From the Washington Spectator.
We have received the following from a friend of the author. We present it as the remonstrance of a chief Representative of the former friend of the Indians.--Ed. Spec.
THE EXILE OF THE INDIANS.
By G.W.P. Curtis, Esq. of Arlington. inscribed to Mrs. Lydia H. Sigourney.
'The Eagle suffers little birds to sing.'-Shak.
Has the fiat gone forth? Must the poor
Afar from the heaths and the tombs of his sires,
And, seeking in some distant region a home,
Again in a Wilderness kindle his fires?
And shall He, who sits on the bright throne
With all human kind in his parental care,
Be deaf to the plaint of the Red Man, thus
Away from his birthright? My country beware!
The Indian's degenerate-no longer the bold.
The proud Forest Chief, who, before his sad fall,
Had a world for his empire--and he, uncontroll'd
The lordly possessor, and monarch of all.
He has fallen, indeed, from his once high estate,
The gleam of big glory forever has faded,
And will no generous spirits now pity his fate
A Noble of Nature thus lowly degraded?
Aiknomac was lofty when first to his shore
Came sea beaten strangers. He hast'ned
to meet them.
Bade them enter the wigwam, and share
in its store,
And the right hand of friendship extended
to greet them.
When _______ these first hardy mariners
The perils of unvoyaged oceans to brave,
They found a rude people, mild, happy,
'Mid blessings and bounties a Providence
Volume 2, .
They planted the Cross, bade the savage
As the emblem of Peace and Salvation to
Then slew the poor natives, while kneeling
And by rapine completed what Treachery
Volume 3, .
'Twas thus did these pallid adventures
Why left they fair regions where all Nature
New worlds to discover, in search of their
And to conquer a world where all Nature
Then the Indian aroused him, and daring
With valor that shone in his fame's early
He fought for his country with 'war to
The danger and death-stroke undauntedly
Ah vain was his courage, the victor's keen brand
Has hewn 'mong the Red Men so wide a
That soon on Pacific's lone desolate stand,
Will wander one of the last of a once
For shame, Oh my country-be noble and
The Indians. Oh think of how much
thou'st bereft them.
Then cease still to tread these poor worms
to the dust,
To wring from their remnant the little
you've left them.
Is our empire so small, that, from absolute
We wrest from the Savage, his dreary
That 'enriches, not us, but makes him
And all from the lust of dominion and gain.
Where, where is your Chief, who the
Red man befriended,
That wisest in council, the braves of the brave?
He sleeps in the soil that his valor he
The tears of the Red Man still fall on his
When the Indians were humbled, and
Low bent the knee.
Their Great father was touched by the
woes that distress'd them,
Bade them go to their deserts, be happy
Nor fear that the White Man would ever
The Eagle should suffer the red bird to
Mid haunts in the forests, and on the
And shelter beneath her magnificent wing,
The poor native songsters, that will soon
sing no more.