1851.]
A DESCRIPTION OF JAVITA.
177
Lie hid, o'ershadow'd by th' eternal woods,
And trickle onwards,—these to increase the wave
Of turbid Orinooko; those, by a longer course
In the Black River's isle-strewn bed, flow down
To mighty Amazon, the river-king,
And, mingled with his all-engulfing stream,
Go to do battle with proud Ocean's self,
And drive him back even from his own domain,
There is an Indian village; all around,
The dark, eternal, boundless forest spreads
Its varied foliage. Stately palm-trees rise
On every side, and numerous trees unknown
Save by strange names uncouth to English ears.
Here I dwelt awhile the one white man
Among perhaps two hundred living souls.
They pass a peaceful and contented life,
These black-hair'd, red-skinn'd, handsome, half-wild men.
Directed by the sons of Old Castile,
They keep their village and their houses clean;
And on the eve before the Sabbath-day
Assemble all at summons of a bell,
To sweep within and all around their church,
In which next morn they meet, all neatly dress'd,
To pray as they've been taught unto their God.
It was a pleasing sight, that Sabbath morn,
Reminding me of distant, dear-loved home.
On one side knelt the men, their simple dress
A shirt and trousers of coarse cotton cloth:
On the other side were women and young girls,
Their glossy tresses braided with much taste,
And on their necks all wore a kerchief gay,
And some a knot of riband in their hair.
How like they look'd, save in their dusky skin,
To a fair group of English village maids!
Yet far superior in their graceful forms;
For their free growth no straps or bands impede,
But simple food, free air, and daily baths
And exercise, give all that Nature asks
To mould a beautiful and healthy frame.
And trickle onwards,—these to increase the wave
Of turbid Orinooko; those, by a longer course
In the Black River's isle-strewn bed, flow down
To mighty Amazon, the river-king,
And, mingled with his all-engulfing stream,
Go to do battle with proud Ocean's self,
And drive him back even from his own domain,
There is an Indian village; all around,
The dark, eternal, boundless forest spreads
Its varied foliage. Stately palm-trees rise
On every side, and numerous trees unknown
Save by strange names uncouth to English ears.
Here I dwelt awhile the one white man
Among perhaps two hundred living souls.
They pass a peaceful and contented life,
These black-hair'd, red-skinn'd, handsome, half-wild men.
Directed by the sons of Old Castile,
They keep their village and their houses clean;
And on the eve before the Sabbath-day
Assemble all at summons of a bell,
To sweep within and all around their church,
In which next morn they meet, all neatly dress'd,
To pray as they've been taught unto their God.
It was a pleasing sight, that Sabbath morn,
Reminding me of distant, dear-loved home.
On one side knelt the men, their simple dress
A shirt and trousers of coarse cotton cloth:
On the other side were women and young girls,
Their glossy tresses braided with much taste,
And on their necks all wore a kerchief gay,
And some a knot of riband in their hair.
How like they look'd, save in their dusky skin,
To a fair group of English village maids!
Yet far superior in their graceful forms;
For their free growth no straps or bands impede,
But simple food, free air, and daily baths
And exercise, give all that Nature asks
To mould a beautiful and healthy frame.
"Each day some labour calls them. Now they go
To fell the forest's pride, or in canoe
With hook, and spear, and arrow, to catch fish;
Or seek the various products of the wood,
To make their baskets or their hanging beds.
The women dig the mandiocca root,
And with much labour make of it their bread.
These plant the young shoots in the fertile earth—
Earth all untill'd, to which the plough, or spade,
Or rake, or harrow, are alike unknown.
To fell the forest's pride, or in canoe
With hook, and spear, and arrow, to catch fish;
Or seek the various products of the wood,
To make their baskets or their hanging beds.
The women dig the mandiocca root,
And with much labour make of it their bread.
These plant the young shoots in the fertile earth—
Earth all untill'd, to which the plough, or spade,
Or rake, or harrow, are alike unknown.
