LIBRARY OF^QflNGRESS. 
 
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 UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 
 

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K E A R. 
 
 A POEM IN SEVEN CANTOS. 
 
 BY 
 
 REV. E. A. WARRINER. 
 
 PHILADELPHIA: 
 
 J. B. LIPPINCOTT & CO. 
 
 1882. 
 

 Copyright, 1882, by REV. E. A. Warriner. 
 
O God, Existence, Nature's Soul and Law, 
 First unto thee my heart its homage pays ; 
 For as from thine our conscious life we draw, 
 So from thy glory springs enduring praise. 
 Thou art the Light of lights, the Day of days ; 
 In thee all brightness, life, and beauty hide; 
 Thou One in All, to thee my face I raise, — 
 O Father, Brother, Spirit, let not pride 
 Nor aught untrue in me my life from thine divide. 
 
 Kear, to whose gloomy spirit 'neath the pines 
 A ray of sunshine heavenly promise brought ; 
 Thou priest who ministered at Nature's shrines. 
 And from her Soul her inspirations caught. 
 Which heavenly life, and love, and wisdom wrought. 
 Be still my teacher as in years gone by. 
 When daily sitting at thy feet I sought 
 To know life's true philosophy, and why 
 The light and darkness blend, and all things live and 
 die. 
 
 3 
 
4 KEAR. 
 
 And ye, too, spirits of earth's solitude, 
 Souls hid from sight, but once to flesh allied, 
 Who throng the silent dell, the lonely wood. 
 The pebbly paths where sylvan waters glide. 
 Draw near, nor from my eyes your presence hide ; 
 The legends of your outward lives reveal ; 
 For I, who to thy haunts my footsteps guide, 
 Would know the truths which outward forms con- 
 ceal, — 
 The freedom, love, and joy that deathless spirits feel. 
 
 List ! in the waters sweetly murmuring, 
 In the low breeze and rustling leaves I hear 
 The soft vibrations of a hidden string. 
 Lo ! one by one the living dead appear, — 
 The plumed chief, the maiden, lover, seer. 
 Whose names and deeds to other days belong ; 
 Who lived and died, were born and buried here. 
 Recalled to life by magic sylvan song, 
 People the woods and round the hidden minstrel 
 throng. 
 
CANTO FIRST. 
 
 Proud Susquehanna rolls his waters on, 
 
 Scarce mindful of the changes time has brought ; 
 
 The Delaware and Iroquois have gone, 
 
 And every work by Nature's children wrought. 
 
 Yet the same spirit which her children caught 
 
 From cloud and sunshine, wood and mountain 
 
 stream, 
 And which the laws of life and virtue taught, 
 Still lingers on his shores, and still the theme 
 Inspires of ancient legend and of poet's dream. 
 
 I* 5 
 
KEAR 
 
 II. 
 
 Hidden, remote, in Pennsylvania's hills, 
 Thy vine-clad cottages, O fair Montrose ! 
 Thy fields of green watered by mountain rills, 
 And the pure sparkle of thy winter's snows. 
 No romance of forgotten years disclose ; 
 Yet here strange legends of the past abound. 
 Here hostile ashes side by side repose. 
 For thine was once "The Dark and Bloody Ground," 
 Where heroes strove for fame and graves of glory 
 found. 
 
 III. 
 
 Yet not of these the forest muses sing, 
 For scarce to listening ears nor woods nor streams 
 A lingering echo of vain glory bring. 
 A loftier theme inspires the poet's dreams; 
 A legend and a prophecy it seems, — 
 An aspiration of impassioned minds, 
 Which worldly wisdom vain delusion deems, 
 And yet the link God and his creatures binds, 
 And which e'en life in death, and joy in sorrow finds. 
 
KEAR. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Whilom, one spring-time,— 'twas the Moon of Leaves, 
 When Nipoon Oki, Summer's Soul, returns 
 With odorous, life-inspiring breath, and weaves 
 Anew his leafy bowers, his mossy urns. 
 And viny draperies o'er his couch of ferns ; 
 When, in the evening sky and placid lake, 
 With softer light Osseo's spirit burns; 
 And, as the birds and flowers, all things partake. 
 His love renewed, and live each for another's sake, — 
 
 A lonely lake, once called the Whispering Wave, 
 At twilight hour mirrored a maiden face 
 Of wondrous beauty, pure as sculptors grave 
 On spotless stone, yet dark as limners trace 
 On chancel windows ; and a form whose grace 
 Was like the supple willow's bending o'er 
 Ewayea's dreamy tide, — maiden of royal race, 
 Named, as a crystal pebble on the shore, 
 Eniskin, — fairest spirit of the days of yore. 
 
KEAR. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Her dress was green and russet, Nature's prints 
 Of spring and autumn, gathered at her waist 
 By woven belt of red and orange splints. 
 White moccasins her slender feet encased, 
 Beaded and worked in Nature's faultless taste 
 Of blending figures. Olive leggins bound 
 Her rounded limbs. Vermilion beads embraced 
 Her neck, bright-tinted as her lips. Around 
 Her form a scarlet mantle gracefully was wound. 
 
 VII. 
 
 Her birch canoe, close by the silvery strand. 
 Lay floating as an autumn leaf upon 
 The dark, still waters. Leaning on her hand. 
 Lightly and motionless, she sat alone 
 Therein, intently gazing down, as one 
 Entranced, into the glassy lake reflecting there 
 Her face beneath the moon, with stars that shone 
 As sparkling diamonds on her glossy hair, — 
 As jewelled coronet redeemed spirits wear. 
 
KEAR. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 But now her thoughts are turned within. Her eyes, 
 
 Tender and sad, betray no consciousness 
 
 Of beauty, but of grief and sacrifice. 
 
 As those of cloistered women who repress 
 
 ' Instinctive longings which their hearts confess, — 
 The tender yearnings, passionate, and vain, 
 And sinful deemed, but which, indulged, oppress 
 Their souls with penitence, and yet again 
 
 Return ; for love is life, — to it all joys pertain. 
 
 IX. 
 
 Love is the spirit of our sympathies. 
 Earthly or heavenly, sensual or pure : 
 Earthly, 'tis mortal ; heavenly, never dies. 
 Though first untried, uncertain, immature, 
 If sympathies are true, 'twill e'er endure. 
 And grow and strengthen through eternal years, 
 Till in a perfect unity secure, 
 It overcomes all weakness, doubts, and fears. 
 And one with Love Supreme, it wipes away all tears. 
 
KEAR. 
 
 X. 
 
 Eniskin's love was true, though long repressed 
 By earthly glory and ancestral pride ; 
 Within her heart alone its power confessed, 
 And dwelling there with doubt and fear allied, — 
 A flame that could not die, whate'er betide 
 Her outward life, — it was both grief and joy, 
 A sore temptation and an angel guide. 
 Thus doubt and fear our purest faith alloy. 
 And torture most the souls which they can ne'er de- 
 stroy. 
 
 XI. 
 
 Of noble birth, — daughter of Tamaned, 
 Alike for courage, strength, and counsel famed ; 
 The most renowned of the illustrious dead 
 In Indian legend and tradition named ; 
 Whose mighty deeds heroic souls inflamed. 
 And o'er his tribe a matchless lustre threw. 
 That long the brave inspired, the faltering shamed, 
 No glory but her sire's she deemed as true. 
 And in its inspiration, pride, and spirit grew. 
 
KEAR. 
 
 XII. 
 
 Yet trained and disciplined in Nature's laws, 
 'Mid birds and flowers in Nature's nursery, 
 Whose spirit is the fountain, substance, cause 
 Of all ideal life and beauty, she 
 From artifice, deceit, and fashion free. 
 Had grown as grow the lilies of the field. 
 In faultless taste and sweet simplicity ; 
 In perfect health, illumined, crowned, and sealed 
 With beauty, virtue, truth, in Nature's soul concealed. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 Beneath a spreading elm, whose branches swept 
 The ground, her infancy was nursed. Here hung 
 In the cool summer shadows, while she slept. 
 Her tiny hammock by the breezes swung 
 And branches tossed; nursed as the oriole's young. 
 That built its netted hammock o'er her own, 
 And 'mid the leaves from morn till evening sung. 
 Thus had her life begun, and thus had grown, 
 And naught but nature's freedom, music, gladness 
 known. 
 
12 KEAR. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 All her expressions were from Nature drawn, 
 As those of tinted blossoms from the light, — 
 The willow's grace, the cloudless morning's dawn, 
 The laughter of the brooks, the swallow's flight. 
 The robin's burst of song, the exquisite 
 Mixed colorings and forms of flowers and leaves, 
 The wave's soft whisperings, the glances bright 
 Of rippling streams, the instinct that conceives ^ 
 The rose's tints and dress, and oriole's hammock 
 weaves. 
 
 XV. 
 
 As seen in prophet's dream the angels climb 
 A ladder, step by step the soul ascends. 
 Our immortality is nursed in time, 
 And dawns as morning light with darkness blends. 
 Each noble aim in heavenly glory ends \ 
 And though the spirit struggle into birth 
 With sighs and tears, yet even sorrow tends, 
 Alike with purest joys of priceless worth. 
 To point the way of life, and lure the soul from earth. 
 
KEAR. 
 
 .XVI. 
 
 13 
 
 But first, howe'er so sweet our life may be, 
 Ere we to heaven aspire, the germs I ween 
 Of thoughts that live to immortality. 
 To us are given, — conceived from some unseen 
 And conscious presences that intervene 
 God's spirit and our own, and which impart 
 From him the quickening life, the golden sheen 
 Of heavenly bright ideals to the heart, — 
 Nurture the good and true therein, the evil thwart. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 So now, while thus scarce conscious she looks down 
 Into her mirrored face and sorrowing eyes. 
 And sees encircled by a starry crown 
 Her lustrous head, dimly there seem to rise — 
 As angels come sometimes in earthly guise 
 To guide the troubled to a peaceful fold. 
 Or point the weary to a heavenly prize — 
 Visions of glory, coronets of gold. 
 Love perfected through grief, and crowned with joys 
 untold. 
 
14 
 
 KBIAR 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 Though not forgot, 'twas long before, and when 
 In trial's hour sorrow in perfect love 
 Was swallowed up, these visions came again ; 
 When faith in tears and grief for victory strove ; 
 Nor vainly, for a crown in jewels wove 
 Appeared, — a light in which the sun 
 Grows dark ; a joy all earthly joys above, — 
 Through sacrifice an endless glory won. 
 For thus are heaven on earth, and life in death begun. 
 
PRELUDE TO CANTO SECOND. 
 
 THE INFINITE. 
 
 A TRINITY in all things there must be, 
 For two straight lines cannot enclose a space. 
 All things are one, and One is All in Three, 
 Who doth all things within himself embrace. 
 Whether condition, matter, mind, or place, 
 Trimie must all things be, and all things one; 
 And as the rainbow's colors interlace 
 And blend in white, so Father, Spirit, Son, — 
 Apart, Truth, Life, and Light, — when joined, are God 
 alone. 
 
 15 
 
J 6 KEAJ^. 
 
 IT. 
 
 And as of every trinity each part 
 A substance is, each also is threefold 
 And infinite. And so where'er we start, 
 Or whatsoe'er direction move, behold 
 A limitless succession is unrolled ! — 
 In increase or decrease, in great or small, 
 In time or space, changes, forms new or old, 
 Unseen or seen, mental or physical, — 
 Witliout a first or last, boundless, eternal all ! 
 
 III. 
 
 The Infinite ! in this all mysteries 
 Are swallowed up. It is each reason why, 
 Each source and sequence. Question, doubt, sur- 
 prise. 
 In its conception end. Philosophy 
 Founded therein alone can satisfy 
 All queries, solve all problems, and inspire 
 The purpose, effort, hope that never die. 
 All things are possible, and ever higher 
 May souls ascend and grow in limitless desire. 
 
REAR. 
 
 IV. 
 
 17 
 
 Things seem to end indeed, but only change ; 
 For infinite are forms, conditions too ; 
 And those decompositions that estrange 
 The spirit from the body, and undo 
 Organic forms, are meant but to renew 
 Or change them for the better or the worse, 
 According to their state. It must be true 
 That all things are eternal, for their source 
 Is in the Infinite, and thitherward their course. 
 
 V. 
 
 There is no end and no beginning. Hence,. 
 Effects and causes we call ultimate. 
 Or final, are but relative in sense, 
 Not positive, as things called small or great, 
 And differ only in degree or state. 
 They are no more in mystery involved 
 Than causes and effects immediate. 
 Effect and cause are naturally solved, — 
 All things from precedent conditions are evolved. 
 2- 
 
1 8 KEAR. 
 
 VI. 
 
 But while all parts are infinite in one 
 Or many qualities, as length, and height, 
 And breadth, or substance, time, and space, yet none 
 Is infinite in all things. Yet as white 
 Is one and all the colors of the light, 
 So of existences there is an All — 
 A One in whom all trinities unite — 
 That comprehends each faction great and small, 
 And which Existence, God, Wisdom, and Love we call. 
 
 VII. 
 
 The Infinite of infinities is he. 
 The God of gods, the All in all, the Whole 
 Of consciousness in being, One in three. 
 Nature of natures. Love of loves, the Soul 
 Of souls, the Life of lives. In his control 
 Is every law or truth. In him alone 
 Is freedom limitless, — the unreached goal 
 Of infinite progressions. All things own 
 His power, passive, impassive, conscious, or unknown. 
 
KEAR. ic, 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Thus the great problem of existences, 
 By Kear in years gone by, was solved for me. 
 When this conception once our minds can seize, - 
 Of infinite progressions, — then the key 
 We have of progress and philosophy. 
 But each idea of limits is a dream, 
 A myth, a phantom of a mystery. 
 Of infinites degrees all finites seem, — 
 Circles in circles, links in endless chains we deem. 
 
CANTO SECOND. 
 
 One morning aged Tamaned awoke 
 From troubled dreams and restless, fevered sleep, 
 And with uplifted face did thus invoke 
 The Spirit of the skies : *' Great Oki, keep 
 My breath. Pauguk is near, and o'er me creep 
 Chill shadows. Oh ! make known the medicine 
 That heals our sin and grief; the counsels deep 
 Of our traditions teach, and each design 
 Unfold, that in thy glory may my spirit shine. 
 20 
 
REAR. 
 
 IT. 
 
 Fasting, that day he spent in prayer within 
 His wigwam ; and in melancholy mood, 
 As one in penitence for some great sin, 
 When darkness came he sought the solitude 
 Of a deep valley in the lonely wood 
 On the lake-shore, to gaze into the face 
 Unveiled, starlit, of Oki's soul, and brood 
 Alone on life and death, on time and space; 
 But heard no spirit voices whispering words of peace. 
 
 iir. 
 
 Behind Poemotunck's hills where life begun, 
 Quickly the crescent moon its brightness hides. 
 " Thus quickly," mused the chief, '' our race is run ; 
 Thus fade our camp-fires. As the river glides 
 Past swiftly, bearing on its ceaseless tides 
 The withered autumn leaves, once fresh and green, 
 So death sweeps us away, and naught besides 
 Our voiceless dust and grass-grown graves is seen, — 
 Glory and life become as if they ne'er had been. 
 
KEAR. 
 
 IV. 
 
 *^And O Ponemah, the Hereafter, where, 
 Tradition says, our life begins and ends ; 
 That for the brave great Oki doth prepare 
 Homes in the sun, and ever there defends 
 Them from all evil spirits; thither sends 
 The spirits of the birds to sing all day 
 Around their wigwams, and restores the friends 
 That death's o'erflowing torrents swept away, — 
 Art thou a dream? And do we vainly hope and pray? 
 
 v. 
 
 *' And if there be a world unseen, I fear 
 The Happy Hunting-Grounds are not for me. 
 Must I forever know that they are near. 
 And yet forbid their sunny vales to see ? 
 Never from spirit wounds or dangers free ? 
 What meant the serpent's hiss and flaming eye. 
 When in my dreams I vainly seemed to flee, 
 And seek to cross, as other braves who die. 
 Its slippery, slimy body, stretched from earth to sky? 
 
KEAR. 23 
 
 VI. 
 
 '^ And whence that voice, so sweet, yet comfortless, 
 As of a passing spirit on the wing? 
 That whispered '■ Oki pities thy distress, 
 And would thy spirit to his wigwam bring. 
 Where it is always sunshine, always spring ; 
 Where through green forests thou may'st ever roam. 
 Or rest in peace by fountains murmuring ; 
 But only those who solve life's problem come — 
 The spirits truly wise and brave — unto this home.' " 
 
 VII. 
 
 While thus the chieftain muses, in the vale 
 The mingling streams low lamentations make. 
 Blending their voices with the distant wail 
 Of Wawonaissa wafted o'er the lake. 
 The light waves, too, with ceaseless sobbings break 
 Upon the lonely shore, while breezes sigh 
 Among the leaves, and low, sad whisperings wake, — 
 Voices it seemed of evil augury, 
 As of a multitude of spirits passing by. 
 
24 
 
 KEAR. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 And he, called the Strong-hearted, wept ; yet fear 
 Could never enter heart so strong and brave. 
 Not Pauguk's spirit that he deemed near, 
 Nor contemplations of a voiceless grave, 
 Could aught of terror for the chieftain have. 
 As noble natures will, so he bewailed 
 A life misspent. His earthly glory gave 
 No trust in the Hereafter, nor'availed 
 To crown with peace his life, which now he deemed 
 had failed. 
 
 IX. 
 
