Cherokee Phoenix


Published June, 5, 1830

Page 4 Column 1a


From the Philadelphia Christian Advocate


Gaze on this landscape! once in fleet career,

The desert chieftain trod exulting here!

Cleft with light bark the still and shaded floods,

Pierced the recesses of the old gray woods;

Poured midst their hidden dells his wild halloo (sic),

And the light shaft with aim unerring threw.

Proud was his spirit, fierce, untamed and free,

Scorning to crouch to pain, from death to flee,

With feeling suited to his savage state,

Faithful alike to friendship or to hate,

Seeking no meed beyond a warrior's fame,

And fearing nought except a coward's shame.

These wilds were his; amidst his chosen dell,

Where clustering wild flowers fringed the gushing well,

His hut was reared; and there, at closing day,

He heard his children's laughter- shout of play,

While, weary with the chase, his limbs were laid,

In listless rest, beneath the oak tree's shade.

Then o'er the ocean-sea the white man came

Held to his lips the cup of liquid flame,

With smooth, false words, and bold encroaching hand,

Wrenched from the Cherokee his father's land,

Still on his fast receding footsteps prest (sic),

And urged him onward to the distant West,

'Till all the precincts of his narrowed ground,

Were closely hemmed with cultured life around;

And burning cottages and mangles slain,

Had marked war's footsteps o'er the ravaged plain.

Wearied, at length, the pale browed (sic) stranger swore,

To seek the Indian's hunting ground no more;

Treaties and oaths the solemn compact sealed,

And plenty crowned once more the blood stained field.

Then o'er the red men's altered nature smiled

A kindlier spirit, and a soul more mild;

Bright knowledge poured its sunlight o'er his mind,

His feelings softened, and his heart refined.

No longer then, when passed the storm flash by,

He saw the lightning of Manitto's eye,

Or listened trembling, while his anger spoke,

As high o'er head the pealing thunder broke.

He learned to light in heaven his spirit's flame,

And blend a Saviour's (sic) with Jehovah's name.

Then tell us, ye, who have the power to save,

Shall all his hopes be crushed in one wide grave?

Shall lawless force, with rude, remorseless hand,

Drive out the Indian from his father's land,

Burst all the ties that bind the heart to home,

And thrust him forth, 'mid distant wilds to roam?

Oh no! to mercy's pleading voice give ear,

The wak'ning wrath of outraged justice fear,

Stain not with broken faith our country's name,

Nor weigh her tresses to the dust with shame!

Remember yet the solemn pledge you gave,

And lift the potent arm, to shield and save!.