The Middlebury register. [volume] (Middlebury, Vt.) 1850-1882, 1872-07-16
Red Rover.

Above the hillooks where has slept,
The body of warrior brave
Who never was to creeds a slnvei
The sachem of a noble clan
As ever fought the pale face man.
Beloved by brave pappoose and squaw,
Whose very word with them was law.
And whore the white man finds home
Red Rover once did proudly roam;
His hunting grounds were everywhere,
He sought his game in field and nir;
And fearless lured from caves and rocks,
The dreaded bear and crafty fox.
The wild woods with his war whoop rung.
And scalps within his g!rdle hung
Across tho chasm of the past,
A deep and sombre veil is cast
Red Rover's whoop is silent now,
The earth is resting on his brow;
His tomahawk is buried low,
No resurrection more to know;
The winds forever sing his dirgc,
And by his grave the waters surge
The very spot on which you stand,
Was once Red Rcver's hunting land;
The waters which your earth shore kiss,
The fields and meadows once were his;
And where your horses proudly prance,
Red Rover held his battle dance;
Conceals Red Rover's buried dead.
Upon White Rivers waves Of blue,
Red Rover launched his biroh canoe;
He bounded DER its crystal tide,
With faithful warriors by his side;
He brought from out the dashing spray,
The fnny tribe to light of day;
He sported meath its waters clear,
Without lurking doubt or fear.
Upon its banks with flowers enriched,
The dusky chief his wigwain pitched.
He roamed the woods as wild and Tree,
As warbling bird or busy bee;
He knelt upon the wire in sod,
Which white men had never trod,
And praised with reverence deep imbued,
The red mans god Monedo-good.
He studied nature as book,
He read her texts in vale and brook;
The earth's bright green, the skies deep blu'
Were all the bible that he knew;
In bowling storm, in grateful shower,
In singing bird, in blooming flower.
He saw Monedo everywhere
His spirit filled the earth and air.
The crickets chirp, the lightning's flash,
The answering thunder's awful crash,
Tho moaning uea, the warbling rill,
The lowly vale, the lofty hill,
The tempest's roar, the oceans roll,
Were voices to the red mans soul;
Of him, who from chaotic night,
Awoke the slumbering earth to light.
Yes, where, pale faces, is he now
Oh, where the arrow and the bow,
The tomahawk, the wigwam smoke,
The war whoop that the silence broke,
Oh, where the forms of squaw and braves,
And where,the little pappoose grave,
Which sachem fondly loved to guard,
Whose tender were SO i'll stared!
Alas their voices now are still,
And other forms their places ELL;
The white mans wigwam marks the spot,
Where they were once, but now are not.
The war whoop is forever crushed,
And hate within their bosom crushed,
The war trail too, thank God, is lost,
Their barks on peaceful streams are tossed.
Two hundred years have rushed along,
White River sings the same old song,
As when its banks Rcd Rover trod,
At peace with man, at rest with God.
And as it winds upon its way,
From morn to eve, from eve to day,
1t kisses ever the green clad bed,
Where rests in death Red Rover's head
From earth his soul has gained release,
He smokes with all the pipe of peace;
With pale face blends his work Of love.
Around the council fire above;
No angry word, no bitter thought.
Disturbs the quiet of their lot.
Monedo's arms them both enfold,
Their souls by love and right controlled.
Oh, blessed thought the land is nigh,
Where the lamb shall with the lion lie;
Where war and dscord shall be dumb,
And hate to christian love succumb,
Where every human heart shall be
The dwelling place Of harmony;
Where heaven its kingdom shall begin,
And goddess triumph over sim
Then what a gratifying sight,
Will float before our visions bright,
No dark revenge, no bitter feud,
No fields of warfare to intrude;
No weapons reeking with the blood
OF earth's united brotherhood;
All cultivating arts increase,
And with times flight shall know increase
May you. pale faces work with me,
The world from every wrong to free,
That soon upon the heads of all
The dews Of heaven may sweetly fall;
That every household may be blest
With some immortal angel guest,
Whose holy power each soul shall raise,
To truer prayer and loftier praise.
Then when each beautiful canoe
Ia launched upon heavens seas of blue,
Your souls shall rise from things that tire,
To good Monedo's council FIRE,
To greet the friends you love so we'll,
And with them ever more TO dwell:
And among the bright and happy band,