 Had failed ? God pity that impassioned soul 
 Who, in the consciousness these words express. 
 His life misspent, hath reached his earthly goal ! 
 When for his follies there seems no redress j 
 And e'en the triumphs others count success, 
 Whether of peace or war, of church or state, 
 Though crowned with fame and riches, cease to 
 
 bless j 
 For briefly these such spirits can elate, 
 And none in earthly fountains heavenly thirstings sate. 
 
KEAR. 25 
 
 But count no soul as lost who still can feel 
 Within his throbbing breast the faintest thrill 
 Of truths and aspirations that reveal 
 The Spirit's conscious strivings ; for until 
 We lose the power, and cease to work and will 
 The will of God, revealed in law and love, 
 All things are possible to us, and still 
 We have the promises of things above ; 
 May ever hope and strive till life victorious prove. 
 
 XI. 
 
 " Not here," said Kear, ^' nor in the long Hereafter, 
 Oki forbids one who would live to live ; 
 Nor keeps a suffering soul from joy and laughter. 
 All that one will accept doth Oki give j 
 And each who will can e'er his life retrieve; 
 For law and love are one, and though we die. 
 We yet may live, if we his truth receive. 
 Souls sink or rise alike eternally. 
 For depths below are deep as heaven is high."^ 
 
 3 
 
26 REAR. 
 
 XII. 
 
 And when I queried, *^ How can law and love 
 Be one?" he said, ^' Law is God's love expressed, 
 And like all good comes down from heaven above. 
 In it are strength and health, are peace and rest. 
 'Tis justice, mercy, life; but if transgressed, 
 We lose the power it gives. By it we live ; 
 Without it die. No spirit can be blessed 
 But in the law. By it doth God forgive, — 
 Of sin, obedience is the sole alternative. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 ''By law what we call miracles are wrought, — 
 Even life from death, and righteousness from sin ; 
 Health from disease, order from chaos brought. 
 By this alone, by labors wrought therein. 
 Through faith in God, courage, and discipline. 
 Are lasting happiness and glory won. 
 Of every ill a healing medicine. 
 It comes from God as light springs from the sun,— 
 Of wisdom, virtue, truth, the sole criterion. 
 
KEAR. 27 
 
 XIV. 
 
 " He who fulfils the law, with God is one, 
 And all God's power is able to command. 
 He is his Word, his Priest, his Heir, his Son, 
 And crowned with glory shall forever stand, 
 The Way, the Truth, the Life, at God's right hand ; 
 A man, but God, for God is man in kind, — 
 The sum of all intelligences, and 
 Of infinite progressions j is defined 
 Of men the Man, of words the Word, of minds the 
 Mind." 
 
 XV. 
 
 Footsteps upon the shore the chieftain hears ! 
 And quick withdraws to deeper shadows nigh ; 
 And soon a man dimly discerned appears, — 
 Now stopping, now approaching leisurely. 
 Until his form, outlined on lake and sky, — 
 Slender, of middle height, of modest mien ; 
 Of natural, unconscious dignity j 
 Of supple strength and languid grace, — is seen. 
 'Twas Nepanet, who long his messenger had been. 
 
28 REAR, 
 
 XVI. 
 
 He seemed engaged in strange soliloquies, 
 Or rather talks with Nature's spirit there. 
 Now he inquires, and now he makes replies ; 
 Now listens long to voices in the air ; 
 Now seems of unseen presences aware, — 
 Of solemn whisperings in his inmost soul, — 
 Bowing his face as one in silent prayer ; 
 Then through his breast a seeming rapture stole, 
 At which he leaped and laughed in joy beyond control. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 Sometimes he talked to God as to a friend. 
 Without reserve and confidentially. 
 Of what he knew or did not comprehend, 
 Of what he sought and what he hoped to be, — 
 A prophet without guile or vanity ; 
 Sometimes to whispering wave or rustling leaf. 
 With Wawonaissa's plaint in sympathy. 
 Of yearnings passionate, a hopeless grief, — 
 His love despised, from which he vainly sought relief. 
 
KEAR. 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 29 
 
 Amazed the chieftain listened. He had deemed 
 His messenger a youth of little worth j 
 And though swift-footed, brave, discreet, he seemed 
 Devoid of inspirations that bring forth 
 Heroic deeds. Only in games of mirth, 
 Sometimes the chase, or works effeminate, 
 Would he engage. A jossakeed by birth. 
 His father's arts he did not cultivate; 
 Nor did the warrior's deeds of fame his soul elate. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 At other times no doubt the chief had smiled 
 At what he deemed weak eccentricities ; 
 For men in all conditions are beguiled. 
 As we, by artful ways, and deem as wise 
 The vanities that serve but to disguise 
 The truthful spirit Nature's Soul inspires, — 
 And which are counted proper dignities ; 
 But in whose chains perish our best desires. 
 Religion languisheth, and genius soon expires. 
 
 3* 
 
30 
 
 KEAR. 
 
 XX. 
 
 But now, when Nepanet has gone, a light 
 Seems dawning slowly on his darkened mind ; 
 Faintly discerned, but which reveals to sight, 
 Dimly, as yet in shadowy forms outlined. 
 The truths to which he had before been blind, - 
 That God is found but in simplicity, 
 In faith and trust that leave all doubts behind j 
 That worldly glories with the body die. 
 And exaltation comes but of humility. 
 
 XXI. 
 
 'Tis artifice, 'tis things unnatural. 
 The letters lacking spirit, that destroy 
 The spirit of all truth ; and which enthrall 
 Society, religion, and alloy 
 And poison all the fountains of our joy. 
 The church of Christ, once free and catholic, 
 Simple and natural, is now the toy 
 Of fashion, or of dogmatist the freak. 
 Who counts all who deny his creed as heretic. 
 
KEAR, 
 
 XXII. 
 
 31 
 
 But God forbid that I should be betrayed 
 Into a morbid, vain misanthropy, — 
 I whose chief glory is that I was made 
 A minister of Him who died for me; 
 Who would unfold the true philosophy 
 As taught by nature's prophet, priest, and seer; 
 Alike regardless of the sophistry 
 Of worldly wise who all religion jeer, 
 Or dogmatist's conceit, or pious bigot's sneer. 
 
PRELUDE TO CANTO THIRD. 
 
 DREAMS. 
 
 Man is a spirit and an animal, 
 Each separate, complete, a trinity 
 Of natures. And the same is true of all 
 Organic forms — even of worlds. Each tree, 
 Insect, and bird hath an affinity, — 
 A corresponding spirit that doth give 
 And have a light therewith in harmony. 
 Hence all organic forms are sensitive. 
 Are conscious in degree, and double lives do live, 
 32 
 
KEAR. 33 
 
 II. 
 
 And all dream dreams,— some fanciful, some real. 
 Man's always are prophetic,— the expression 
 Of that which will or may be,— the ideal 
 Created by his hopes, or the confession 
 Of secret fears ; and often from possession 
 Of good or evil spirits spring, who through 
 His truth or falsehood gain accession 
 To soul and body, either to renew 
 Or torture, — angel guides or phantoms to pursue. 
 
 III. 
 
 If fancy, yet are always true in this. 
 That they reveal conditions of the mind 
 Or body, — states of suffering or bliss ; 
 For as our state so shall we ever find 
 Our fancies,— mostly good and bad combined. 
 A dream, like all things else, must be evolved 
 From precedent conditions, which, defined 
 Thereby, are always found involved 
 With living things ; and into these may be resolved- 
 
34 KEAR. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Disease or putrefaction into worms ; 
 Sins into serpents. Evil thoughts or deeds 
 Become transfigured into living forms, — 
 Demons or reptiles. Thus each evil breeds 
 Its corresponding spirit ; and each feeds 
 Its nurslings on its own corrupted life. 
 But as from evil evil, so proceeds 
 From good each impulse that arouses — rife 
 With inspirations of true glory — nobler strife. 
 
 v. 
 
 If real, dreams are what our spirits see, 
 Remote or near, transpiring ; for in sleep 
 The spirit, conscious still, may wander free. 
 Such dreams cannot occur in slumbers deep, 
 But only when, half waking, there do creep 
 Impressions on our minds exterior 
 Of inward contemplations. These we keep 
 In outward memory when waking; for 
 They come as those which in our outward life occur. 
 
KEAR. 35 
 
 VI. 
 
 "Being twofold, our memories are twain, — 
 The spirit's and the animal's," — said Kear; 
 *' And each alone impressions can retain 
 Derived from what occurs in its own sphere. 
 In waking hours the spirit acteth here, 
 The animal subjected to its will ; 
 And then its joy and pain, its hope and fear. 
 Its thought and life, are outward ; and until 
 The body dies doth here its purposes fulfil. 
 
 VII. 
 
 "Our loss of consciousness in sleep is but 
 In seeming ; for the soul's activities 
 Continue, though in slumbers they are shut 
 Out from the body, in which memory lies 
 Dormant, impressionless, as then the eyes 
 And mind of flesh, — each but an instrument 
 Of fleshly sense until the body dies. 
 This memory, therefore, cannot represent 
 In sleep the soul's emotions, doings, or intent.' 
 
36 KEAR. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 I asked Kear why man was created twain? 
 And how? and he replied: '' No beings are 
 Created. All are born and grown, — attain 
 Their spheres by evolutions. All things bear 
 Their kind, — even our thoughts. Spirits prepare 
 Their own surroundings, worlds, and states, 
 Bodies, affinities, and homes, and share 
 With their own kind its loves and hates, 
 Its promises and fears, its punishments and fates. 
 
 IX. 
 
 "As isolation is impossible. 
 
 Each has its contacts, and through these come all 
 Sensations. Each is a receptacle, 
 A home and habitation natural 
 Of that which of itself is typical 
 Or similar in nature. Perfect touch 
 Between two things makes them identical 
 In form and nature, — both as one. And. such 
 Are soul and body, though in substance differing much. 
 
KEAR. 
 
 X. 
 
 37 
 
 ''Souls pre-exist, and in variety 
 Are infinite. Tlie first man is begun 
 An animal, with which, through harmony 
 Therewith in nature made in life as one, 
 Is joined another spirit ; whence is grown 
 A second man, to whom, if he hath striven 
 To know the truth, though in corruption sown. 
 Through faith in what is right, the power is given 
 To put on incorruption and ascend to heaven. 
 
 XI. 
 
 "All growth is through some correspondence. For 
 Each germ, since souls in kind are infinite. 
 There is a spirit, — one that must concur 
 Therewith in life through harmony, — unite 
 In form and nature ; and, though opposite 
 In substance, yet doth correspond thereto 
 In character, and with it must be knit. 
 Thus germs conceive, and thus are caused to grow. 
 And more and more a secret life and spirit show. 
 
 4 
 
38 KEAR. 
 
 XII. 
 
 ''The nature of a thing its spirit is, 
 And gives it form, expression, character. 
 Two corresponding worlds there are to this 
 In which we Hve, which good and evil here 
 Do represent. And these are very near. 
 In partial contact, though invisible. 
 So when we die our spirits will appear 
 Unto themselves in the same world to dwell ; 
 And yet have been translated to a heaven or hell.' 
 
 XIII. 
 
 I asked him how first germs originate ? 
 "They neither do," he said, " nor did begin. 
 Though changing ever with their changing state. 
 Men, animals, and plants do differ in 
 Degree of growth alone ; hence man through sin 
 May be degraded to a brute, or rise 
 Through increased correspondence till he win — 
 Made one with God — an entrance to the skies; 
 Wherein, the law fulfilled, the body never dies." 
 
CANTO THIRD. 
 
 Quick as an oriole glancing on the wing, 
 When Tamaned returned, his daughter sprung 
 To meet him, and — a moment faltering. 
 As conscious that some shadow o'er him hung- 
 Around his neck her amber arms she flung. 
 And when he bent to hers his sorrowing face, 
 Speechless, she saw his grief, and clung 
 With tears and kisses to his long embrace. 
 But human sympathies cannot such grief efface. 
 
 39 
 
40 KEAR. 
 
 At last he led her to his wigwam door, 
 And bringing there the pictured mat that she 
 Had worked for him, he spread it o'er 
 The threshold. '' Sit thou here, daughter," said he ; 
 " No more in shadows will I hide from thee 
 My spirit wounds. Since Pauguk bore away 
 Thy mother, Light of Noon, sweet Seetsebe, 
 Thou hast to me been as the light of day, — 
 The Crystal Stone in whom thy mother's soul I see. 
 
 III. 
 
 '^ Why Oki took her spirit I knew not. 
 But thought the more for glory I should strive, 
 That I the sorrow from my heart might blot. 
 And crowned therewith I might at last arrive 
 Where she had gone, and there again revive 
 The blissful love that here had been so brief. 
 For I was taught that Oki doth deprive 
 Us of our joys that we may find relief 
 From spirit wounds in fame, and hide therein our 
 grief. 
 
KEAR. 
 
 IV. 
 
 41 
 
 '*How well I strove thou knowest, for thy life 
 Hath grown in years and beauty with my name. 
 Thy infant ears first caught the sound of strife 
 From winds that rocked thy cradle, and which came 
 From fields of blood where first I strove for fame. 
 But all my glories, all my victories won, 
 Have brought me only shadows, grief, and shame. 
 I slew Oneida's chief, the Heart of Stone ; 
 And he who now would wed my daughter is his son !" 
 
 V. 
 
 Up sprung Eniskin as a frightened fawn 
 That hears approach the gray wolf's stealthy tread. 
 Trembling she stood, and, as the sky at dawn 
 Of lurid day, her face ablaze, she said : 
 •' Is this thy shame ? that thou wouldst have me wed 
 Oneida's chief ? That thou didst slay his sire. 
 The Heart of Stone, the cruel chief who shed 
 Thy brother's blood, and tribute did require. 
 Must I be given to soothe the son's avenging ire?" 
 . 4* 
 
42 
 
 KEAR, 
 
 VI. 
 
 The chieftain's heart exulted, and his breast 
 Thrilled with the fiery rapture of the past. 
 But for the time his purpose he repressed, 
 And to the ground in seeming sorrow cast 
 His eyes. Sadly he spoke : '' Daughter, at last 
 The shadow of my grief, which, dark as night. 
 Broods o'er me, touches thee, and as the blast 
 Of Wabun's icy breath, whose touch doth blight 
 The tender bud of spring-time, doth thy spirit smite. 
 
 VII. 
 
 ''But fear not, nor account my shame as this, 
 That I would tribute of my daughter give 
 To purchase peace or life. The thought dismiss. 
 No lips shall e'er touch thine while I yet live 
 Thou canst not love ; and no alternative 
 But death for thee or me I e'er shall seek 
 Of baseness. Honor shall at least survive, 
 Though glory perish. Listen while I speak, 
 Nor deem my heart be melted, nor my spirit weak. 
 
REAR. 43 
 
 VIH. 
 
 ^^For know thou must my spirit's wounds; and thy 
 Soft hand shall pluck therefrom the arrows, and 
 With tender touch the medicine apply. 
 My glory is departing, for I stand 
 Alone of all our chiefs to guard the land. 
 The fierce Oneida threatens on the north. 
 But may grant peace for tribute of thy hand ; 
 And from the rising sun a race comes forth 
 To drive us from our homes, our heritage by birth. 
 
 IX. 
 
 ''Vain, therefore, is that glory that I thought- 
 Would give me entrance to the blest abode 
 Where she I love hath gone, — the glory sought 
 In misspent years of conquest, strife, and blood. 
 The freedom, too, is vain from tribute owed 
 The Heart of Stone, for which so many died ; 
 For soon may come upon us as a flood 
 Oneida's braves with many tribes allied. 
 When we must flee or die, except thou be his bride. 
 
44 
 
 REAR. 
 
 X. 
 
 *'Our sachems on the shore of the Great Sea 
 Will now no more contend, and e'en would sell 
 Unto the Pale-face land and liberty ; 
 And we alone, who on the mountains dwell, 
 Are left Oneida's fury to repel. 
 Yet e'en a greater grief afflicts my heart. 
 And which to thee I scarcely dare to tell, — 
 From thee, sweet daughter, Oki bids me part ; 
 And soon my spirit must on its long journey start. 
 
 XI. 
 
 "Ten summers since, when I came here to dwell 
 On lands reconquered in the bloody strife 
 In which Oneida's chief was slain, there fell 
 A dark, mysterious shadow on my life. 
 One morning, when I woke from slumbers rife 
 With dreams of glory, lo ! his scalp was gone. 
 My scalp-lock, too, dissevered with his knife, 
 Was stolen ; but by whom the deed was done — 
 By enemy, or friend, or Jeebi — ne'er was known. 
 
KEAR. 
 
 XII. 
 
 45 
 
 '' Though on a couch of leaves beside me, wrapt 
 In robes of snowy fur, my child was sleeping, — 
 Eight moons of leaves you'd seen, — no harm had 
 
 hapt 
 To thee I found, when round us had been creeping 
 The stealthy shadow. But you had been weeping ; 
 For tears, the first you'd shed, lay on your face. 
 And from your hand a rose-bud you were keeping. 
 When you lay down, was gone. Each year apace 
 Hath grown upon me since the shame of my disgrace^ 
 
 XIII. 
 
 '' And day by day the shadow on my soul 
 Hath deepened. What the substance was of that 
 Strange, stealthy presence which that night had stole 
 Into my wigwam, noiseless as a bat 
 Around us flitting, I knew not. My fate 
 I thought involved therein ; but its intent, 
 Of love or wrath, I could not penetrate; 
 Though now I deem it by great Oki sent, — 
 A warning of approaching death and punishment. 
 
