SACHEM'S-WOOD: SHORT POEM, WITH NOTES. NEW HAVEN: PUBLISHED BY B. o: W. NOYES. Hiithcuck & SiaiToiJ, Primers. 1838. 2Hil\} :^ I i Fellow-Citizens : The sweet-blowing breezes of these regenerated times, have stimulated a be- fore drooping fancy, (even in extremely- warm weather !) to the task of weaving a few rhymes ; which, as they relate to local matters, I beg you to accept, as a testimony of renewed pleasure and pride in my native State. New Havk\, 'JOth July, 1838. SACHEM'S-WOOD. Farewell to " Highwood /" name made dear By lips we never more can hear ! That came, unsought for, as I lay, Musing o'er landscapes far away ; Expressive just of what one sees, The upland slope, the stately trees ; Oaks, prouder that beneath their shade His lair the valiant Pequot made, Whose name, whose gorgon lock alone, Turned timid hearts to demi-stone. sachem's-wood. Within this green pavilion stood, Oft, the dark princes of the wood, Debating whether Philip's cause Were paramount to Nature's laws ; — Whether the tomahawk and knife Should^ at his bidding, smoke with life ; — Or pact endure, with guileless hands, Pipes lit for peace, and jyaid-for lands, With men, who slighted frowns from kings, Yet kept their faith in humblest things. The " Pillars" of our infant state, (1) Shafts, now, in Zion's upper gate. How changed, how softened, since the trail Suddenly turned the finder pale ; Since Highwood's dells, a tangled brake, Harboured the otter, deer, and snake ; Since to St. Ronan's sparkling brink The wolf and wild cat came to drink ; Since our good sires in their old hall. Met armed for combat, prayer, and all ! Now, from this bench, the gazer sees Towers and white steeples o'er the trees, Mansions that peep from leafy bowers, And villas blooming close by ours ; Hears the grave clocks, and classic bell. Hours for the mind and body tell ; Or starts, and questions, as the gong Bids urchins not disport too long. SACHEM S- WOOD. A blended murmur minds the ear That an embosom'd City's near. See ! how its guardian Giants tower. Changing their aspects with the hour ! — There, Sassacus* in shade or glow, Hot with the noon, or white with snow, Dark in the dawn, at evening red. Or rolUng vapours round his head, A type of grandeur ever stands. From God's benignant, graceful hands ! Once, on his top the Pequot stood. And gazed o'er all the world of wood, Eyed the blue Sound, and scann'd the bays, Distinct in evening's mellow rays. For ships, pursuing on the main. As Mason tracked him o'er the plain. Like a green map, lay all below, "With glittering veins where rivers flow. The Island loomed, in soft repose ; — No spire, no mast, no mansion rose ; — Smokes, here and there, from out the screen Denoted still an Indian scene ; One, only, native roof he sees. Where Belmont now o'erlooks the trees. (2) The distance stretched in haze away, As from his Mount by Mystic bay, * East Rock. SACHEM S-WOOD. Whence, as the cakimet went round, His ejT^es could measure all the Sound, Or, in the boundless Ocean, find Delight for his untutored mind. Far eastward steals his glistening eye, There, where his throne, his people lie, Lie prostrate — subjects, children, power, All, all extinguished in an hour. (3) The heart-wrung savage turned aside — But no tear stained a Pequot's pride ; The dark hand spread upon his breast. Only, the wampum grasped, and pressed : He turned — he stopped — took one last view- And then, like Regulus, withdrew. These mountains, rivers, woods, and plain. Ne'er saw the Pequot King again ; Far in the regions of the west. The Mohawk sent him to his rest. No Pale-face boasted ; none made bold To touch that lock, till he was cold. Shall no memorial in the land Remain of Sassacus ? Like sand Beat by the sea, shall every trace Of the great spirit of his race, Be swept away ? — No longer, tame Mountains by an ignoble name. Let Sassacus forever tower. Changing his aspect with the hour ! (4) SACHEM S-VVOOD. In the soft west, as day declines, The Regicide,* his