Raftsman's journal. [volume] (Clearfield, Pa.) 1854-1948, 1857-04-01
[pY REQuEsT.l
THK DYING SONG OF THE LAST RRDMAN.

the interesting subject presented, as he is with
the harmonious numbers in which it is exhibi-
ted 10 the reader.
! heard, or seemed to hear, plaintYe strain,
As once | sat retired in some lone spot
And list t'Iing, thought heard voice complain
But much of what 1t said is now forgot,
1t seemed to be one mourning; hard his lot,
And from all lov'd on earth was far away
Oppressed at heart with feeble steps he sought
on shady rock, beside it Kneeled to pray,
Then rising, mid his grief, 1 thought, heard
him say
Gall desolate stand no friend no home
20 place of rest, no shelter for my head,
Last OF the Redmen, DER the earth roam,
Through forests-streams-by some strange
fancy led
The clear blue heavens my tent, the earth
my bed.
Each day search one like myself 10 find
But cannot, for my kindred all are de1d,
Ana !, an orphan lone, am left behind,
Cheericss, and shelterless, the sport of cv'ry
wind.
my eyes, with longing seek to rest on one
Whose heart and blood are kindred to my
OWL.
But those, triumphant long, their race have run
And in their turn but reaped what they had
sown;
Long ere thePalcface was to manhood grown
They were the monarehs of thew Western world,
But now. they steep in silence-I alone
Still finger. Down to death the rest were
hurled,
While DER their graves float Freedom's fairest
flag unfurled.
ga hundred winters rest upon my head,
Now white as winters snow o. MonO's brow,
a hundred summers from nv sight have fed.
And LETT it dim, and | am ready now,
The last, and strongest of my race to bow
Ay head in pensive sadness to my fate
For no one comforts me. or tells me how,
Or where 10 find some fond cOngenial mate
All seem the poor forsaken Indian still to
HATE.
'sOur fathers saw the Paleface when he fed
A lonely exile, O'eT the vast blue deep;
lie looked like one returning from the dead
Like one awakened from his long cold sleep;
Theypited him, they told him not to weep;
Their arrows caught for him the tiretng deer.
Unknown, they nourished him, who now
doth sweep
The dark browed Indian from his home so dear,
Till Ger his grave there's none to drop aHec-
ton's tear.
s.Once as the stars in number, now we're few
Disease hath wasted us, diseases brought
By those whom fondly to our hearts we drew,
And through our kindnes their diseases
caught;
Now sad and lonely is the Redman's lot,
The pitied stranger pitics not in turn,
100 ueaTiN nave We Sal experience Douglt,
Since in their bOsOms fercer passions burn.
Which make them from their hearts their lgl-
low-creaturcs Spurn.
"Their hands are many and where'rth they please,
They lay those hands Oh stream and land
scape wide;
Call them their own of right, by firm decree,
Giv'n to themselves the saints-and tears
derIde,
Shed by the lonely orphan by his side
Tt,s ,,.s.,
away
Ere long the last poor Indian will have died /;
Some whispering spirit Stems, me thinks,to say,
why dost thou lonely one, to come to us delay
r.Thus has it evor beon. By Gozaa's stream,
We hung our harps that gave harmonious
sound,
Nor since that fatal day, could the sweet theme,
We sung SO oft on Zion's Hill, be found.
Those songs have ceased, songs once so
much renowned,
When lsrael's Cheftain led in holier strain,
And list ming multitudes were gathered round
The victim, which, by Heavens appointment
slain,
Foresbadowed One to come, who would not
die in vain.
seOur eyes were dim with watching, but we saw
No Prince, like him who led our tribes of
old
who gave from Sinai's Mount, that holy law,
One, who like him the future could unfold,
Whose voice we were to hear whose word obey.
So long we waited fo- him, but behold
He comes not to redeem us, still we pray,
Though far from Zions Mount, we pass our
time away.
e.But il was Just in HIM to cast us off,
Whose temple on Mount Zion we forsook,
Whose holy ord 'nances we made scof,
And turned from what written in His
Book.
Now on that sacred Roll we may not look;
IT'S lost, and for long years we could not find {:
It seems some judgment dire hath nature
shook,
While visions strange oft pass before the mind,
Hope CLEANS, expires, and o, what SAD wreck
behind
"0uI prophets all have died; our seers gone
God seems in anger to heve shut his ear
And still that day they spoke of,does not dawn
That One comes not, whose voice we were
to hear.
Ger earth our tribes we're scattered far ana
near;
Forgotten too that Rest we once enjoyed.
New Moons and Sabbaths to the soul so dear
y, from the Truth, how have we been decoyed,
Until Times wasting hand hath all our tribes
destroyed.
ono; there was one that did not God forsaIe,
That linger'd still when we were led away
That tri be did not Of Bethel's sin partake,