46 KEAR. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 *' Nor is this all, nor yet the worst. Last night 
 A vision came in troubled sleep to show 
 Me that my glories are in Oki's sight 
 But war-paint on my face, or as the glow 
 Of fireflies' wings, or sunset clouds that throw 
 A fading lustre on our darkening day ; 
 And that on those alone he doth bestow 
 The Happy Hunting-Grounds, who learn the way 
 To read traditions rightly, and his will obey. 
 
 XV. 
 
 ''This was my dream : Pauguk appeared, and then 
 Darkness came o'er me as I felt the clutch 
 Of icy fingers at my throat ; and when 
 
 . My breathings ceased, and I was dead, — for such 
 I seemed, though conscious still, — I felt the touch 
 As of a chilly breath upon my brow. 
 Then slowly dawning light appeared, and much, 
 When objects rose to view, I marvelled how 
 
 Ponemah should appear as this world seemeth now. 
 
KEAR. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 47 
 
 " For I could see, as through a murky mist, 
 Forest and stream familiar to my eyes. 
 That world seemed just like this, — except I missed 
 The works of living men. To my surprise 
 This sunny vale in which our garden lies 
 Was all o'ergrown with briers as of yore, 
 When first I built my wigwam here. The skies 
 Were starless and of sombre hue ; but o'er 
 Poemotunck shone a light I ne'er had seen before, — 
 
 XVII. 
 
 ** A setting sun scarce larger than a star, 
 
 That shone through chilly mists with flickering 
 
 light. 
 As camp-fire in the forest seen afar ; 
 And when at last it slowly sunk from sight 
 Behind Poemotunck's wooded crests, a night 
 Came on, damp, rayless, pitiless, — so dark 
 All shadows were effaced. In cold affright 
 Shivering, I groped around, but found no mark 
 To guide my steps, — no path, no gleam of glow-worm's 
 spark. 
 
48 
 
 KEAR. 
 
 XVIIT. 
 
 *'I heard in an impenetrable gloom 
 Shrieks, groanings, mutterings, as if like mine 
 Spirits innumerable bewailed their doom. 
 Some in low lamentations did repine ; 
 Some wailed as if in horrid discipline 
 Of torture. Long my terrors to restrain 
 I strove, but sunk at last o'ercome, supine 
 On the cold earth. Long hoping, but in vain, 
 For light, I prayed for death, but could not die again. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 ^'The seeming tortures of that hideous night 
 I cannot picture. Writhing on the ground 
 In agony I lay. Beasts hid from sight 
 Snapped at my body. Vultures standing round 
 Pecked at my sightless eyes. I heard the sound 
 Of croaking reptiles, — felt their clammy feet 
 Upon my shrinking flesh, while serpents bound 
 My limbs in slimy folds. Fiends to complete 
 My tortures did my groans with hideous mocking^ 
 greet. 
 
KEAR, 49 
 
 XX. 
 
 " O daughter, though a dream, full well I know 
 This vision pictured truthfully the state 
 Of souls by sins diseased, and did foreshow 
 The end of earthly pride. Thus terminate 
 Our deeds of fame and glory that elate 
 Our selfish souls with momentary joys. 
 Such horrors, darkness, agonies await 
 All who are lured to follow these decoys 
 Of vanity the Evil Manito employs. 
 
 XXI. 
 
 '^ But think not I have ceased to hope ; for still 
 I live ; and though my strength be gone, and few 
 My days remaining, I may learn the will 
 Of Oki, and my wasted life renew; 
 So that when finally I bid adieu 
 To earth, in real glory I may come 
 Unto a world of light. If what is true 
 I learn to love, Oki will take me home. 
 Where neither cares nor griefs are known, nor night, 
 nor gloom. 
 
 5 
 
^o KEAR. 
 
 XXII. 
 
 " For Oki doth not count me lost I ween ; 
 For light appeared at last. A star arose, 
 Passing from east to west, of silvery sheen, — 
 A guiding star which did a path disclose 
 Bright gleaming as a moon-lit stream that flows 
 Through a dark wilderness ; a path that led 
 Up to Poemotunck's loftiest peak, where glows 
 The light of setting suns. ' Great Tamaned, 
 Arise, follow the star,' some unseen spirit said. 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 '* At first I thought my gentle Seetsebe 
 Had come upon this path of light, so sweet 
 That spirit voice. Thrilled with such ecstasy 
 As one alone can feel who springs to greet 
 The loved and lost he thought no more to meet, — 
 Escaped from night and tortures endless deemed,— 
 I burst my serpent bonds, and to my feet 
 I leaped. That momentary joy, though drfeamed, 
 Than my first glory won a greater rapture seemed. 
 
KEAR. 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 51 
 
 "But it was vain, I was alone, — except 
 Perhaps some unseen presence lingering near, 
 Or shadowy reptile forms that slowly crept 
 Off into darkness. Yet my way seemed clear 
 Up to the skies ; and as a hunted deer 
 I wildly on that starlit pathway fled. 
 But now fresh terrors rise, for lo ! appear 
 Pursuing fast the phantoms of the dead, — 
 Spirits of those whose blood I had in battle shed, 
 
 XXV. 
 
 ''Never in waking hours had I e'er quailed 
 Before my foes ; but then when glancing back 
 I saw this phantom host, my courage failed. 
 Frantic with fear I fled, while on my track. 
 With savage yells, jeers, howls demoniac, 
 It followed eagerly, and soon my path 
 Beset, — all thronging round me as a pack 
 Of hungry wolves. Alas ! such end in wrath 
 And fear the way of strife and blood-bought glory hath. 
 
5 2 KEAR. 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 ^' As one who runs a gauntlet of his foes 
 I fled ; but finally, wearied with jeers 
 And cruel mockings, staggering 'neath the blows 
 Of war-clubs and the thrusts of poisoned spears, 
 As wounded bison savagely from fears 
 And flight I turned to bay ; and lo ! there stood 
 The Heart of Stone, with scowls and horrid leers. 
 Confronting me, — his face streaked with the blood 
 That, when I took his scalp, did from his skull exude. 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 ''But when he saw me fiercely turned to bay. 
 Confronting him as in the past, the ghost, 
 With terror stricken, shrieking fled away 
 Into the forest till in shadows lost ; 
 And with him vanished all the phantom host. 
 With equal terror stricken, I too turned 
 To flee again, and found myself almost 
 Unto the mountain-side, where I discerned 
 A flowing stream, for which my thirsting spirit burned. 
 
J^EAR. 53 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 '' Onward I pressed, while brighter gleamed the star, 
 To reach the mount. I saw a multitude 
 Of spirits wearily reclining there 
 Beside the flowing stream ; who, when they viewed 
 Me coming, as with sudden fear imbued, 
 Drew back ; and I could hear them whisper : ' See 
 Approach some mighty chief with blood imbrued, — 
 'Tis Tamaned, the Lenni-Lenape !' 
 And panic-stricken at my name, all fled from me. 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 ''The stream flowed from the mountain-side into 
 A pebbly basin. Eagerly to taste 
 The brimming flood, burning with thirst I threw 
 Me down ; but ere my parched lips I placed 
 To the cool waters, back I sprung in haste, 
 Aghast at my own image ! for therein 
 I saw my spirit as it was, — defaced, 
 Defiled, distorted, hideous through sin 
 And vanities that once my joy and boast had been. 
 5* 
 
54 
 
 REAR. 
 
 XXX. 
 
 "Just as I had been buried, painted, plumed, 
 Armed and arrayed for war, as oft before, 
 I saw myself, — ghastly as if exhumed 
 With all the foulness of decay. Worms o'er 
 My painted face had crept. Each scalp I bore 
 Suspended from my belt did seem a braid 
 Of writhing snakes. The mantle that I wore — 
 The one on which my deeds I have portrayed — 
 Appeared defaced with blood, moth-eaten and decayed. 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 "I charge thee, daughter, when I die let not 
 My chiefs and warriors bury me thus drest. 
 For glories perish as their trophies rot ; 
 And thus arrayed no soul can ever rest 
 In peace, or reach the wigwams of the blest. 
 I soon shall burn each symbol of my fame, — 
 My robe and belt on which I have expressed 
 My boastings vain; also my chiefest shame, — 
 The gory scalp-locks which my deeds of blood pro- 
 claim. 
 
KEAR. 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 55 
 
 ''Yet mirrored in the waters pebble-urned 
 I saw the star, in which, though it revealed 
 My soul's deformity, a spirit burned, 
 Conscious, o'erflowing with a light that healed 
 My wounds, and all my sin and shame concealed ; 
 For in the rippling waters multiplied. 
 It seemed to spread into a starry shield. 
 And then into a plume and robe divide, 
 When I appeared transformed, — a spirit glorified. 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 "A momentary gleaming meant to show. 
 Not what I was, but what I might have been, 
 Or may be still, should I e'er come to know 
 The teachings of tradition, and begin 
 My life anew. There was a glory in 
 The star, — a hidden mystery, which could 
 I solve, I should not fail again to win 
 An entrance to the skies ; nor longer would 
 The spirit of my love, long lost, my arms elude. 
 
56 KEAR. 
 
 XXXIV. 
 
 ''Next I remember standing on the height. 
 
 Before me yawned a gulf impassable, 
 
 Whose depths in darkness were concealed from 
 
 sight,— 
 And bottomless I ween ; for when there fell 
 Therein a soul accurst, I could not tell 
 From any echoings returned his fate; 
 But fainter grew his shrieks till in that hell 
 Of darkness lost. This gulf doth separate 
 The world of sin and darkness from the blissful state — 
 
 XXXV. 
 
 ''The Happy Hunting-Grounds which I beheld, 
 Countless as stars, upon the sky unrolled ; 
 Illumined by a brightness that excelled 
 The morning's dawn, — in colors manifold 
 As rainbow-tinted clouds ; a shining wold, — 
 Plains, mountains, which seemed floating as green 
 
 isles 
 On boundless seas of light. There we are told 
 In our traditions some fresh joy beguiles 
 Each hour, the sun ne'er sets, and endless summer 
 
 smiles. 
 
REAR. 57 
 
 XXXVI. 
 
 ''The starlit path of souls, the Milky Way — 
 The same I had been following — appeared 
 Strangely transformed. A writhing serpent lay 
 Across the mighty gulf, which, when I neared. 
 With flaming eyes and jaws wide open, reared 
 Its head and hissed at me menacingly. 
 Some it allowed to pass, and then I feared 
 The more the writhing, slimy path to try; 
 For many slipped and fell with shrieks of agony. 
 
 XXXVII. 
 
 " In my distress I thought thou cam'st to me. 
 And quick, the serpent to appease, didst cast 
 Thyself into its jaws, when instantly — 
 For I seemed paralyzed, and stood aghast, 
 Powerless to save — my messenger sprang past. 
 And caught your hands outstretched most lovingly 
 To him. But still the serpent held you fast, 
 Yet seemed to change, as I in agony 
 Awoke, into a starry pathway to the sky." 
 
PRELUDE TO CANTO FOURTH. 
 
 THE ORDER OF MELCHIZEDEK. 
 
 As men and animals are of one kind, 
 So also men and angels. Hence a soul 
 That dwelleth here with fleshly body joined 
 May have come up or down ; for of one whole 
 A part is every world or state, — a goal 
 Of progress from below, and yet a hell 
 Of degradation from above, — a dole 
 Or joy by contrast. With our own may dwell 
 Spirits once beasts, or angels who from glory fell. 
 58 
 
KEAR. 
 
 II. 
 
 59 
 
 And yet a human germ may be so pure 
 That God's Word personal be joined thereto; 
 And when developed be the portraiture, 
 Though human still, of God's own soul, and show 
 The perfect wisdom, love, and life that flow 
 From heavenly fountains; may command the power 
 Of God, and by a touch the life renew 
 Of dying souls. And such was Jesus, our 
 Redeemer, — one with God, and yet than man no more. 
 
 III. 
 
 He is our God ; for he who of our kind 
 Is greatest is our God, nor can we see 
 Nor know another, for no man can find 
 Out God. There is an All, but canno't be 
 An end or limit of infinity. 
 Apart from God in man, God is a mere 
 Abstraction as a personality ; 
 For he is All, and so cannot appear 
 To us, nor comprehended be, remote nor near. 
 
6o KEAR. 
 
 IV. 
 
 And if God were simply the highest grade 
 Of being, and not All, then he 
 Would be the end of being, — would be made 
 With limits, — an impossibility ; 
 For end implies a limit. There must be 
 Something beyond. The first and last is God, — 
 That is, the whole. Of each, in its degree. 
 Existing spirit is he the abode, — 
 So far as wisdom, love, order, and truth are showed. 
 
 Jesus fulfilled the law in love ; that is, 
 He showed how law and love are one, and give 
 Enduring life. He is the Word ; for his 
 Humanity expressed all truths that live 
 In God. He is our Saviour, — could forgive 
 All sin, because by his self-sacrifice 
 He taught the charity that doth revive 
 In sinful breasts all noble sympathies. 
 And e'en the life of dying souls immortalize. 
 
KPIAR. 6 1 
 
 VI. 
 
 lie is the Perfect Man ; by which we mean 
 That all the truths of God — of All in One — 
 Harmonious, were in his nature seen, 
 As in a single ray of light the sun 
 In fulness is revealed. In him alone, 
 The only perfect man of all our race. 
 The perfect God in fulness is made known. 
 In him through all his teachings we may trace 
 The Conscious Deity, and meet God face to face. 
 
 VII. 
 
 He is the Son of Man, — born of the flesh, 
 Allied in life to a pure human germ ; 
 Existing previously, yet born afresh 
 Into this world, that with our souls infirm, 
 Suffering, and sinful, he might pass the term 
 Of our allotted life. Born into earth. 
 That all who will their lives to his conform, 
 Partaking of his spirit, bringing forth 
 His works, may with his soul attain a heavenly birth. 
 
 6 
 
62 KEAR. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 He is the Son of God,-^of sons the Son ; 
 Only-begotten, for the first-born soul, 
 In whom Existence' Self in full is shown. 
 In him, the first and last, is found the goal 
 Of human progress. Of all truth the full 
 Expression ; of all virtues cardinal — 
 Faith, patience, hope, and charity — the whole 
 Our only God revealed as personal, 
 And from eternity begotten of the All. 
 
 IX. 
 
 He is our Mediator, — one with God, 
 And one with man ; for coming from above. 
 He hath with us the path of suffering trod, 
 That we through him might know the Father's love 
 Which doth all sorrow, sin, and death remove. 
 The more we learn to love the less we die. 
 For love atones for sin. Hence Jesus strove, 
 Made perfect through his sufferings, that we 
 Should conquer sin, and death, and hell, through 
 charity. 
 
KEAR. 63 
 
 His is the spirit of self-sacrifice, 
 Whereby forgetting self, seeking to save 
 The lost, we gain the All. No soul can rise 
 But by this spirit. Each is but the slave 
 Of sin and self, and diggeth his own grave. 
 Who doth not give as he receives \ for none 
 Can live unto himself. But if we crave 
 The good of all, in love our life begun, 
 In love it lives and grows till we and God are one. 
 
 XI. 
 
 ''But Kear," said I, "explain this mystery, — 
 How doth a soul for wrong obtain redress, 
 Who by that wrong doth suffer till he die ?" 
 "Through charity," said he. "Each wrong wil 
 
 bless 
 The injured one \ each suffering, too, unless 
 Evil for evil he returns through pride, 
 And thus in his own wrong should acquiesce. 
 Each sinful soul must be by suffering tried 
 Ere it can rest in peace, and in God's love abide." 
 
CANTO FOURTH. 
 
 The spirit of self-sacrifice for good 
 In human breasts a Saviour's presence ever 
 Betokens. This is true whate'er our mood, 
 Joyous or sad, — when we unite or sever 
 The bonds of sympathy in our endeavor 
 To share distress or nobly to endure 
 A separation which we know can never 
 In this life end. Of love the spirit pure, 
 Through suffering it doth to perfect peace inure. 
 64 
 
REAR. 65 
 
 II. 
 
 Such was the spirit which that vision bright 
 Eniskin saw — the starry coronet — 
 Disclosed ; discerned but as a struggling light 
 In darkness dawning ; seen through tears, and yet 
 The mystic crown, the secret amulet 
 Of love divine, which in its heavenly sheen 
 Quencheth all evils which our paths beset ; 
 Begotten always of our griefs I ween. 
 As Oki's face, starlit, is but in darkness seen. 
 
 III. 
 
 Till now her life had been a blissful dream. 
 Her way a path of sunshine, beauty, song ; 
 Or as a sparkling, merry, mountain stream. 
 That like a child at play doth linger long 
 In sunny vales the birds and flowers among. 
 But suddenly her sky had darkened. Pride, 
 Which first her soul, unconscious of all wrong, — 
 Concealed, as poisons in sweet blossoms hide, — 
 Had filled with fear and doubt, had now with grief 
 allied. 
 
 6* 
 
66 KEAR. 
 
 IV. 
 
 A voice thrilled on her ear — '' Eniskin !" — low 
 And sweet, but firm and manly. Startled to 
 Self-consciousness, a deeper crimson glow 
 Her face suffusing, shyly she withdrew 
 The farther from the shore her light canoe, — 
 Which, as a humming-bird poised on the wing, 
 Obeyed an instant thought, — and then anew 
 Her wonted, playful mood recovering, 
 Returned, and lightly on the moonlit strand did spring. 
 
 V. 
 
