The Death of Tecumseh

To pale maid fair, or lights her dreams,
Forth at the peal each charger sped,
He yet revealed a symmetry
The hard earth shook beneath their tread
Had charmed the Grecian sculptor's eye, —
The dim woods, all around them spread,
A massive brow, a kindled face,
Shone with their armor's light:
Limbs chiseled to a faultless grace,
Yet in those stern, still lines, assailed,
Beauty and strength in every feature,
No eye-ball shrunk, no bosom quailed,
While in his eyes there lived the light
No foot was turned for flight;
Of a great soul's transcendant might —
But, thundering as their foemen came,
Hereditary lord by nature!
Each rifle flashed its deadly flame.
As stood he there, the stern, unmoved,
A moment, then recoil and rout,
Except his eagle glance that roved,
With reeling horse and struggling shout,
And darkly limned against the sky
Confused that onset fair;
Upon that mound so lone and high,
But, rallying each dark steed once more,
He looked the sculptured god of wars,
Like billows borne the low reefs o'er,
Great Odin, or Egyptian Mars,
With foamy crests in air,
By crafty hand, from dusky stone,
Right on and over them they bore,
Immortal wrought in ages gone,
With gun and bayonet thrust before,
And on some silent desert cast,
And swift swords brandish'd bare.
Memorial of the mighty Past.
Then madly was the conflict waged,
And yet, though firm, though proud his glance,
Then terribly red Slaughter raged!
There was upon his countenance
How still is yet yon dense morass
That settled shade which, oft in life,
The bloody sun below!
Mounts upward from the spirit's strife,
Where'er yon chosen horsemen pass
As if upon his soul there lay
There stirs no bough nor blade of grass,
Some grief which would not pass away.
There moves no secret foe!...
The other's lineaments and air
Sudden from tree and thicket green,
Revealed him plainly brother born
From trunk and mound and bushy screen,
Of him, who on that summit bare
Sharp lightning flashed with instant sheen,
So sad, yet proudly, met the morn:
A thousand death-bolts sung!
But, lighter built, his slender frame
Like ripened fruit before the blast,
Far less of grace, as strength, could claim;
Rider and horse to earth were cast,
And, with an eye that, sharp and fierce,
Its miry roots among;
Would seem the gazer's breast to pierce,
Then wild — as if that earth were riven,
And lowering visage, all the while
And, pour'd beneath the cope of heaven,
Inwrought of subtlety and guile,
All hell to upper air were given —
Whose every glance, that darkly stole,
One fearful whoop was rung....
Bespoke the crafty cruel soul.
Then loud the crash of arms arose,
There was from all his presence shed
As when two forest whirlwinds close;
A power — a chill mysterious dread —
Then filled all heaven their shout and yell,
Which made him of those beings seem,
As if the forests on them fell!
That shake us in the midnight dream.
I see, where swells the thickest fight,
Yet were his features, too, o'ercast
With sword and hatchet brandish'd bright,
With mournfulness, as if the past
And rifles flashing sulphurous light
Had been one vigil, painful, deep and long
Through green leaves gleaming red —
Of hushed Revenge still brooding over wrong.
I see a plume, now near, now far,
No word was said: but long they stood,
Now high, now low, like falling star
And side by side, in thoughtful mood,
Wide waving o'er the tide of war,
Watched the great curtains of the mist
Where'er the onslaught's led.. ..
Up from the mighty landscape move;
Above the struggling storm I hear
'T was surely spirit-hands, they wist,
A lofty voice the war-bands cheer —
Did lift them from above.
Still, as they quail with doubt or fear,
And when, unveiled to them alone
Yet loud and louder given —
The solitary world was shown,
And, rallying to the clarion cry,
And dew from all the mound's green sod
With club and red axe raging high,
Rose, like an incense, up to God,
And sharp knives sheathing low,
Reclined, yet silent still, they bent
Fast back again, confusedly,
Their eyes on heaven's deep firmament —
They drive the staggering foe.