
The gen's soft ocho woke.
He knew when day sank down into the shadow
That sleeps behind the west
As drops the bright winged OriOle at even
| Into her shaded nest
He knew when cracking the red camp-hre's spiral
Shot up into the dark,
And gilded DER the white bols Of the beeches
With many eddying spark.
When from the war-path ready plumed and quversdJ
With battle-axe in hand
And hearts on FIRE with fierce unsated vengeance
Leaped forth the warrior band
He heeds them not his heart is with his mother
Bereft of every joy.
So pale, SILENT all her living spirit
Gone out unto her boy.
OH how she plead for him, youth, his beauty,
Were urged all things above;
| But the cold heart Of pless Ambition
Heeds not the tears Of Love.
The boy of heard in his uneasy slurnber
Her whisper at the door;
And saw between him and the twinkiug starlight
Her shadow the door.
But shadowy waves Of darkness came unfarling
Between them evermore,
Like clouds and mists which hurricanes are hurting
Upon a houseess shore.
Ard sounding through those clouds Ike spirit voices,
The rythmic winds Of night,
Called up from out his brain herce and frshEied,
PAe spectral forms Of might.
Like Wild star that throbs ia "outer darkness"
His young soul struggled on -
Twas past-wth night and cloud and tempest
The star, aad soul were gone!
Next morn the father bearing richest vivands,
A fresh, delicious store,
Rare fruits, and dainty meats, In bowls Of cedar.
Stood by the low lodge-door.
He whispered, Iadla,-Iadinas-
But 70 soft came,