 *' O Nepanet," she said, " my father seeks 
 
 Thee since the dawning. Where hast thou been 
 
 straying?" 
 And then with downcast eyes and glowing cheeks. 
 Her trembling voice her secret grief betraying. 
 She faltered and stood mute, although essaying 
 To utter what her pride would still conceal ; 
 Yearning for sympathy and yet delaying, — 
 For hopeless seems the love slje would reveal. 
 But which doth now the more for sympathy appeal. 
 
KEAR. 67 
 
 VI. 
 
 Alas ! there might have been on earth — but then 
 We do not know what is for us the best 
 Always j and often with the angels, when 
 Their arms are in the darkness round us pressed, 
 Wrestle till overcome, ere we are blessed — 
 On earth a blissful life, could Nepanet 
 But only then her sympathies have guessed, 
 Or in his wonted mood her shyness met ; 
 But he had come to meet and part, and then forget. 
 
 VII. 
 
 For deeming love with pride could ne'er prevail, 
 Himself unworthy also to possess, 
 He all that day in lone Ewayea's vale 
 Had wooed the spirit of forgetfulness, 
 Where streams with constant murmurings repress 
 The hopeless longings of the soul, until 
 O'ercome at last, forgetful of distress. 
 He bowed submissive to great Oki's will. 
 And felt the joy of sacrifice his bosom thrill. 
 
68 KEAR. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Oh ! there are souls who give but ne'er receive 
 Of love on earth as true and pure as heaven ; 
 Who earth's redemption, progress, hope achieve, - 
 Earth's prophecy and faith, of truth the leaven, 
 Incarnate here to mortal sufferings given ; 
 Ambitious, bound by earthly limitations ; 
 Impassioned, thirsting, yet have vainly striven. 
 Compelled to loveless lives and humble stations, 
 To satisfy on earth their heavenly aspirations. 
 
 IX. 
 
 Vainly indeed ! for truth and righteousness 
 
 Can brook nor fellowship nor compromise 
 
 With wrong and pride ; nor through the tears and 
 
 stress 
 Of other lives to earthly glory rise. 
 And wisely each distinction, honor, prize 
 Of earth is deemed but vanity and shame, 
 Attained through selfish pride, whate'er its guise, — 
 A seeming wisdom, patriotic flame. 
 Or e'en the sanctity of a religious name. 
 
KEAR. 69 
 
 No purer raptures e'er the soul of youth 
 Inspired than those our hero's bosom thrilled ; 
 Nor breast impassioned with the love of truth 
 Was e'er with loftier aspirations filled. 
 Not e'en in cultured life, so called, was chilled 
 Than his a nobler purpose ; but then we 
 Count nothing merit which we cannot gild 
 With gold ; and truth or love alike must be 
 With us a matter only of utility. 
 
 XI. 
 
 But though the root of evil had not grown 
 By culture with the Lenni-Lenapes, 
 Nor social crimes and vices e'er been known, 
 Nor arts refined in legal cruelties. 
 Whereby the few may dwell in slothful ease. 
 The masses struggling for their daily bread, — 
 Thus all enslaved by toil or luxuries, — 
 Yet with them war alone to honor led. 
 And Nepanet could not this path of glory tread. 
 
70 
 
 KEAR. 
 
 XII. 
 
 Hence no distinction counted as success 
 Could he attain, whereby with honest pride 
 He could demand, or even would possess, 
 The hand of one by birth nobly allied, 
 And who no merit could discern beside 
 The martial spirit of her noble sire, — 
 By counsel, courage, glory deified. 
 And yet a flame, a passionate desire, 
 A truly martial spirit did his soul inspire. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 What shall we say then? That Heaven's Soul begets 
 Such spirits here in wanton cruelty? 
 Imparts high purposes and then besets 
 Their lives with obstacles that cannot be 
 O'ercome? Passion divine, the ecstasy 
 Gf truth and love inspires but to defeat 
 Each aspiration, hope, and prophecy? 
 Presents ideals they can ne'er complete. 
 And hungerings incites with only husks to eat ? 
 
REAR. 71 
 
 XIV. 
 
 This would be true indeed, if on the cross 
 Perished the soul whose willing sacrifice 
 Of self, of all things here, whate'er the loss. 
 Revealed the path in which true glory lies j 
 Who taught that our simplicity is wise, 
 And human weakness with God's strength endued ; 
 That through humility alone we rise, 
 And every buffeting, however rude. 
 If borne with meekness, brings a sweet beatitude. 
 
 XV. 
 
 But Jesus lives and reigns the Prince of Life, — 
 Dead, crucified, yet living evermore, 
 Victorious in love, he rests from strife. 
 His buffetings, the crown of thorns he wore. 
 His agony and tears, the cross he bore, 
 Transfigured, each a glory hath become. 
 Thus every soul is more than conqueror 
 Who giveth love for hate, nor doth succumb 
 To wrong, nor fear, nor doubt, though suffering mar- 
 tyrdom. 
 
72 KEAR. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 True, Nepanet at this time had not heard 
 Of Christ,— of Perfect Man as God Supreme ; 
 Of perfect God incarnate in his Word, — 
 God's soul expressed in Man. And yet I deem 
 His inspiration the prophetic dream 
 Of God with man, — the lamp in moral wreck 
 And darkness seen, the guiding star, the gleam 
 Of heavenly light, the purpose naught can check, 
 The symbol of the order of Melchizedek. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 All great improvements come by prophecy ; 
 That is, exist at first only in thought, 
 Inspired through hope, ambition, sympathy; 
 And when in the imagination wrought, 
 Are then by toil and sacrifices brought 
 To light, — incarnate in our work and word. 
 So as our spirits are by spirits taught, 
 We may discern the presence of the Lord, 
 Though of his coming in the flesh we ne'er have heard. 
 
KEAR. 73 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 In boyhood, it was thought he'd been bereft 
 Of father, mother, kindred ; thrt not one 
 Of many friends and neighbors had been left 
 To mourn with him ; that once when he alone 
 Was wandering in the woods, had crept upon 
 The shore of Whispering Wave a stealthy band 
 Of painted warriors led by Heart of Stone ; 
 And when he had returned at night the land 
 Was still and desolate by tomahawk and brand. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 Five years thereafter, when the mighty chief, 
 Great Tamaned, had built his wigwam near. 
 The boy was found alone in sullen grief 
 Beside his kindred's graves. And often here 
 The chief had come and vainly sought to cheer 
 Him with the hope and promise that when he 
 Had grown to manhood and could wield the spear 
 And tomahawk, his wrongs at last should be 
 Effaced in the Oneida's blood, their enemy. 
 
 7 
 
74 
 
 KEAR. 
 
 XX. 
 
 Where a wild, dashing, mountain stream debouched 
 Upon a sunny agawam, a space 
 Of odorous meadow grasses, and that touched 
 The lake below, above the rocky base 
 Of darkly-wooded Agiocook — place 
 Of whispering spirits of the pines — he built 
 His solitary wigwam. Here his face 
 He veiled, on vengeance brooding ; nor had felt 
 Thereon the sunlight, lest his heart and purpose melt. 
 
 XXI. 
 
 Though but a child in years and stature, he 
 In gloomy meditations had grown old. 
 And in seclusion reached maturity 
 Of inward consciousness wherein we hold 
 Prophetic gifts, and hope and faith unfold 
 When once inspired in sinful souls on earth. 
 As when upon the storm-cloud is unrolled 
 The covenant of promise, so come forth 
 From darkness hope and faith, and struggle into birth. 
 
REAR. 75 
 
 XXII. 
 
 That God is pleased with sacrifices, made 
 With purpose to efface our grief or sin, 
 Men know instinctively, and yet degrade 
 This noble instinct, making it akin 
 To motives of revenge, and think to win 
 A lasting glory by the sacrifice 
 Of enemies, or even friends ; but in 
 Self-sacrifice alone for truth there lies 
 The path of glory and an entrance to the skies. 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 But to the sorrowing soul of Nepanet 
 
 The burning lamp, the fiery cloud that shines 
 
 In darkness, had not then appeared. As yet. 
 
 When he lay sleeping 'neath the whispering pines, 
 
 Visions, nor dreams, nor prophecies, nor signs 
 
 To him had come; nor still, small voice from 
 
 heaven, 
 That all in one God's promises combines. 
 And is of all true peace and joy the leaven, — 
 Whispering, "Forgive, and thou shalt also be for- 
 
 given.' 
 
76 
 
 REAR. 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 'The Delaware and Iroquois were then 
 At peace; but Tamaned, with vigilance 
 That never slumbered, by patrols of men 
 Still guarded his dominions, lest perchance 
 His ancient foe should treacherously advance 
 Upon him unprepared. Ah ! little deemed 
 He then that oft the burning eyes, whose glance 
 Betrayed a hatred that could ne'er have dreamed 
 Of mercy or forgiveness, had upon him gleamed. 
 
 XXV. 
 
 Yet oft, amid the branches that o'erhung 
 His dwelling, lurked by day a secret foe. 
 Concealed as stealthy panthers hide among 
 The leaves ; at night into the wigwam slow 
 And as a shadow creeping ; then would go 
 As silently, the gleaming of his eye 
 Subdued, but yet unquenched in blood, — his vow 
 Of vengeance unfulfilled. But finally 
 Departing with the scalp-lock of his enemy. 
 
KEAR. 77 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 In every life there comes a time when God 
 Reveals his way, — the starlit path that hence 
 From sin and shame each soul redeemed hath trod, — 
 Steps unto heaven, a way, a providence 
 Of good, a trial or temptation, whence 
 His promises come forth. And all who turn 
 Thereto, for every loss a recompense 
 Receive, — in darkness light and joy discern, 
 And even in infirmities to glory learn. 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 But ah ! how dark at first this way appears ! 
 Its light a single star, or bush of thorns 
 Burning, but not consumed. The voice one hears 
 From lips invisible, what most he scorns 
 Or dreads, doth bid him do ; what most adorns 
 His life in seeming bids to cast away ; 
 And only comforting to him who mourns. 
 And yet for all who will the voice obey. 
 The light, however dim, grows into perfect day. 
 7* 
 
78 KEAR. 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 Up from the lake stirred by the morning breeze — 
 The morning after Tamaned's disgrace — 
 A ray of light reflected 'neath the trees 
 Whose branches round his wigwam interlace, 
 Bright glinting, shines into the troubled face 
 Of Nepanet. Upstarting from his sleep. 
 Sensations, new and sweet, of joy and peace, 
 A moment thrill his breast. But soon there creep 
 Therein shame, bitterness, and shadows dark and deep. 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 With scowling face he quickly turned away, 
 And with a scornful gesture put aside 
 Impatiently the merry sunbeam. '' Nay, 
 Thou silver-winged messenger," he cried, 
 '* It must not be, — no joy can e'er abide 
 With me, my vow still unfulfilled. Begone ! 
 Nor come thou hither more to mock and chide 
 My shame. Leave me in darkness here alone,— 
 A bloodless scalp-lock now my boast of glory won. 
 
KEAR. 79 
 
 XXX. 
 
 But though repulsed the merry sunbeam left 
 Behind a happy thought, a questioning — 
 The first thread woven in the golden weft 
 Of his philosophy — how everything 
 In nature could be gay and blossoming, 
 When in his soul was only bitterness ? 
 How could the birds around his wigwam sing ? 
 The flowers emit their sweets ? So pitiless, 
 Great Oki send the light to mock at his distress ? 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 As in each breast there is some sense of shame, 
 However weak and selfish it may be. 
 For petulance and meanness, so there came 
 In his reacting consciousness that he 
 Against the light had uttered blasphemy, — 
 Construing what was good as evil meant. 
 Whence dawned the first idea of charity 
 Upon his mind ; for surely the intent 
 Of all God's gifts was love, and all as blessings sent. 
 
8o KEAR. 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 Ere yet the sun had risen high, he walked 
 Forth from the gloomy shadows of the pines 
 Into the light, and on the meadow talked 
 With birds and flowers. Thereafter the designs 
 Of God in nature were his study, — signs 
 And promises from heaven. The things erewhile 
 As shame and weakness deemed he made the shrines 
 Of his devotions; learned to reconcile 
 God's ways in law and love, and put away all guile. 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 Finding that birds sing just as sweetly when 
 Alone, and think there are no listeners, 
 He put away all vanity. And then 
 He saw how sun and moon are ministers 
 Of light, and thought all true philosophers 
 Are those who give without return, and find 
 That in the blessings which each life confers 
 On others is its glory. To his mind 
 The Spirit's whisperings were as voices in the wind. 
 
KEAR. 8 1 
 
 XXXIV. 
 
 Thus day by day he grew in sympathy 
 With Nature, apprehending more and more 
 Her spirit, wisdom, and simplicity. 
 And yet, when standing on the moonlit shore 
 With loved Eniskin, deeming that the hour 
 Of parting had then come, so long delayed. 
 An evil shadow touched his soul. His power 
 Of truth and manly frankness failed. A shade 
 Of bitterness appeared against her pride arrayed. 
 
 XXXV. 
 
 '^ Proud daughter of great Tamaned," he said, 
 *' I fear thou art some secret grief concealing. 
 Hath darkness suddenly thy sky o'erspread ? 
 Are shadows on thy sunny pathway stealing? 
 Or dost thou fear I come again appealing 
 For love thou canst not give ? Let not thy heart 
 Be sad for me. Not even of thy feeling 
 Of pity am I worthy. Hence apart 
 go, where love nor pride can more my ^purpose 
 thwart." 
 
82 KEAR. 
 
 XXXVI. 
 
 ** Beware, O Nepanet," Eniskin quick 
 Replied with flashing eyes and form erect, 
 *' How thou dost to thy chieftain's daughter speak 
 With mocking words. How couldst thou but ex- 
 pect — 
 No glory having won — I should reject 
 Thy love? 'Twere needless thou shouldst bid adieu 
 
 To me " Then suddenly her words were checked 
 
 With choking sobs, and in her light canoe, 
 As swiftly as a swallow o'er the lake she flew, 
 
 XXXVII. 
 
 Till hid within the shadows of the mountains. 
 Wooded and dark beyond. Here resting from 
 Her flight, o'erwhelmed with shame and grief, the 
 
 fountains 
 Of bitterness o'erflowed in tears. No room 
 For reconciliation now ; yet whom 
 But Nepanet can she e'er love? — and he 
 Can ne'er forgive her bitter words, nor come 
 Again as oft in days gone by, when she, 
 While yet afar, would run to meet him joyfully. 
 
KEAR. 83 
 
 XXXVIII. 
 
 Shall she return and ask him to forgive 
 The bitter words she did not mean ? But no, — 
 Her pride forbade. And yet how can she live 
 Apart from him ? How can she let him go 
 Away forever ? Then her father's woe 
 She called to mind, and her heroic dream 
 Of sacrifice. How can she e'er bestow 
 Her hand on one her sire can ne'er esteem, 
 And who can ne'er the glory of her name redeem? 
 
 XXXIX. 
 
 Then came a sickening thought, at which her pride 
 Was changed, and grew into an agony 
 Of shame, — must she become Oneida's bride? 
 And yet her father said, except this be 
 The tribe must perish or its liberty, 
 For which so many died. In her alone 
 Resteth the hope of Lenni-Lenape. 
 Yes, she will for her nation's life atone, — 
 In her dark eyes a strange unearthly lustre shone. 
 
84 KEAR. 
 
 XL. 
 
 Upon the lake a deeper shadow fell. 
 The moon had set, and with the darkness grew 
 Within her breast repose, — the mystic spell 
 Succeeding mortal grief, when we renew 
 Our strength, and God with courage doth endue 
 Our souls to meet the final sacrifice. 
 Ah ! little dreamed I, when first rose to view 
 Her lovely spirit, that those pitying eyes 
 Had known such grief, — lit with compassion from the 
 skies. 
 
 XLI. 
 
 I saw her face the first, when, lost beside 
 Ewayea's whispering waterfall in trance 
 Of nature's spirit, at one eventide 
 I rested, — though I may ofttimes perchance 
 Of her dark eyes before have caught the glance 
 From starlit fountains, — in the silvery spray 
 Floating in robes of white, her countenance 
 Of wondrous brightness. Often since that day 
 In sylvan paths I've met this angel of my way. 
 
PRELUDE TO CANTO FIFTH. 
 
 TEMPTATION. 
 
 Volition, or the power to choose the right 
 Or wrong, dwells in our consciousness. Hence we. 
 Made in the image of the Infinite, 
 Self-conscious, have like him free agency ; 
 Albeit that through sin in a degree 
 We've lost the power to will, — are in duress ; 
 For sin is trespass, and its penalty 
 The forfeiture of freedom ; in which stress 
 Of bondage we God's laws are tempted to transgress. 
 8 85 
 
S6 KEAR. 
 
 II. 
 
 The three temptations to which sin gives birth 
 Are these : To change the stones to bread, to cast 
 Oneself from heights, the kingdoms of the earth 
 To rule. Or otherwise in order classed, — 
 First avarice, then dissipation, last 
 Selfish ambition. These our Saviour met, 
 And without sin o'ercame, when he had passed 
 His forty days of fasting ; though not yet 
 Triumphant till in agony and bloody sweat, 
 
 III. 
 
 For resignation to his Father's will. 
 He prayed and struggled in Gethsemane. 
 Thus must we ever struggle here until 
 Resigned to what is best. Nor can we be, 
 Though sinning never, from temptation free 
 Till we are reconciled to earthly loss, 
 And death is swallowed up in victory. 
 Doubt, fear, and bitterness are but the dross 
 Of our infirmities, and perish on the cross. 
 
KEAR. 87 
 
 IV. 
 