rival, shines ; Whose noble outline on the sky- Draws, and detains, the enamoured eye, For, floating there, the steeds of eve Flakes from their ruddy nostrils leave. In his wild solitudes, of old, The patriot Outlaws kept their hold. When foreign optics that way dart, A thrill electric wakes the heart ; Imagination hurries o'er Our early annals, and before ; Flits, and is gone, from that lone Rock, To the sad pageant of the block. Seldom, a real scene you see So full of sweet variety ; The gentle objects near at hand. The distant, flowing, bold, and grand. I've seen the world, from side to side, Walked in the ways of human pride, Mused in the palaces of kings, And know what wealth to grandeur brings ; The spot for me, of all the earth, Is this, the dear one of my birth. Go, search the page of Grecian lore, Scan all the men, and deeds, of yore, * West Rock. 10 sachem's-wood. Read how the Kingless Power grew great, And note how wolf-cubs found a state ; Go, feast among the Feudal brave ; Go, quaff with robbers in their cave ; Try, what distinction reason's eye, Twixt towers and caverns can espy. Then, mark how our " Seven Pillars" rise. Built up, like those which prop the skies. On Justice, Truth, and Peace, and Love, With Grace cemented from Above ! Where is the violence or wrong Done to the weak, as we grew strong ? Where is the record of disgrace We blush, or ought to blush, to face ? What landless Indian could declare Ow' shameful arts to peel him bare ? Or, justly change, if armed with powers, A mete or landmark claimed as ours 1 The spot most blameless of the earth Is this, the sweet one of my birth ; This, and the land where virtuous Penn Followed his Saviour out, with men. Vicarious agency, we know, Is heaven's proceeding here below. Thro' others' faith, in others' stead. Mercies find access to our head. Our fathers' noble self-denial Purchased a treasure we've on trial ; sachem's-wood. 11 Which low ambition, avarice, crimes, May turn to dross in after times. They, who. in Newman's barn, laid down Scripture "foundations" for the town ; (5) The men, I say, whose practic mind Left Locke and Plato far behind, They drank the cup, they bore the pain,. And see ! what crowns our native plain ! So, by another's taste and toil. High wood was snatched from common soil, Its oaks preserved, and we placed here, With thanks to crown the circling year. Ah ! what a race by him was run. Whose day began before the sun ; Who, at the sultry hour of noon. Felt action, action still a boon ; Who, at the weary shut of eve. No respite needed, no reprieve ; But, in those hours when others rest. Kept public care upon his breast ! Need we demand a cherished thought. For one whose lavish labours brought Health, comfort, value, praise, and grace, (Even for our bones, a resting place,) To the lov'd spot for which he stood. When neighbour townsmen gasped in blood ? — But Heaven leaves not to human praise The recompense of well-spent days. 12 SACHEM S-WOOD. The cheerful morn, the short, sweet night, The mind, as sunshine, ever bright. Approving conscience, growing store, (For tho' God took, he gave back more ;) A breast, like Hector's, of such space. That strength and sweetness could embrace ; Power to endure, and soul to feel No hardship such, for others' weal ; Ardour, that logic could not shake ; Resource, the nonplus ne'er to take ; A filial love of mother earth That made keen labour sweet as mirth ; — All, brought him to his age so green, Stamped him so reverend, so serene, A stranger cried, (half turning round,) " That face is worth a thousand pound !" Urged by a simple antique zeal. Which spoils-men are too wise to feel. He traversed States like stents for boys ; (C) Huge forests pierced o'er coi'diiroys ; — Now, grain by grain, the folios sifted. Thro' which some Proteus title shifted ; — Now, o'er deep fords, by night, as day. O'er mountain ledges, pick'd his way ; Here, on his path, the savage glaring. There, savage whites his gray head daring :- Still — rain, or snow, or mirk, or mire — Tracks were the tokens of the sire ! sachem's-wood. 13 Tracks of a minim called Young Gin, His sulky that you see me in ! The patient sparkle in his eye, Said he would yet sup Jordan dry. (7) Fancy oft bids affection mark His little, onward-toiling ark, Like a dark speck, on some hill's breast, Climbing, to vanish in the West ; And asks, what thoughts sustained and cheer'd, What were his hopes, and what he feared? If aught he feared, 'twas not that Eye, Certain the upright to descry. That watched thro' houseless wilds his way, Kept him in darkness safe as day. And, doubtless, soothed his journeyings lone, As that meek Servant's of his own. Like a ripe ear, at last he bends Close on the brink, that trial ends. None saw his spirit in decay. Or marked his vigour ebb away. Grace bade him lay his own white head. For the last time, on his own bed, Then, as to spare the gloom of death. Took, at a draft, the Sache7n^s breath. (8) But other Highwoods meet the ear, Making our home scarce ours appear. Something uncommon, something wild, Peculiar to the Forest child. 14 sachem's-wood. Would please me more than any name To which another can lay claim. So farewell High wood ! — " Highwood-Par/c" O'ersteps the democratic mark : We never gave it, or desired, We never owned it, or admired. A Yankee — Whig — and gentleman, Should be a plain republican — Proud he may be, (some honest pride Would do no harm on t'other side,) Proud for his country, but not full Of pufty names, like Mr. Bull ; Proud of his good old Federal stock ; Ready to give for't word or knock ; Fouling no nest in which he grew, As many modern patriots do ; Flinching from no man's sneer or ire ; Sticking to truth, thro' print and fire ; Dead against demagogues, and tricks ; Staunch as the Whig of seventy-six, Whose grass-grown remnants, yonder, feel More genuine warmth for human weal. Than all the " crib-fed" knaves and drones, That praise and pick us to the bones. Ancestral woods ! must we forego An epithet we love and know. For some new title, and proclaim That steady folk have changed their name. SACHEM S-WOOD. 15 'Twere ominous — It should not be — It looks like turning— Hold ! let's see— The name, I swear, I won by wit, I poached on no man — stole not' it — 'Twas branded on my rakes and hoes. Before the other Highwood rose. Yet legends say that Geoffrey Crayon, Cruising round Weehawk one play day on, (For where " auld Hornie !" has not he Spook' d twixt the prairies and the sea?) (9) There, where your eye, at once, controls Sails from the tropics and the poles, The belted city, glorious bay. And, northward, God's and Clinton's way, Down which, an empire's harvests ride, (10) And Fulton's smoking chariots glide ; Christened the trees that then peeped o'er The bastions of that haughty shore, Highwood. — Pray how could I Know, or suspect a thing so sly ? — And were that Highwood now the den (11) Of foxes, or that kind of men, Egad ! I'd hurl the name so far, It ne'er my tympanum could jar. But when we reason something higher, Observe, there, people we admire ; Of j)roven worth, urbane, and true ; Keeping the line their fathers drew; 16 sachem's-wood. A graceful vine, a noble shoot, Each from a venerated root ; (12) Good stock, good nurture, and a tone, I hope, as Federal as mine own — I feel 1 blush to own the pain — And half am tempted to refrain. — But memory's glass is at mine eye ; — And shadows pass of things gone by. The Sachem^s day is o'er, is o'er ! His hatchet, (buried oft before,) (13) In earnest rusts ; while he has found, Far off, a choicer hunting ground. Here, where in life's aspiring stage. He planned a wigwam for his age, Vowing the woodman's murderous steel, These noble trunks should never feel ; Here, where the objects of his care. Waved grateful o'er his silver hair ; Here, where as silent moons roll by. We think of him beyond the sky. Resting among the Wise and Good, Our hearts decide for Sachem's-Wood. Sachem's- Wood, 30