Spirit of the age. [volume] (Raleigh, N.C.) 1849-1865, 1862-12-01
FOR THE SPIRIT OF THE AGE.
POTOKAH.

from an Old Story of Missionary Life.
BY ANNIE LLoYD.-(coEcLUDED)
PART ~.
Three suas had lived and slept and now,
Melancholy wreathed Potokah's brow,
A smile would fit Ger his pale face,
Then leave a sadness in it's place.
His look was changed. sad and ~forlorn.
His sweet voice had q mournful tone,
He fingered sad within the cot,
The birds sang, but he needed not;
His friend with sorrow saw the change,
So sad, SO suddenly and strange.
He knew his ~life-star would be dim,
II POtOkah now was torn from him;
He was so woven round his heart,
How could he bear from him to part
"COme let US roam the forest wild,
The air will strengthen thee, my child.
PotokahI fear that thou art ILL.,,
And sadness doth thy bosom fll."
Wen co." he said, in tones sublime,
s But it will be for the last time"
What meanest thou my gentle boy,
What fancy hath disturbed thy JOY
"Sweetly Potokah dreamed last night,
Dreamed OF the spirit land
And his mother, smiling, beckOned him
With her bright radiant hand.
Potokah soon must go to her,
Who loved him till she died,
And when another moon has waned,
He'll sleep by his mothers side.
"'Tis wrong to try to pierce, my boy,
Futurity's dark veil;
Forget, POtokah, soon that dream,
just like an idle tale"
" l feel it here, he said, #E
With his hand upon his breast,
These words brought to the christians heart,
A sad and wild unrest,
The two, in deepest thought,
Walked ON in silence there:
Nought but twittering birds and rustling leaves
Disturbed the calm, still air.
When q sudden sound was heard.
That made the deer to start
The heroic youth sprang forward,
Receiving in his heart,
The deadly arrow sent
To slay his own dear friend,
Who, all hOrrOr-stricken now,
Did DER his darling bend. ..
Then a piercing shrek was heard,
Not from the boy it CAME
1t was Mecumeh who his son,
His only boy had slain
The wretched father knelt
Beside his dying boy,
And the so.rowing friend gaxed sad upon
Wild with revenge, Mecumeh had a
Long watched his foe to slay,
And thought he'd slay his hated man
That beauteOus summer day.
And he would well have hit his mark.
Had not P0tokah sprung,
Receiving, in his breast, the dart
From the bow his father strung.
Now the warm life-blood came flowing
From his dying breast,
And bis breath came faint and slowly,
AZ he WAS nearing rest.
His head was pillowed on his breast
or him he loved so well,
As ne Dreathed the last faint words
II 60 to her-farewel."
The meek and christian man forgot
The mourner was his foe, -
And consolation spoke to him
In sorrow bent so low.
After this with the pale face went
An Indian tall, but bending now.
His hair was white as bleached with AGE.
And wrinkled was his saddened brow.
Some whispered that remOrse and grief
Had ploughed their burrows there:
That they had humbled him once proud.
And bleached his raven hair.
1t was Mecumeh now most changed.
From no pale face he is estranced:
The christians spirit, forgiving, mild.
Had touched bis heart. once savage, wild.
And he had, broken-hearted vowed.
Ger the grave Of his murdered boy.
To be the white mans friend till death.
Though hopeless crushed was all his 10Y.
The p~ale-face watched his dying couch.
And whispered words Of peace,
And hoped he'd meet his angel boy,
Where JOY shall never cease.