 What we call evil is not substantive, 
 But is like darkness, cold, and nakedness, 
 A negative condition which doth give 
 Disease, disorder, unrestraint, or stress 
 That are unnatural. If we transgress 
 The law — which is our medium of life — 
 We lose its gifts of health and happiness ; 
 Which is an evil state, degraded, rife 
 With famine, sufferings, passions unsubdued, and strife. 
 
 V. 
 
 It is perverted good. Thus avarice, 
 The greed of gain, is failure to return 
 In charity as we receive ; and vice 
 But reckless waste from failure to discern 
 The limits of indulgence, or to learn 
 Our passions to control. So, too, ambition 
 Becomes but selfish pride, except we burn 
 To right the wrong and seek the acquisition 
 Of glory which in righteousness hath its fruition. 
 
88 KEAR. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Or evil may result from weakness, — lack 
 Of strength in few or many faculties, — 
 Whereby diseases or demoniac 
 Possessions come, and from which there arise 
 Transgressions, sins, and inconsistencies 
 Of mind. And evil, thus personified 
 In lower natures which sin falsifies, 
 Seems positive, producing selfish pride. 
 Hate, envy, dissipation, murder, suicide. 
 
 VII. 
 
 But it is always lack of harmony 
 Within ourselves, or in our contacts. Hence 
 Temptations, though all evil, may yet be 
 Sinful or sinless, — through our own offence, 
 Our weaknesses, or through our innocence; 
 From sin within or sin without, — our own 
 Or that of others. Each yields recompense, 
 If overcome, — salvation unto one ; 
 Another suffering for the truth, a fadeless crown. 
 
KEAR, 89 
 
 VIII. 
 
 The noblest minds, because most sensitive, 
 Are most severely tempted, and most tried 
 By sufferings. Ofttimes — compelled to live 
 In evil contacts ; hating meanness, tied 
 To natures base and brutal ; crucified 
 By bigotry and ignorance ; in stress 
 Of poverty, enslaved to worldly pride ; 
 Or forced with prejudice to acquiesce — 
 Their faith ends in despair, their love in bitterness. 
 
 IX. 
 
 But let not one suppose that he is tempted 
 Beyond his strength ; or that, if he should fall. 
 He may from penalties e'er be exempted. 
 Although temptations do not come to all 
 Alike, — some being mostly sensual, 
 Some moral, — they must be proportioned to 
 Our strength ; for surely, whether great or small. 
 That only can be tempted which is true 
 In us, — that which there is a struggle to subdue. 
 8* 
 
\ 
 
 90 KEAR. 
 
 X. 
 
 Hence, if our strength be equal with temptations 
 While here, — according to our power to feel, 
 Our love of truth, our nobler aspirations, — 
 'Tis plain that God impartially doth deal 
 With all. Temptations equally reveal 
 Our weakness, strength, and possibilities 
 Of shame or glory ; and are meant to heal 
 Our sins, inciting effort, sacrifice 
 For good, whereby to higher happiness we rise. 
 
 XI. 
 
 In short, sin, evil, and infirmity, 
 Disclosing what we lack and yet may gain, 
 If over them we win the victory 
 Of faith, become our glory ; for 'tis plain 
 That if not tempted we could ne'er attain 
 A greater strength. And though the weak may fall, 
 Yet those who triumph reach a higher plane. 
 Hence trials all are ministerial 
 To good, — though by our failures made equivocal. 
 
KEAR. gi 
 
 XII. 
 
 When I inquired of Kear how it were just 
 That one should suffer for his parents' sin, 
 Or that of others? ''AH things," said he, ''must 
 Produce their kind ; and as the souls within 
 The fleshly germs do not with them begin 
 Their lives, but pre-exist, they suffer here 
 Only as those to whom they are akin 
 In nature. And all sufferings appear, 
 And are, to faith of mediatorial character." 
 
CANTO FIFTH. 
 
 As evil is perverted good, our love, 
 Of all our gifts and faculties the best, 
 Being the source of life and joy, may prove, 
 Tempted and overcome, the deadliest 
 Curse, hatred, bitterness ; and hence the test 
 Supreme and final of our manhood may 
 Become. Thus if of levity the jest, 
 Or if caprice and pride its trust betray. 
 It may be turned to hate, and put all faith away. 
 92 
 
KEAR. 
 
 II. 
 
 93 
 
 Or it may be transfigured and survive, 
 As souls redeemed from earth's mortality, 
 And to a joy ineffable arrive, — 
 A love triumphant in its constancy. 
 Though crucified by pride and bigotry, — 
 To which indeed all sufferings are gain ; 
 The secret of our Saviour's agony, — 
 Not that for friends redeemed he suffered pain, 
 But that for enemies he loved he died in vain. 
 
 III. 
 
 No doubt the ways of God are natural. 
 And that the providence which first had led 
 Our hero to a life prophetical 
 Was love. But when at last all hope had fled, 
 And pride at parting to his heart had sped 
 A poisoned arrow, love appeared at first 
 A vain, delusive fancy that had fed 
 A foolish vanity, — a bubble burst ; 
 And even in his bitterness a thing accursed. 
 
94 KEAR. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Though strong in spirit he had not attained 
 A perfect self-control, the stoic gift 
 That only is by long experience gained, — 
 Final temptations, doubts and fears that sift 
 And try our faith, and sufferings that lift 
 Our contemplations to the joys of heaven. 
 Though Oki's face he'd seen through shadowy rift. 
 And caught from nature the prophetic leaven, 
 The final test of faith as yet had not been given. 
 
 V. 
 
 This comes when on a life of love and hope 
 There falls the shadow of the cross, — when first 
 One realizes that 'tis vain to cope 
 With error, pride, and bigotry accurst ; 
 That like all others who have ever durst 
 Maintain the right, he also must endure 
 Therefor a cross ; that hungering and thirst 
 For righteousness, and every purpose pure, 
 Unselfish, but contempt and poverty insure. 
 
REAR. 95 
 
 VI. 
 
 Touched by this shadow youth's ideals fade 
 As summer blossoms nipped by early frost. 
 Confronting selfishness, chilled and dismayed, 
 Its nobler inspirations oft are lost. 
 Whoever stops indeed to count the cost 
 Of being true will lose his dreams ecstatic 
 In fear, or doubt, or wordliness ; for most 
 Improvements and reforms are called erratic, 
 And every prophet deemed at first a wild fanatic. 
 
 VII. 
 
 Transfixed, though seemingly unmoved, long on 
 The moonlit shore benumbed and chilled he stood, 
 When from his sight Eniskin's form had gone, 
 In shadows hid. Beholding him one would 
 Not thought at first his silent, dreamy mood 
 Greatly disturbed ; yet had a viper stung 
 His breast, its venom poison to his blood 
 Had not more deadly been than that which sprung 
 From wounded vanity and love's embittered tongue. 
 
96 
 
 KEAR. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Than love no torture is more terrible 
 To soul so sensitive, so passionate, 
 When true as heaven 'tis yet cast down to hell ; 
 When with the loftiest purposes elate, 
 From adoration it is turned to hate. 
 Than love there is no thralldom more complete, 
 When with a false ideal it would mate. 
 And true and pure is trodden 'neath the feet 
 Of pride, enslaved and made the victim of conceit. 
 
 IX. 
 
 The days and nights that followed were almost 
 A blank in memory. In the wilderness 
 He wandered aimlessly, bewildered, lost 
 In bitter thoughts ; tempted in sore distress 
 By evil demons seeking to possess 
 His wounded spirit; striving to regain 
 The power which in forgiveness finds redress 
 Of wrong, o'ercomes all bitterness and pain, 
 And counts all loss through charity eternal gain. 
 
KEAR. 
 
 X. 
 
 97 
 
 Dimly recalled as memories of his dreams 
 Appeared in after-years those days and nights. 
 Now lying 'neath the moaning pines he seems 
 In sullen mood, deeming great Oki slights 
 His prayers ; now tempted from the rocky heights 
 Of lofty mountain precipice to leap 
 Into the depths ; sometimes to see bright lights 
 And coals of fire touching his lips in sleep ; 
 Or hide in gloomy caves while tempests o'er him sweep. 
 
 XI. 
 
 At times his savage nature long repressed 
 Would seem restored, when passions fierce and wild 
 As angry demons filled his wounded breast \ 
 And vows of vengeance made when but a child, 
 Recalled, once more his sullen moods beguiled. 
 Then self-contempt and shame again returned, 
 When gleams of sunshine on his pathway smiled ; 
 But though all malice from his heart he spurned, 
 With seeming thirst for vengeance still his spirit burned. 
 
 9 
 
KEAR. 
 
 XII. 
 
 A thirst impassioned spirits only know, 
 Who for the right are forced to suffer wrong. 
 Should he consent to be despised, and bow 
 Submissive to his fate? Should he so strong 
 Endure contempt? be counted as among 
 The cowardly and base? No, he would never 
 Submit to shame. Till the contemptuous tongue 
 Of pride withdrew its bitter words should ever 
 Thenceforth revenge be his sole purpose and endeavor. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 But how attained ? The problem long he pondered. 
 He had forgiven for love, and then had learned 
 To give without return ; but now he wondered 
 How wrong could be effaced, when love was turned 
 To bitterness and hate? — the thirst that burned 
 For vengeance be appeased ? Though he could give 
 Without return, or good for good, he spurned 
 Submission to contempt. He would not live 
 In shame, though death should be the sole alternative. 
 
-KEAR. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 99 
 
 Not till the Moon of Leaves began to wane, 
 And he had grown aweary and begun 
 To hunger, did he seem himself again, 
 Or notice aught around him, — whether sun 
 Or moon, in sleep or waking, on him shone, — 
 But when his eyes at last were opened, lo ! 
 God's messengers at every step upon 
 His path appeared. And soon he came to know 
 That true revenge was good for evil to bestow. 
 
 XV. 
 
 The first, a thistle bristling near his path, 
 That stung his hand as he was passing by. 
 " Ha ! dost thou, too," he said with rising wrath, 
 ** Emblem of scornful pride, in ambush lie 
 To sting me with thy venom ?" Lifting high 
 His staff to strike it down, he saw it bore 
 A blossom tinted as the morning sky. 
 From which a bee was sipping honeyed store. 
 So he refrained from wrath and felt the sting no more. 
 
lOO KEAR, 
 
 XVI. 
 
 For he was glad to find the bee, and waited 
 Until it sought on honey-laden wing 
 Its secret hive, when following he sated 
 His hunger on its sweets, encountering 
 In placid mood the insect's venomed sting. 
 If thistles bear, thought he, their blossoms sweet, 
 May not some good from every evil spring? 
 And if the stinging bees give food to eat, 
 E'en bitterness o'ercome may be with joy replete. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 A special message and a prophecy 
 Each work of God appeared. A burning bush 
 The thorny thistle seemed, and like the bee 
 Became an angel in disguise. In hush 
 Of eventide, or in the roar and rush 
 Of mountain torrents there were whisperings, — 
 " Return for evil good." The crimson flush 
 Of darkened skies, and the bright colorings 
 Of clouds, betokened good that from some evil springs. 
 
KEAR. loi 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 From Nature's book he read with open face, 
 And found some truth in every evil thing, 
 Perverted though it were, and stripped of grace. 
 The croaking raven on its dusky wing, 
 Flitting along his path, would ofttimes bring 
 Him bread from heaven, — communings, sympathies 
 With solemn truths when fasting, hungering 
 In spirit. Creeping serpents too grew wise, 
 And hissing warned of death, of dangers in disguise. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 But still in shadows seemed his way involved ; 
 His wrongs some great atonement did demand ; 
 Nor could he rest while should remain unsolved 
 The problem of revenge, — while yet should stand 
 Upon his name the ignominious brand 
 Of cowardice and shame. What deed above 
 Vain glory should his soul exalt ? What grand 
 Heroic sacrifice, endured for love. 
 Should shame Eniskin's words and her false pride re- 
 prove? 
 
 9^ 
 
I02 KEAR. 
 
 XX. 
 
 He grew impatient of his solitude. 
 A ceaseless longing filled his breast — the more 
 As passion was o'ercome, and love subdued — 
 To mingle with the tribe. Perchance the hour 
 Of action had arrived, of which before 
 He had but dreamed, when Oki would concede 
 To him prophetic gifts ; again restore 
 The ancient culture ; give him power to read 
 Tradition, and from glory unto glory lead. 
 
 XXI. 
 
 And yet he lingered doubtful of the voice, 
 The still, small voice within, that called him thence. 
 How could it be great Oki had made choice 
 Of one so young, without experience 
 In counsel, and despised for indolence, 
 To be a prophet to his fallen race ? 
 In fiery breasts he would but rouse offence ; 
 For to the warrior love of peace was base, 
 And to forgive an enemy esteemed disgrace. 
 
KEAR 
 
 XXII. 
 
 103 
 
 His message none would heed j and well he knew 
 He would but meet contempt and arrogance. 
 Yet stronger in his breast the impulse grew, 
 Till but one fear his heart confessed, — the glance 
 Of scorn from eyes he once had loved. Perchance 
 He shrank too from the fancied grave dissent 
 Upon the chieftain's lofty countenance, 
 When thus addressed : " O Tamaned, lament 
 Thy deeds of blood, thy victims slain, thy life mis- 
 spent." 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 Thus diffident, distrustful of his call, 
 He lingered, wandering in the mountain maze 
 Of woods and streams. The leaves began to fall, 
 The nights grow chill. The summer's silvery rays, 
 Transfigured, glowed in autumn's purpling haze. 
 In Nature's spirit more absorbed he grew. 
 Forgetful of himself, — changed as the days. 
 A life in death appeared, immortal, new, — 
 Revealed, prefigured in the autumn's golden hue. 
 
I04 KEAR. 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 Half-waking visions came, when things concealed 
 
 In outward forms, or hid from outward sense, 
 
 In nature and in spirit were revealed. 
 
 At times his outward life seemed in suspense ', 
 
 Or so absorbed, enraptured, and intense 
 
 His thoughts and sympathies, external sight 
 
 And consciousness were lost. Then coming,- 
 
 whence 
 He could not tell, — shining in golden light, 
 Forms, faces were revealed of beauty exquisite. 
 
 XXV. 
 
 But these were only faint foreshadowings 
 Of after-years, when he had come to know 
 Life's mysteries; that all external things 
 Are from within ; that forms and faces grow 
 In correspondence with their natures, — show 
 Indwelling spirits; and had come to see 
 And talk with them, as face to face. But now 
 His visions are like dreams, and seem to be 
 But unsubstantial fancies, fleeting, shadowy. 
 
KEAR. 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 105 
 
 The Moon of Falling Leaves was full, when he 
 Approached the lake, and from his wigwam door 
 Again beneath the shadowy pines could see 
 The gleam of its bright waters, — hear once more, 
 In the deep, rocky gorge near by, the roar 
 Of the wild mountain torrent. Silently 
 Emerging from the forest, lo ! the shore 
 Was girt with smouldering camp-fires; and near by. 
 Around them, groups of dusky warriors met his eye. 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 What meant this marshalling of warriors? 
 
 His quick eye searched each camp. Lo ! there 
 
 appear. 
 Arrayed in peaceful garbs, ambassadors 
 Of many nations far remote and near, — 
 Algonquins seemingly devoid of fear 
 With hostile Iroquois encamped. No trace 
 Of warlike purpose could be seen, — no spear. 
 Nor bow, nor tomahawk, — no painted face ; 
 But round their camp-fires grouped, all smoked the 
 pipe of peace. 
 
Io6 KEAR. 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 He marvelled greatly at this gathering, 
 And gazed entranced upon the peaceful scene. 
 Was it a vision, a foreshadowing 
 Of what, in coming years that intervene 
 The present and the future life between, 
 Would come to pass, when Oki would restore 
 The brotherhood and peace that once had been ? 
 Or scene by magic moonlight on this shore 
 Restored of former days, but which could come no 
 more ? 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 No, these are living faces that he sees. 
 Here are Oneida's chiefs of stately mien, 
 And there the grave-faced Lenni-Lenapes, 
 Around whose camp the other tribes convene. 
 With Ottokee and Tamaned are seen. 
 Near to the latter's is Eniskin's tent, 
 Its doorway darkened by a pictured screen, 
 On which, and each familiar ornament 
 Wrought by her fairy fingers, long his eyes are bent, 
 
KEAR. 
 
 XXX. 
 
 107 
 
 Eyes dimmed with tears. Alas ! how slight a token 
 Will oft a hopeless love or grief restore ! 
 E'en to a spirit brave, a heart unbroken, 
 By truth sustained and more than conqueror, 
 Grief may return with overwhelming power; 
 And love once buried yet again arise, — 
 Though bruised, its sweetness as a trampled flower 
 Exhale. E'en bitterness intensifies, 
 Subdued to charity, the love that never dies. 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 At last all slept save one, — the aged chief 
 Of Lenni-Lenape, who sat alone 
 As one deep brooding o'er some secret grief. 
 His face, on which the flickering camp-fire shone, 
 Was changed, — still stern, but sad and weary grown, 
 And troubled. Now with eyes upturned he throws 
 His hands aloft in prayer unto the throne 
 Of the Great Spirit ; now with face that glows 
 In supplication, o'er his slumbering friends and foes. 
 
