Fayetteville observer. [volume] (Fayetteville, Tenn.) 1850-1966, 1856-02-07
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AN INDIAN LEGEND,


| A PRIZE POEM.
! Composed in t,co hours t,Uenty-seven minutes
| nineteen seconds and a-haF.
o, reader! your ears few moments,
And though they appear rather long.
| q mean, not ycur ears, but the moments,)
| l beg you'll still list to my song.
And I'll tell you wonderful story
OF bold Indian warrior of eld,
And perhaps the most beautiful maiden
That ever mortal beheldi
All, it is the most wonderful legend
That ever vet challenged belief
The horrible, heart-rending story
Of the beautiful maid and her chief
A legend the strangest recorded
In romance, or writ in the rhyme
OF the laurel-crowned minstrels that slumbel
In the dim, misty midnight of time!
And let me here pause TO remind you,
That it is most horrible tale!
And will make your hair point to the zenith,
And turn your cheek ashy and pale!
And so. if you like not the feeling
OF the blood all CONCEALED in the heart,
You'd better here cut my acquaintance,
And take to your heels at the start.
For ere have finished this legend,
Your flesh in its horror will creep,
And your eyeballs, distended and bloody,
From their sockets in terror will leap!
And all your life long in your slumbers
You'll hear the war-whoop as it peals!
And fancy that millions of devils
Are yelling like mad at your heels!
Then, let me advise you to vamose-
Absquatulate e-vanish--depart,
Unless you've the melt of the tigress,
And the lions unscarable heart.
Well, since you've determined to stand it,
Don't saddle the blame upon me,
IF ghosts and hobgoblins should haunt you,
For warned you just how it would be.
The chieftain, as dauntless warrior
AS ever in battle drew blade,
Was, classicslly speaking, ''some pumpkins
And was rather in love with the maid.
Nor was it a matter of wonder,
For she was excessively fair.
With a form quite as airy and agile
As aught in earth, ocean or air.
Her hair was as Black as the devil,
And worn without ringlets or curls;
Her eyes were shade or two darker,
And her teeth were much whittier than pearls
And the chieftain he knelt him before her,
And uttered full many vow;
But the maiden, whose name was-but hang it
really can't think of it now.
I was about to remark that the maiden
Was compelled the chiefs offer to spurn,
As her love was already invested
For life in another concern.
And she told him, in language and manner
No words of my own can describe,
That cher troth to another was plighted,
And she couldn't wed oil of her tribe!''
Which was true; for friend Smith, as at present
Had nothing for calico done,
And twas thought unbecoming for woman
To cling to more coat-tails than one.
But write of time ere those Latter
Day sinners to Polygamy bowed,
When solitary dimity pattern
Was as much as a man was allowed.
The chieftain, by 10 means discouraged,
As the reader will readily guess,
Again sought the side Of the maiden,
And more earnestly urged his address.
But the maiden. she piously answered.
In voice not resembling flutes,
Which I am told, of course by tradition,
Quite lifted him out of his boots:
"Be done with your silly palaver-
Let your tea-kettle tempest be calmed,
For before would promise to wed you,
would see you eternally-confounded /"
y.
Ind she turned on her heel and departed,
While the chieftain grew wrathy and straigh
Made fool of himself in a manner
( Which ! haven't the time to relate.
Suffice it to say. that for nearly
An hour he did nothing but rave.
And then he ran down to the river
And flung himself into the wavel
But when he went under the water.
He thought Of much heavier ills.
Than simply, his lady-love wouldn't
Let him settle her milliner's bills.
So he put for the opposite landing,
Where the water less rapidly ran,
Ard slowly the bank he ascended,
A wiser and muddier man!