1830-40.] WILLIAM D. GALLAGHER, 141 The Mothers of our Forest-Land ! Thej sleep in unknown graves : And had they borne and nursed a band Of ingrates, or of slaves, They had not been more neglected ! But their graves shall yet be found. And their monuments dot here and there " The Dark and Bloody Ground." SONG OF THE PIONEERS. A SONG for the early times out West, And our green old forest home. Whose pleasant memories freslily yet Across the bosom come : A song for the free and gladsome life, In those early days we led, With a teeming soil beneath our feet, And a smihng Heav'n o'erhead ! Oh, the waves of life danced merrily, And had a joyous flow. In the days when we were Pioneers, Fifty years ago ! The hunt, the shot, the glorious chase. The captur'd elk, or deer ; The camp, the big, bright fire, and then The rich and wholesome cheer : — The sweet, sound sleep, at dead of night. By our camp-fire, blazing high — Unbroken by the wolf's long howl. And the panther springing by. Oh, merrily pass'd the time, despite Our wily Indian foe. In the days when we were Pioneers, Fifty years ago ! We shunn'd not labor : when 'twas due We wrought with right good will ; And for the homes we won for them, Our children bless us still. We lived not hermit lives, but oft In social converse met; And fires of love were kindled then. That burn on warmly yet. Oh, pleasantly the stream of life Pursued its constant flow, In the days when we were Pioneers, Fifty years ago ! We felt that we were fellow-men ; We felt we were a band, Sustain'd here in the wilderness By Heaven's upholding hand. And when the solemn Sabbath came, We gathered in the wood. And lifted up our hearts in prayer To God, the only Good. Our temples then were earth and sky ; None others did we know. In the days when we were Pioneers, Fifty years ago ! Our forest life was rough and rude. And dangers clos'd us round ; But here, amid the green old trees, Freedom was sought and found. Oft through our dwellings wint'ry blasts Would rush with shriek and moan ; We cared not — though they were but frail, We felt they were our own ! Oh, free and manly Uves we led, Mid verdure, or mid snow. In the days when we were Pioneers, Fifty years ago ! But now our course of life is short ; And as, from day to day, We're walking on with halting step. And fainting by the way. Another Land more bright than this. To our dim sight appears. And on our w^ay to it we'll soon Again be pioneers ! Yet while we linger, we may all A backward glance still throw, To the days when we were Pioneers, Fifty years ago !