I08 KEAR, 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 But he, too, sank to rest at last ; and soon 
 Above the mountain crest, upon the strand 
 Pouring its golden light, the full-orbed moon 
 Arose. A seer who of Oneida's band 
 Upon this peaceful mission held command, 
 Awoke from sleep, — whether he could not tell 
 By touch of moonlight on his face, or hand 
 Laid lightly on his shoulder. Or there fell 
 Perchance upon him dreaming a prophetic spell. 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 He saw a slender youth of supple grace 
 
 Beside him standing in a flowing dress, — 
 
 The ancient prophet's garb of white. His face. 
 
 Though sad, subdued, and full of gentleness, 
 
 Did yet a lofty consciousness express. 
 
 Though changed, the phantom form — for such he 
 
 deemed 
 It was, as he bewildered, motionless. 
 Lay listening to its words — familiar seemed ; 
 Words which, when morning dawned, he thought he 
 
 had but dreamed. 
 
PRELUDE TO CANTO SIXTH. 
 
 LAW AND PROVIDENCE. 
 
 T. 
 
 There are who think there is no God because 
 All things are evolutions. But if this 
 Were a true inference, then all the laws 
 Of being show the same, — show that there is 
 No guiding mind ; and if things went amiss, 
 And not in order natural and right, 
 That there might be a God, — albeit his 
 Designs would be capricious, hid from sight, 
 And being lawless be confusion infinite. 
 
 lo 109 
 
no REAR. 
 
 II. 
 
 Moreover, every work of man's invention — 
 All nice adjustments of machinery — 
 Would show there is no man, and no intention, 
 Will, mental oversight, aim, or decree. 
 Dismissing, therefore, this absurdity, 
 We yet admit that each intelligence 
 Is subject unto law, and must needs be 
 An evolution. Even Providence 
 Is natural, — of truth and love the consequence. 
 
 III. 
 
 All things are births, developments, constructions 
 From things that are, but not creations out 
 Of nothing. They are natural deductions; 
 That is rational and just. Hence about 
 The ways of God there could not be a doubt, 
 If we like him were just. If he doth act, 
 He acteth in some way, — never without 
 A lawful system. From his will, in fact, 
 Law is evolved ; and hence he could not law infract. 
 
KEAR. Ill 
 
 IV. 
 
 Some seem to think that law is bondage. Well, 
 It is if violated, — will consign 
 The trespasser to all the pains of hell. 
 But law observed is freedom, — doth enshrine 
 All power and life, because of love divine 
 The evolution. Hence we plainly see 
 In it not only providence, design. 
 And mental oversight, but also the 
 Protection of our rights, our life, our liberty. 
 
 V. 
 
 So far from law restraining, it doth measure 
 All power and knowledge. Nothing can be done 
 Except by law. It gives and guards each treasure 
 Of life and happiness, and doth atone 
 For wrong and injury. By it alone 
 Is strength, finite or infinite. And hence. 
 The power to will and do whatever one 
 May choose exists but in obedience 
 Thereto, — whether in man or in Omnipotence. 
 
112 
 
 REAR. 
 
 VI. 
 
 By Providence we mean the oversight 
 Of all existing things by God, — control, 
 Direction, making all things just and right ; 
 Adapting means to ends, so that each soul 
 And part shall correspond unto the whole, — 
 The Universal Good. And though we sin, 
 Or make mistakes, we yet may reach our goal, 
 Either through opportunities to win 
 What we have lost, or punishment and discipline. 
 
 VII. 
 
 But one may say : "If God all things doth rule. 
 Why doth he sin permit? — or give the will 
 And power of evil to mankind ?" Thou fool ! 
 God doth not sin permit, — albeit till . 
 Repentance proveth vain he would fulfil 
 The law in love. Because God would forgive, 
 Doth this annul the law, '' Thou shalt not kill?" 
 Nay, though repentant murderers may live. 
 Sin's wages still is death, and law retributive. 
 
KEAR. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 "3 
 
 It saith : ^'The soul that sinneth it shall die," — 
 And yet if man exist at all, he must 
 Have power to sin, — the possibility 
 Of evil. Otherwise he were but dust, 
 Unconscious, lifeless. Hence it is not just 
 To say God doth our sin permit, — unless 
 Each noble gift committed to our trust 
 That we pervert, though it were meant to bless. 
 Is such permission, — even life and consciousness. 
 
 IX. 
 
 '' But how and when," I said to Kear, " did sin 
 Originate, if not with God ? — On earth 
 With man?" '' It never did," he said, "begin. 
 Evil is negative, — a want, a dearth, 
 As cold or hunger, — lack of that by birth 
 Essential to, harmonious with, our state. 
 All things are good, all things of real worth. 
 If rightly balanced, — small with what is great, — 
 When nobler o'er inferior things predominate. 
 
114 
 
 KEAR. 
 
 " There must be harmony. If this be broken, 
 The law restoreth it. Disease, and death, 
 And hell, and every evil thing, betoken 
 The process which in time transfigureth 
 Sin to its corresponding state beneath. 
 Or to repentance and reform incites. 
 From evil evil comes. Sin must bequeath 
 Its heritage of hell. Each law requites 
 Obedience with good, and its transgressor smites. 
 
 XI. 
 
 " Existence is in states, an infinite 
 Succession, — more or less intelligence, 
 Power, knowledge, happiness. And these unite 
 In one harmonious being — All. And hence 
 'Tis plain to see, where'er we may commence, 
 There is above a higher, and below 
 A less. The higher is a providence 
 Unto the less, — a helper. It doth show 
 Thereto a light in darkness, and good gifts bestow. 
 
KEAR. 115 
 
 XII. 
 
 But still I queried : '' Who is God ? If than 
 
 Each mind there is a greater, than each state 
 
 A better, — infinite increase, — how can 
 
 There be a One an Infinitely Great ? — 
 
 A single mind that doth predominate 
 
 All others?" '' There could not," he said,—'' not 
 
 One 
 A fraction of the whole, — One separate 
 From all, and yet o'er all, — One who alone, 
 Apart from Universal Good, as God is known. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 " That could not be ; for if God were not All, 
 He would be less, and hence not infinite. 
 He is the One of all, both great and small ; 
 All else developments of All. A mite. 
 An atom, or a little mind, is quite 
 As truly God unto a smaller thing 
 As any less than All. In God unite 
 All parts, — not he from them developing ; 
 For they in him exist, and from his substance spring. 
 
Il6 KEAR. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 *'To powers above there is no limit. Hence 
 All help we need, all things we would attain, 
 Will be vouchsafed us by God's providence, 
 If we but wait and strive. No dream is vain 
 Of glory, wisdom, happiness, or gain. 
 To faith. Nay, even sin and base desire, — 
 Howbeit that therefore we suffer pain, — 
 If overcome with good, will lift us higher ; 
 And every trial prove a chariot of fire." 
 
CANTO SIXTH. 
 
 Upon the shore the chief his daughter met, 
 When past the hour of midnight she returned, 
 The bitter night she fled from Nepanet ; 
 And as he pressed his lips to hers discerned. 
 In starlight gleaming, the strange light that burned 
 In her grieved eyes and on her fevered cheek. 
 With anxious care and tenderness he yearned 
 To comfort her ; and yet seemed not to seek 
 Or note her secret grief, — waiting for her to speak. 
 
 117 
 
Il8 KEAR. 
 
 II. 
 
 *' Father," she said, '* I know thou lovest me ', 
 That gladly wouldst thou still thy burdens bear 
 Of grief alone, if only I might be. 
 As I have been, without a grief or care. 
 But, father, could I not thy sorrows share, 
 Unworthy of thy name, or to partake 
 Of its great glory should I be. Nay, spare 
 Me not. For thee and for my nation's sake 
 Will I all things endure till Heaven my spirit take. 
 
 III. 
 
 '* If thou hast sinned through vanity and pride, 
 I have the more. And now let me alone 
 Therefor atone. Give me to be the bride 
 Of the Oneida's chief, the vengeful son 
 Of him whose blood was shed, — the Heart of Stone. 
 Thus may our tribe preserve its liberty, — 
 Attained through many lives, preserved through one; 
 Thus may I share thy glory, and with thee 
 May reach the Happy Hunting-Grounds from sorrow 
 free. 
 
REAR. 119 
 
 IV. 
 
 "But, father, ere I go, this last request 
 I make of thee, — that thou tell Nepanet," — 
 Hiding her burning face upon his breast, — 
 " Tell him, when I am gone, he must forget 
 The bitter words I spoke when last we met. 
 Say that I did not mean them, — say that I 
 Was true in heart, though false in tongue ; and yet 
 Could not his love accept. Oh ! tell him why 
 I wed Oneida's chief, — that for our tribe I die." 
 
 She clung unto his neck as if she thought 
 He were about to spurn her from his breast, 
 When gently to unclasp her hands he sought, 
 That he might speak. *' Nay, fear not, — I ha 
 
 guessed," 
 He said, '' erewhile the love thou hast confessed. 
 And may it not, sweet daughter, prove in vain ; 
 Nor yet the sacrifice thou offerest. 
 If Nepanet true glory shall attain, 
 Thou shalt be his, and I a worthy son shall gain. 
 
120 KEAR. 
 
 VI. 
 
 "Trust thou with me. Although the night be dark, 
 And faint the trail that I am following, 
 My light uncertain as the glow-worm's spark. 
 Yet hope again doth in my bosom spring 
 That Oki will at last my spirit bring 
 Out from these shadows to a world of light. 
 Henceforth my steps shall know no faltering ; 
 No doubt nor fear shall swerve me from the right, — 
 That I may stand approved in the Great Spirit's sight. 
 
 VII. 
 
 '' And yet the sacrifice that thou wouldst make 
 I will accept, — the sacrifice of love, 
 Which thou for me and for our nation's sake 
 Dost freely offer. Not that I approve 
 Aught but thy motive, or aught e'er shall move 
 Me to consent to what is base, unjust, 
 Or evil ; but that thereby I would prove 
 Whether in Oki's guidance I may trust, 
 And the Hereafter, ere I mingle dust with dust. 
 
REAR. 121 
 
 VIII. 
 
 " Last night a revelation, not less strange 
 Than was the dream I told thee, came to me, — 
 Words spoken which have wrought a wondrous change 
 In all my thought, — alike concerning thee 
 And e'en our nation's life and liberty. 
 Spoken by human lips, they yet appear 
 Responsive to my prayers, and seem to be 
 The voice of the Great Spirit in my ear, 
 To guide my steps and make my way and duty clear. 
 
 IX. 
 
 '' I cannot tell thee more. Wilt thou not trust 
 With me in the Great Spirit's guidance? Nay, 
 Howe'er so great our doubts and fears, we must 
 Yet trust in him. There is no other way 
 For souls in life's dark wilderness astray, ^ 
 Who would the Happy Hunting-Grounds attain. 
 And if there be a land of rest, we may. 
 Forgetting what is past, its grief and pain. 
 Make all our loss and suffering here eternal gain." 
 
122 KEAR. 
 
 Thrilled with new hope, — though she could only 
 
 weep, — 
 Eniskin listened. Each assuring word — 
 As one awakened from a fevered sleep, 
 While yet scarce conscious, hears a morning bird 
 Among the leaves by summer breezes stirred. 
 While through the window morning sunshine gleams — 
 With inspiration of great joy she heard. 
 Her love approved, supremely blest she seems. 
 And all her doubts and fears dispelled as troubled 
 dreams. 
 
 XI. 
 
 But they came back that night. Alas ! how soon 
 Faith falters ere it reach sufficiency 
 Of strength in God ! As phases of the moon 
 Emotions change. That which we cannot see 
 We think is not and never is to be. 
 The way made clear, again is intricate, 
 And hope gives place to evil augury. 
 Not till in perfect trust we learn to wait 
 Submissive to God's will, all doubts and fears abate. 
 
KEAR. 123 
 
 XII. 
 
 And oh ! how sweet this earthly life would be, 
 Howe'er so great its toil and discipline, 
 If in all trials we could only see 
 But opportunities for good ; define 
 Each source of doubt and mystery design 
 Of Providence, o'erruling for the best 
 Our errors, sins, and sorrows ; could resign 
 Ourselves and every earthly interest 
 To heavenly guidance ; and in trust find perfect rest ! 
 
 XIII. 
 
 That night reclining on her couch of ferns 
 Within her wigwam, long Eniskin thought 
 Upon her father's words. Soon she discerns 
 But vain, delusive hopes therein. With naught 
 But disappointments seems her pathway fraught; 
 And sad forebodings, too, her bosom fill. 
 From Pahpukkeena's plaint in darkness caught. 
 Flitting across her open doorway sill. 
 The Wawonaissa wakes its lamentations shrill. 
 
KEAR. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 Meantime the aged chieftain had repaired 
 Unto the tent of noble Ottokee, 
 His brother's son, and younger chief, who shared 
 Among the tribes of Lenni-Lenape 
 Next to himself supreme authority ; 
 Whom rousing from his slumbers thus addressed : 
 '' My son, may peace and sunshine dwell with thee; 
 May Gki's spirit on thy spirit rest. 
 And his unerring counsels rule thy fiery breast ! 
 
 XV. 
 
 '^ My sun is setting, and in thee repose. 
 Thy wisdom and thy courage yet untried. 
 Our nation's hope. .1 know thy bosom glows 
 With lofty purpose ; but beware lest pride 
 With thirst for earthly glory be allied. 
 Oh ! may the spirit of thy noble sire 
 Who for our freedom fought and gladly died, — 
 That which for good doth strive, and doth acquire 
 Glory through sacrifice of self, — thy breast inspire ! 
 
KEAR. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 125 
 
 '^But seek not conquest purchased with the blood 
 Of friends and foes ; nor deem that otherwise 
 Than in the noble deeds that work the good 
 Of all, even of foes, true glory lies, — 
 That which shall give thee entrance to the skies. 
 All else is fleeting as the transient blaze . 
 Of fiery Ishkoodah, the star that flies 
 Burning athwart the heavens. All earthly praise 
 Goes out in darkness when our fleeting life decays. 
 
 •XVII. 
 
 '' My heart is troubled. My life's setting sun 
 Is hid in clouds ; and the Great Spirit's face 
 Is turned away. My work is almost done, 
 And is but vanity ; for I can trace 
 Therein no blessings to my fallen race, 
 Nor to myself a promise or a sign 
 That I shall share with deathless souls a place 
 Among the stars of heaven that o'er us shine, 
 And which great Oki doth heroic souls assign. 
 
126 KEAR. 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 '* But in the gathering gloom a light appears 
 That faintly tints the clouds with golden gleam; 
 And winged words in darkness reach my ears, 
 As voiceless thoughts that happy spirits seem 
 Sometimes to send us in a pleasant dream ; 
 Whereby I trust that ere my life shall end 
 I may my soul from sin and death redeem. 
 Could I but prove of all our race the friend, 
 I might in glory to the sun and stars ascend. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 **Then haste thee to fulfil my last command. 
 Summon our messengers at once to meet, 
 And place the pipe of peace in every hand. 
 Then bid them haste, and let each runner fleet 
 Bind his swift moccasins upon his feet, 
 To bear to every tribe this peaceful token ; 
 Saying the aged Tamaned doth greet 
 His friends and foes ; that he who ne'er hath broken 
 His promise when once pledged, these words of peace 
 hath spoken : 
 
KEAR. 
 
 XX. 
 
 127 
 
 *' ' Brothers, our breasts let peace and friendship rule. 
 I light my council fire at Whispering Wave, 
 When next the Moon of Falling Leaves is full. 
 The friendly counsels of your wise and brave, 
 With mine and of all other tribes, I crave, — ■ 
 Partly in measures for the good of all. 
 Wherein we may unite ourselves to save 
 From evils that I fear will soon befall 
 Our race, — and partly in this matter personal : 
 
 XXI. 
 
 " ' To all the chiefs who now my daughter seek. 
 And to all others, be they high or low, — 
 Sachems or men unknown to fame, — I speak. 
 I will my daughter's hand on him bestow 
 Who shall to me the wisest counsels show 
 Touching the interests of our race. And none 
 Will I reject, be he my friend or foe. 
 The wisest counsellor shall be my son. 
 And to his wigwam lead my child, the Crystal Stone.' " 
 
128 KEAR. 
 
 XXII. 
 
 As wont with all, with reverence profound 
 The young chief listened to great Tamaned ; 
 And thus replied, his eyes bent on the ground : 
 '' Father, whether thou livest or art dead, 
 Will I be ever by thy counsels led, — 
 Thy wish be mine, thy will a law to me. 
 My ears were open to what thou hast said, 
 And ere another moon thy words shall be 
 Heard by each tribe, — alike by friend and enemy.'' 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 " 'Tis well, my son," the aged chief replied, 
 '' That thou obeyest this my best desire ; 
 And may my counsels e'er with thee abide. 
 But than my aim in life may thine be higher, — 
 That seeking peace on earth thou may'st acquire 
 Eternal peace ; that when thy work be done, 
 Thy soul aflame with Oki's living fire. 
 Thou may'st receive a wigwam in the sun. 
 And there thy glory live and grow, on earth begun. 
 
KEAR. 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 129 
 
 Homeward returning on the silent shore 
 Of the lone lake, as o'er the hills the sun 
 Uprose in splendor, ne'er it seemed before, 
 Not e'en in raptured hours of victory won. 
 So brightly in his face its beams had shone. 
 " Ah ! how," he mused, as with veiled eyes to gaze 
 In Oki's burning face he sought, " may one 
 Of earthly mould dwell ever in the blaze 
 Of him whose soul is Fire, whose face the Day of days ! 
 
 XXV. 
 
 ''And yet methinks I feel a happier thrill, — 
 That my dim eyes can even now descry, 
 As once in dreams upon Poemotunck's hill. 
 Faintly appearing in the glowing sky. 
 The wigwams of the blest who never die. 
 Perchance — ah ! yes, I see this must be true — 
 The seeming dimness as our end draws nigh 
 Is brighter vision, and that we renew 
 Our sight through blindness here, as heaven grows on 
 our view." 
 
T30 REAR. 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 Eniskin's light canoe touched on the strand, 
 While he entranced stood gazing in the light ; 
 Nor did he heed her voice till her soft hand 
 Was pressed upon his face, — '' Father, what sight 
 Dost thou behold that makes thy face so bright?" 
 Instant his arms his daughter's form enfold. 
 "I thought," he answered, ''o'er yon mountain 
 
 height 
 I could the Happy Hunting-Grounds behold. 
 Floating as islands green on seas of blue and gold. 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 '' But why so early art thou on the lake? 
 I would thou still wert resting on thy couch. 
 Haste to thy wigwam and thyself betake 
 To pleasant dreams. Thy face unto my touch 
 Is burning, thy hands chill. I fear me much 
 I've troubled thee with needless doubts and fears 
 Already past. And now I pray thee such 
 Thou wilt henceforth dismiss. Be of good cheer. 
 As this bright morning is thy life will soon appear. 
 
KEAR. 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 131 
 
 ^* As thou didst with my sorrow sympathize, 
 So also in my glory thou shalt share. 
 I have proclaimed that thou shalt be the prize 
 Of him who coming hither shall declare 
 To me the wisest counsels. Hence prepare 
 To be of him most worthy to receive 
 The happy bride. Put from thee all thy care, 
 In the Great Spirit trusting ; and believe 
 That he whom thou canst love this glory shall achieve.' 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 Her father's purpose thus to her disclosed, 
 A gleam of sunshine thrilled Eniskin's breast. 
 But doubt again its shadow interposed 
 To hide the light. For surely in this test 
 Of wisdom was it plainly manifest 
 That Nepanet could not the prize attain. 
 Sadly she spoke : " To what thou deemest best 
 Will I submit, although thy trust be vain 
 That he, whom I alone can love, this glory gain. 
 
132 KEAR. 
 
 XXX. 
 
 " For Nepanet, alas ! doth not aspire 
 To win a glorious name ; nor otherwise, 
 Could he excel in counsel, would desire, 
 I fear, and for just cause, to win a prize 
 Which he in bitterness doth now despise. 
 Moreover, he hath gone, and will no more 
 Return. But echoes answer to my cries, 
 When now I call his name along the shore ; 
 Nor voice responds to rappings on his wigwam door. 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 ''Yet, father, from my path thy words have lifted 
 The shadow which I deemed my greatest grief; 
 For that thou wilt my hand on him most gifted 
 In counsels wise bestow, is my relief 
 From promise made to wed Oneida's chief. 
 And now that fear and shame are put aside, 
 I will rejoice, my life however brief. 
 That to the wisest I shall be allied, 
 And in this glory may my ceaseless sorrow hide." 
 
KEAR. 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 -^zz 
 
 The chief was troubled. Can it be, he thought, 
 That by the sacrifice of that most dear 
 On earth alone may heavenly peace be sought ? 
 Can that which is our greatest sorrow here, 
 In the Hereafter greatest joy appear ? 
 A shade of doubt upon his spirit fell, 
 Although he answered her with words of cheer : 
 '' What the Great Spirit wills we cannot tell ; 
 But if we trust him here, in heaven all will be well. 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 ''And doubtless Nepanet will soon return. 
 And even now perchance in solitude 
 Doth in communings with great Oki learn 
 What for our race may prove of greatest good. 
 For thou didst err that thou didst deem his mood 
 Averse to glory. From thy blinded eyes 
 Was hid the noble purpose that imbued 
 His lofty spirit. Than all others wise. 
 He will, should he contend therefor, attain the prize.'' 
 
 12 
 
134 
 
 KEAR. 
 
 XXXIV. 
 
 Yet while he spoke — although Eniskin's face, 
 Upturned to his in eager questioning, 
 Grew wondrous bright ; while in her eyes, all trace 
 Of sadness gone, through tears still lingering. 
 As instant flashing of the oriole's wing, 
 Or sunlight gleaming in the morning dew. 
 He saw a joyous exultation spring — 
 A cross before unseen arose to view, 
 And on his shrinking soul its chilling shadow threw. 
 
 XXXV. 
 
 What if his words of cheer but served to give 
 His child a hope that could not be fulfilled ! 
 Could she, when this sweet hope had ceased to live, 
 Survive ? — and yielding to what heaven had willed, 
 From earthly loss a heavenly promise build ? 
 Or should she not survive this doubtful test. 
 Could such a sacrifice with glory gild 
 The sunset of his life? Could he be blest. 
 And through such earthly loss attain a heavenly rest ? 
 
KEAR. 
 
 XXXVI. 
 
 135 
 
 And as the summer waned, and Nepanet 
 Did not return, nor scout nor messenger. 
 That he had sent to seek for him, had met 
 By forest, lake, or stream explored afar 
 The foot-prints of the lonely wanderer, — 
 Though still unshaken in his confidence 
 That in his purpose formed he could not err, — 
 He shrank the more from thought of recompense 
 Attained through sacrifice of trustful innocence. 
 
 XXXVII. 
 
 But strangely, as the meeting nearer drew 
 Of the appointed council, the bright light 
 Upon Eniskin's face the brighter grew, — 
 As oft the loveliest colorings unite. 
 Lending thereto a beauty exquisite. 
 Upon the autumn leaf; or oft are seen, 
 Before the lingering summer takes its flight, 
 And after storm and darkness, calm, serene. 
 And peaceful harvest days, brighter than e'er have 
 been. 
 
136 
 
 KEAR. 
 
 XXXVIII. 
 
 And much he marvelled how each sweet expression 
 By Nature taught, to greater loveliness 
 Was changed ; transfigured by the slow accession 
 Of inward light and peace ; changed, though not less 
 Distinct and natural, — her wonted dress 
 Of green and russet, with which slowly blent 
 Autumn's bright colorings ; her soft caress 
 From summer breezes caught, which sorrow lent 
 Deep tenderness, and resignation calm content. 
 
PRELUDE TO CANTO SEVENTH. 
 
 IMMORTALITY. 
 
 '' Kear, art thou sure there is a life from death, 
 Deathless, in which all that our spirits crave 
 Will come to pass?" I whispered, when beneath 
 The ancient elm whose drooping branches wave, 
 As once above her wigwam, o'er the grave 
 Of one he loved, we long in silence had 
 Been sitting, — '' that which giveth power to save 
 What seemeth lost ?— that maketh sorrow glad. 
 And each true love permits, on earth by sin forbade?'' 
 
 12* 137 
 
138 KEAR. 
 
 II. 
 
 Couldst thou have seen the face he turned to mine, 
 Ere he had spoken, — so compassionate. 
 Sadly reproving, yet with light divine 
 Of perfect peace and trust irradiate, 
 And with triumphant consciousness elate, — 
 Thou couldst not doubted more a living flame 
 May here a mortal nature animate. 
 Nay, that thou couldst have feared such spirit came 
 From dust, thou wouldst, as I, have hid thy face in 
 shame. 
 
 III. 
 
 '' Not sure," he said, '' that all we may desire 
 Will come to pass from out this life of sin ; 
 But that to whatsoe'er we may aspire 
 With patient strivings, that we surely win. 
 All things must have their end which we begin. 
 Whether of life or death, — their consummation 
 Or natural result ; fruition in 
 Our joys or sorrows, — final exaltation 
 To higher states \ or unto lower, degradation. 
 
KEAR. 
 
 IV. 
 
 139 
 
 "Life is not visible nor substantive, 
 But like the light or heat it is of motion, — 
 Emotion of the truth and love that give 
 All things expression, as the waves of ocean 
 Are wakened of the winds, and true devotion 
 Of inspiration of God's love the fruit. 
 Decay, disease, and sin are the corrosion 
 Of that which doth the inner life transmute 
 To outward, and the soul's expression constitute. 
 
 V. 
 
 " How could we rise except inferior things 
 That fetter life and joy were left behind ? 
 In every death there is a birth that springs 
 From changed conditions more or less refined. 
 Whereby unto the spirit is assigned 
 Another body, world, surroundings, state, — 
 Expressions corresponding to its mind. 
 Hence every grave is for some soul the gate 
 Unto a better life or one degenerate. 
 
I40 
 
 KEAR. 
 
 VI. 
 
 **A11 things are from within, all life from life, 
 Each spirit from a spirit ; and unless 
 The truth and love, with which all things are rife, 
 May perish when decay doth dispossess 
 The spirit of its body, and repress 
 Its outward action, it doth yet survive. 
 And to its source of being have access. 
 Not through the body souls their life derive. 
 But through the Soul of souls they all are made alive. 
 
 vii. 
 
 '' Doubt not all things, as I have taught thee, are 
 Eternal; that whate'er exists at all 
 Exists forever ; and that what we share 
 In part, although but very scant and small 
 It seem, having its source original 
 In All, exists in fulness to supply 
 All our desires if they be natural ; 
 That is, of truth and love, — sole reasons why 
 That which is good should live, and what is evil die. 
 
KEAR. 141 
 
 VIII. 
 
 " The finite proves there is an infinite ; 
 The mortal there is immortality. 
 Each less must be of greater and unite 
 In endless chain whatever there may be 
 Less than itself. Each state is a degree 
 In infinite progressions, and doth prove 
 There is a higher, — life, eternity 
 Of life ; this world, a perfect world above ; 
 Each joy, a perfect joy ; each love, .a perfect love. 
 
 IX. 
 
 " Naught could receive if there were not a giver, 
 And naught could give except that it receive. 
 There is a fountain if there be a river ; 
 And that we thirst, or crave, or hope, or grieve, 
 Is proof there is what may each want relieve. 
 If there be little there is surely more ; 
 If All be infinite we must believe 
 There is of life and joy a boundless store, — 
 And naught we crave is vain, or lost that we deplore. 
 
142 KEAR, 
 
 X. 
 
 '* Yes, I am sure" — But here his voice became 
 A whisper indistinct, and then was still ; 
 Except I thought to hear another's name 
 And voice. Perchance it was of mountain rill 
 The murmur, or the song of whip-poor-will 
 From o'er the lake afar in mountain glen. 
 With head bowed on his breast, he sat until 
 I spoke at last, touching his shoulder, when. 
 As if recalling his lost words, he spoke again. 
 
 XI. 
 
 '' Yes, I am sure the spirit of my love 
 Bereft survives, transfigured, glorified, 
 And waits my coming in the world above j 
 For I dwell there in spirit, though beside 
 Thee in the flesh I still on earth abide ; 
 The more distinctly it doth seem of late. 
 As things of earth the more in shadows hide. 
 Perchance with thee I may not longer wait, 
 And am of the new life already at the gate. 
 
REAR. 143 
 
 XII. 
 
 "And yet I need not ever to have died, 
 Had I more closely always walked with God ; 
 For death would not the earth and heaven divide, 
 Nor e'er our bodies- moulder 'neath the sod, 
 Had we God's laws observed and ever trod. 
 Sinless as Jesus lived, the living way. 
 But it is just that we should feel the rod, 
 The sting of death ; nor otherwise we may 
 Escape our burdens here, sin's suffering and decay." 
 
 XIII. 
 
 This was in early summer. Not until 
 The autumn leaves had fallen on his grave 
 Did I depart. 'Twas long ago ; and still 
 Each summer to the shore of Whispering Wave 
 Do I return ; and what to know I crave 
 He teacheth me of his philosophy. 
 Beneath the pines, and when the tempests rave 
 Around my wigwam, he doth come to me 
 In dreams j and ever near in spirit seems to be. 
 
CANTO SEVENTH. 
 
 At early dawn great Tamaned arose, 
 
 And stood before his tent facing the East ; 
 
 And while the camps were yet in deep repose 
 
 Intently watched the light as it increased. 
 
 '' O Thou," he prayed, ''who hath not ever 
 
 ceased, — 
 Great Oki, Soul of Fire, — since life begun, 
 To shed thy beams alike on man and beast, 
 With cloudless face this day shine thou upon 
 This council; teach how lasting glory may be won." 
 144 
 
KEAR. 
 
 11. 
 
 U5 
 
 Then to his wigwam he withdrew, and there 
 His towering form in princely robes he dressed, 
 Which in great councils he was wont to wear, — 
 His eagle plume, his pictured belt and vest 
 On which he had his mighty deeds expressed. 
 Then coming forth into the open space 
 Before his tent, when o'er the mountain crest 
 The rising sun appeared with cloudless face, 
 He knelt beside, and lit the council-fire of peace. 
 
 III. 
 
 With stately tread and solemn faces, fasting. 
 The counsellors approached the sacred flame. 
 Symbol of life and glory everlasting. 
 And in Algonquin worship deemed the same 
 As that first lighted by the soul that came 
 Down from the sun, — and slowly gathered round, 
 First the great chiefs, then those of lesser name. 
 Circle in circle, sitting on the ground 
 In silence with bowed heads in reverence profound. 
 
 13 
 
146 KEAR. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Ambassadors of many tribes there are, 
 Sachems and seers, a mighty gathering. 
 Here is the Bashaba, wlio dwells afar 
 By ice-bound seas whence Wabun's tempests spring; 
 Pometacom, the Wampanoag's king, 
 Dwelling Acushnet's willowy shore beside ; 
 Adario, who hears the thundering 
 By night and day of great Niagara's tide; 
 And Grangula, with the Oneida tribes allied. 
 
 And other youthful chiefs of noble mien 
 Have come contending for the beauteous prize. 
 Among the elder counsellors are seen 
 The pale-faced Cherokees, in councils wise; 
 The Seminoles, who dwell 'neath burning skies; 
 And restless wandering Shawanese, who roam 
 The forests whence Ohio's fountains rise. 
 Nipmucks and stealthy Pequots, too, have come, 
 Who make the banks of swift Quinniticut their home. 
 
KEAR. 147 
 
 VI. 
 
 When all were seated a long interval 
 Of silence followed, passed in meditation, 
 Each with expression grave and mystical, 
 Invoking secretly the inspiration 
 Of guardian spirits of his race and nation. 
 Then from the flame great Tamaned relit 
 The pipe of peace, and made this proclamation 
 " Brothers, to all who in this council sit. 
 First to Oneida's seer this token I transmit. 
 
 VII. 
 
 *' And as its smoke ascendeth to the skies. 
 
 So may your words reach the Great Spirit's ear. 
 
 Let each now speak what seemeth true and wise 
 
 Touching the interests of our race" — But here 
 
 His words were checked ; for slowly there drew 
 
 near. 
 From the dark pines emerging into light. 
 And sitting down beside Oneida's seer, 
 A form whose face was almost hid from sight 
 In ancient prophet's dress, a flowing robe of white. 
 
48 KEAR. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Except Oneida's seer, the council gazed, 
 Surprised and startled by this apparition, 
 In silent awe thereon, — not less amazed 
 That with the greater chiefs it took position. 
 Than by its dress known only in tradition. 
 At length with great emotion Tamaned 
 Resumed : "And let each speak who hath ambition 
 To win my beauteous daughter's hand," he said, — 
 ' E'en though he be a prophet risen from the dead. 
 
 IX. 
 
 '' First I inquire concerning life and death, — 
 Whence have we come, and whither do we go ? 
 Second, when Pauguk robs us of our breath. 
 How may our glory won still live and grow ? 
 And third, I would some counsellor would show 
 How all our tribes in brotherhood may live. 
 None to another ever deemed a foe. 
 Thus as one nation may our tribes survive. 
 And none our race of its inheritance deprive." 
 
KEAR. 149 
 
 Then slowly rose Oneida's aged seer. 
 Taking the pipe and blowing towards the sun 
 A breath of smoke, he stood with face austere^ 
 Watching the fume arise unto the throne 
 Of the Great Spirit. '' Thus our life begun," 
 He said, "■ by one who from the skies descended, 
 Doth thitherward again, when we have done 
 Our work on earth, return ; and as is blended 
 This breath in air, our life in Hawaneu's is ended. 
 
 XI. 
 
 '' And as thou wouldst, great chief, that I should show 
 How all our enmities we may dispel, 
 And how our glories won may live and grow, 
 I will Oneida's great tradition tell : 
 Once into darkness from the skies there fell 
 A woman, who, alighting on the earth, 
 On which at that time only beasts did dwell. 
 Married the creeping Tortoise, and gave birth 
 To twins, — sons of like strength, but of unequal worth. 
 
 13* 
 
l^o KEAR. 
 
 XII. 
 
 " One is the source of day, loskeha, 
 Who dwelleth ever in eternal light ; 
 The other darkness, named Tavviscara, 
 Whose habitation is eternal night. 
 
 - These all our good or evil deeds incite, 
 And o'er our tribes for mastery contend. 
 All those who with loskeha unite 
 Attain a glory that shall never end. 
 
 And when this life is past, unto the sun ascend. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 *'My counsel is — and thou art now invited — 
 To join with us, tribes of loskeha. 
 We are five mighty nations, all united 
 And known as one, — Oneida, Seneca, 
 Cayuga, Mohawk, and Onondaga. 
 Unto the latter' s chief thy daughter give, — 
 And none is nobler than young Grangula. 
 Thus joined as one great nation will we live, 
 And all our mutual wrongs and injuries forgive. 
 
KEAR. 
 
 XIV.. 
 
 151 
 
 Then gravely' spoke a pale-faced Cherokee, 
 Whose totem was a cross he held on high, — 
 An aged prophet of the Tennessee, 
 Who, on a mountain dwelling near the sky, 
 And standing face to face with Hushtoli, 
 The Eldest of the winds, in darkness heard 
 From lips unseen the voice of prophecy. 
 " Oneida's seer," he said, " is wise in word, 
 But hath, interpreting tradition, greatly erred. 
 
 XV. 
 
 'H^fot from the Light, but from the frozen North 
 Kabibonokka's children, cruel, wary. 
 The fierce Oneida nations have come forth. 
 
 . Foes of Algonquin tribes traditionary, 
 Unto themselves to make us tributary 
 They seek, or otherwise our race destroy. 
 Give not thy daughter to our adversary. 
 If thou wouldst still thy liberty enjoy, 
 
 But to our noble chief, the youthful, brave Motoy. 
 
152 REAR. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 '*Look on this symbol unto me transmitted," — 
 Holding the cross placed horizontally, — 
 ''As these two bars are to each other fitted 
 And joined in one, so may our people be 
 United, — two great tribes in unity. 
 And pointing whence the four great tempests blow. 
 It is the symbol of Great Hushtoli, 
 The Master of all breath : and thus doth show 
 Whence breath and life have come, and whither they 
 will go. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 '' Our tribe came whence the morning dawns, and 
 
 goeth 
 Whither the sun at night doth find its rest. 
 We follow on its path of light, as showeth 
 Our sacred symbol pointing to the West. 
 That all must join with us is manifest. 
 Who journey towards the Happy Hunting-Grounds, 
 Seeking to reach the wigwams of the blest, 
 Where all is peace and only pleasant sounds 
 Are heard in forests ever green, and game abounds." 
 
KEAR. 153 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 Next spoke, dressed in bright robes of blue and red, 
 One of gigantic form, a Seminole, 
 Both king and jossakeed : " Great Tamaned, 
 My answer to your questions is this scroll 
 Which now before this council I unroll. 
 This is the symbol of all mysteries. 
 Transmitted through our prophets from the Soul 
 Who came to us descending from the skies. 
 And in the Fount of Youth our nation did baptize. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 *' Ours IS the land of flowers. There is no mountain 
 Up which our feet must toil to reach the sky ; 
 But hidden in our forests is a fountain 
 Whose waters from diseases purify 
 Our bodies, and a secret life supply 
 Unto our spirits. All who bathe therein, 
 And dwell in peace, will when their bodies die, 
 Renewed in life and cleansed from all their sin. 
 Though like thyself grown old, eternal youth begin." 
 
1^4 KEAK. 
 
 XX. 
 
 A Shawanese physician, very old, 
 III garb fantastic of his wandering nation, 
 Aloft his Bag of Mystery did hold. 
 And with closed eyes and wild gesticulation. 
 Long in strange words and muttered incantation 
 Addressed the council. This, he said in brief, 
 Contained the secrets of all divination, 
 Whereby he brought good luck and from all grief. 
 Diseases, pains, and evil spirits, gave relief. 
 
 XXI. 
 
 The Bashaba, whose totem was a snake, 
 Fashioned to represent his mystic stream. 
 The Serpent River, Kennebeck, thus spake: 
 " Great chief, I dwell upon the earth's extreme. 
 Where first the rays of morning sunshine gleam. 
 There came the Mighty Serpent, the wise giver 
 Of life. Great Onniont, o'er all supreme. 
 Upon whose trail doth flow our sacred river. 
 Which is the symbol of all truth and life forever. 
 
REAR. 155 
 
 XXII. 
 
 "His hissings in our pines and 'mid the dashings 
 Of rushing streams we hear; and we behold, 
 Seen in his wrath, in the forked lightning's flashings 
 Upon the storm-cloud, his bright hue of gold. 
 The sky itself, he doth all things enfold 
 Within his glittering coils. All who would rise 
 Unto the Happy Hunting-Grounds must hold 
 This symbol in their hands before his eyes ; 
 For o'er his body is our pathway to the skies." 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 Subtle in counsel, graceful, eloquent, 
 Next spoke the Huron chief Adario : 
 "The counsels of two pale-faced prophets, sent 
 From o'er the seas by their Good Manito 
 To save our race from sin and death, I show. 
 They call him God, say that he lives in heaven, — 
 The sky, the place where happy spirits go, — 
 And that to all who in this life have striven 
 To do his will, wigwams of gold will there be given. 
 
156 
 
 KEAR. 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 '' He wills that all our tribes should live in peace, 
 Not only with the pale-face but each other; 
 That we henceforth from cruelties should cease, 
 And should our thirst for blood and vengeance 
 
 smother, — 
 Not hating more, but loving one another. 
 And further that he gave his only Son, 
 Whom they call Jesus Christ, to be our Brother 
 And Saviour from our sins, and who alone. 
 Dying that we might live, did for our sins atone. 
 
 XXV. 
 
 " Now therefore, whether this be false or true, 
 My counsel is that we unite with Christ ; 
 For countless are his people, ours but few. 
 It were but vain his numbers to resist ; 
 Nor henceforth can our people long exist, 
 Excepting Christ shall have become our friend. 
 All our traditions are now hid in mist ; 
 Nor to our cries doth the Great Spirit lend 
 His ear, nor us from our great enemy defend." 
 
KEAR. 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 157 
 
 up sprung Pometacom, the fiery chief 
 Of Wampanoag, who had sat erewhile 
 In silence brooding o'er his mighty grief. 
 Nor had he seemed to listen till a smile 
 Of bitter scorn, that one would reconcile 
 Him to his enemy, passed o'er his face. 
 Fiercely he spoke : *' Thy heart is full of guile, 
 Adario, that thou dost counsel peace 
 With those who would our tribes to servitude abase. 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 ''With lying lips these pale-faced prophets speak. 
 Thinkst thou they care so much the souls to save 
 Of those whose hunting-grounds they steal, and 
 
 make 
 Of every captive won a toiling slave? 
 If their Good Manito his Son e'er gave, 
 Why have they slain this Saviour whom they preach ? 
 And if they love him now and truly crave 
 Our good, first let them their own race beseech 
 To do as they would have us do, as Christ did teach. 
 
 14 
 
1=^8 KEAR. 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 " Give ear unto the story of my wrong, 
 Great father of the Lenni-Lenapes, — 
 At thought of which the hot blood leaps along 
 My veins as lightning flame. Beyond the seas, 
 Ne'er to return, our pale-faced enemies 
 Have sold my wife and child in slavery. 
 Can aught but blood such grief as mine appease? 
 For vengeance ever will my spirit cry, 
 And my sole joy shall be to see the pale-face die. 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 ." Neither can Jesus Christ nor any other 
 Blot out such wrongs as ours except in blood. 
 No doubt our thirst for vengeance they would 
 
 smother, 
 And preach to us of peace and brotherhood. 
 Till as Adario they have subdued 
 Each chief, and made of him a cringing slave. 
 None but a melted heart would e'er elude 
 Death by submission to his wrong, or crave 
 For peace till hate and vengeance slumber in the grave. 
 
KEAR. 159 
 
 XXX. 
 
 ''If the Great Spirit doth no longer lend 
 His ear unto our cries, and seems to sleep, 
 'Tis that we have not spirit to defend 
 Our hunting-grounds, and will no longer keep 
 The great traditions of his counsels deep. 
 O brothers ! homeless on the storm-swept shore 
 Of the Great Sea, alone I sit and weep, — 
 And seem to hear afar, above the roar 
 Of waves, the cries of those who will return no more. 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 "If we must perish, as I fear we must, 
 Great Oki grant we perish not in shame. 
 And though our bodies moulder into dust, 
 Grant that there still survive the ancient flame, 
 Once kindled in our breasts by fire that came 
 From heaven, and in thy burning spirit live. 
 Let not this base reproach rest on our name. 
 That we would e'er such wrongs as ours forgive. 
 Or would with melting hearts our liberties survive. 
 
i6o KEAR, 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 '•'■ I counsel war. Brothers arouse ! and whether 
 We live or die, let vengeance never cease. 
 Let all who would be free unite together 
 In ceaseless conflict with this hated race, 
 Deeming alike each chief that counsels peace 
 Or would submit, our mortal enemy. 
 Then Oki will no longer hide his face. 
 Nor deem our fainting prayers but mockery, — 
 Knowing that we as slaves will ne'er submit to be.' 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 While he was speaking thus, tumultuous, 
 Fiercely athirst for blood, the council grew ; 
 And all who followed were unanimous 
 For war, until the white-robed prophet threw 
 His mantle back, revealing to their view 
 A youthful face of such strange gravity 
 And wondrous sweetness, that at once anew 
 All became grave, and listened eagerly 
 To hear what might the counsels of this prophet be. 
 
REAR. i6i 
 
 XXXIV. 
 
 *' Great father, I, thy messenger, if thou 
 Thy ear unto my message deignst to lend, 
 Will show to thee and to this council how 
 We may avenge our wrongs, our rights defend, 
 And when we die unto the sun ascend. 
 Once by thy blood I would for hate atone, 
 Yet through a hopeless love became thy friend 
 And messenger. Behold in me the son 
 Of the great chief whom thou didst slay, — the Heart 
 of Stone ! 
 
 XXXV. 
 
 " While yet a boy I promised to avenge 
 My father's blood, and have my promise kept, — 
 Though in a way perhaps thou may'st deem strange. 
 Into thy wigwam where beside thee slept 
 Thy daughter, then a child, I ofttimes crept 
 Athirst for blood \ but her sweet face upturned 
 To mine seemed to beseech — and once she wept — 
 Thy life to spare ; and though my spirit burned 
 For vengeance, more my heart for love and mercy 
 yearned. 
 
 14* 
 
1 62 KEAR. 
 
 XXXVI. 
 
 "Thus love and hate struggled for mastery 
 Within my breast till there appeared in sight, 
 From Oki's burning spirit sent to me, 
 A joyous, white-winged messenger of light. 
 Who on my scowling visage glancing bright, 
 Though first repulsed, this wondrous promise brought 
 'If thou canst give without return, — requite 
 Evil with good, — thou shalt at last be taught 
 All wisdom and attain the highest glory sought.' 
 
 xxxvii. 
 
 ''Though thirsting for revenge, and though my love 
 Thy daughter did despise, I yet obeyed 
 The white-winged messenger, and thenceforth strove 
 Both to forgive and be forgiven, and prayed 
 That I a messenger of peace be made 
 To thee and to our race. Now, therefore, let 
 Me make this restitution, long delayed, — 
 Thy bloodless scalp-lock, — which annuls thy debt 
 Of life for life, and which I pray thee to forget. 
 
KEAR. 163 
 
 XXXVIII. 
 
 ''And as I may not more thy daughter meet, 
 Restore this rose-bud to her hand from me, 
 Which I once stole therefrom. Withered but sweet 
 It still remains, as e'er in constancy — 
 Despised but loving still — my love shall be. 
 O brothers ! if ye can forgive, then each 
 May blot out all his grief and injury. 
 For this alike our great traditions teach, 
 And also Jesus Christ, whom pale-faced prophets preach. 
 
 XXXIX. 
 
 '' Peace cannot be except that we forgive. 
 Nor wrong for wrong, nor hate for hate atone. 
 Blood cannot blood efface, nor glory live 
 That through another's grief or shame is won. 
 If in loskeha our life begun. 
 Then should we live as children of the light. 
 And give without return, as doth the sun. 
 But all who with Tawiscara unite. 
 Returning wrong for wrong, will dwell in endless night. 
 
164 
 
 KEAR. 
 
 XL. 
 
 '' Glory or gain, sought through each other's loss, 
 Is vain ; for all are one, and One is All, 
 As shows the. wondrous symbol of the cross. 
 And though our guiding spirits we may call 
 By differing names, from one Original 
 We all have sprung ; of whom the cross — as are 
 All men, stars, trees, and winds— is typical. 
 And if we would his life and glory share. 
 We must be one in him, and hate and wrong forbear. 
 
 XLI. 
 
 *'He is the Serpent, symbol of all truth, 
 Who holds the earth, the sun, and stars within 
 His glittering coils ; the Fountain of our youth. 
 Wherein we cleanse our souls from shame and sin. 
 And when we die eternal youth begin. 
 To none who heed his counsels is he deaf, — 
 God, Hushtoli, the mighty Medicine 
 Who heals all wounds, from wrong doth give relief. 
 Restores the loved and lost, and bringeth joy from grief. 
 
KEAR. 165 
 
 XLII. 
 
 ^' Forget not these traditions of our sires, 
 The men original, whose spirits, flung 
 As glowing sparks from the eternal fires 
 That light the sun and stars, came down among 
 Tne beasts from which our mortal natures sprung, 
 Transforming wolves to men, — our noble race. 
 The flame thus kindled when our tribes were young 
 Is wellnigh quenched in blood. Strive to efface 
 The wolfish thirst, and dwell in brotherhood and peace. 
 
 XLIII. 
 
 '' For well I know no spirit can return 
 Unto the source from which all spirits came. 
 With whom our fathers' fires have ceased to burn ; 
 Who deeming glory what is only shame, 
 Howe'er so great may be his earthly name, 
 Would come to Oki's wigwam stained with blood. 
 He only who rekindles the lost flame, 
 And of both friends and foes doth seek the good, 
 May enter Oki's home of peace and brotherhood. 
 
1 66 KEAR. 
 
 XLIV. 
 
 " I counsel peace. O great Pometacom, 
 Though here on earth thy tears cease not to flow, 
 Though great thy wrong and desolate thy home, 
 Thou may'st bring perfect joy from out thy woe, 
 And gain a lasting triumph o'er thy foe. 
 If thou canst but forgive, thou wilt attain 
 A deathless glory. Oki will bestow 
 A wigwam in the sun, where free from pain 
 Thou wilt e'er dwell, and meet thy wife and child 
 again. 
 
 XLV. 
 
 '' Strive for this deathless glory ! Though we perish 
 
 From off the earth, yet may we live forever. 
 
 If we our great traditions henceforth cherish, 
 
 And let not grief nor hate our life dissever 
 
 From Oki's living spirit ; if we never 
 
 Would blot out wrong with wrong, nor blood with 
 
 blood, 
 Returning good for evil, and endeavor 
 To live henceforth in peace and brotherhood, 
 From darkness light will come at last, from evil good." 
 
REAR, 167 
 
 XLVI. 
 
 None make response. Intent the council's members, 
 
 • Awaiting Tamaned's decision, gaze 
 With gloomy faces on the smoking embers 
 Of the expiring flame. First he doth raise 
 His hands aloft, and Oki's spirit prays 
 His shame be blotted out and glories past ; 
 May pass in peace his few remaining days. 
 And reach the Happy Hunting-Grounds at last. 
 
 Now in the fire his pictured belt and vest doth cast. 
 
 XLVII. 
 
 " Bring hither, Ottokee, my scalp-locks gory, 
 My weapons, too, and cast them in the fire. 
 Perish each symbol of my earthly glory. 
 Ere yet my life shall as this flame expire. 
 For better than arrayed in such attire, 
 Naked in Oki's presence I should stand. 
 And than I leave behind aught to inspire 
 The wolfish thirst, I would from out the land 
 My deeds be blotted all as footsteps in the sand.' 
 
1 68 KEAR. 
 
 XLVIII. 
 
 Then turning to the council, he thus speaks: 
 "Brothers, ye've heard the story of my shame. 
 This white-robed prophet coming hither wreaks, 
 Returning me my scalp-lock, on my name 
 Contempt, and all my deeds of fame. 
 Vain is the glory for which we have striven, 
 And vain the deeds which warriors' breasts inflame, 
 If thus through love and mercy we are driven 
 To count as friends the foes who have our debts 
 forgiven. 
 
 XLIX. 
 
 ''If in forgiveness there exist the power 
 To make but shame the glories we have won 
 Through blood and conquest, let us from this hour 
 Forgive our foes the injuries they have done, 
 And thus with love for wrongs and griefs atone. 
 I give the prize unto this white-robed seer, — 
 O Nepanet, my foe, my friend, my son ! 
 My wisest counsellor thou dost appear ; 
 Prophet of peace to all, — henceforth thy name is Kear / 
 
KEAR. 169 
 
 " But though I give thou may'st not here receive, 
 And to thy wigwam lead the beauteous prize ; 
 For that thou cam'st not back she long did grieve, 
 And watched for thy return with sorrowing eyes ; 
 And though for peace a willing sacrifice. 
 She could not wait, but deeming thou hadst gone 
 Ne'er to return, she sought thee in the skies. 
 Yet she is thine, and when thy work is done, 
 Thou'lt meet and lead her to thy wigwam in the sun.' 
 
 My eyes grow dim, and mute the hidden string. 
 In seeming shadows now my visions fade. 
 The fountains and the merry twittering 
 Of waking birds within the sylvan shade. 
 With outward life my secret bower pervade. 
 Behold the morning dawns ! From peaks descending, 
 Aglow with light, into each mountain glade. 
 And slowly with the magic moonlight blending. 
 It hides the life that was, and is, and knows no ending. 
 
 15 
 
lyo KEAR. 
 
 And thus, O Jesus, would I hide in thee 
 My secret life ; and though with faltering feet 
 I follow thee, and linger wearily, — 
 So long deferred thy promise, — yet 'tis sweet 
 To live my humble mission to complete. 
 And though my way be lonely and obscure, 
 If but one soul in sympathy should greet 
 My lowly strain, I may henceforth endure 
 Reproach with secret joy, and count thy promise sure. 
 
 THE END. 
 
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