196 JOHN H. BRYANT. [1830-40. The red deer in the shade Shall fall before our aim, And at eventide shall our feast be made From the flesh of the bison's frame. And when our feast is done, And the twilight sinks away, We will talk of the deeds of the days that are gone, And the friends that are far away. We heed not the burning sun, Nor the plain winds wild and bleak, And the driving rain will beat in vain On the emigrant's hardened cheek. Still onward, day by day, O'er the vast and desolate plain, With resolute hearts we plod our way, Till our distant home we gain. And when at last we stand On the wild Nevada's side. We'll look afar o'er the lovely land And the heaving ocean's tide. Of the past we'll think no more, When our journey's end is won. And we'll build our house by the rocky shore Of the mighty Oregon. SENATCHWINE'S GRAVE.* He sleeps beneath the spreading shade, Where woods and wide savannas meet, Where sloping hills around have made A quiet valley, green and sweet.
- Twelve or fifteen years since, Senatchwine was an em-
inent chief of the tribe of Pottawatomies, in Illinois, enjoying more influence and a greater reputation for tal- ents than any other. The Indian traders, who knew him well, say that he was a truly great man, an orator, and a ■warrior. He died at an advanced age, in the year 1830. and was buried by a small .stream which bears his name, and which runs through the south-eastern part of Bui-oau county. His hunting-grounds are in that vicinity. The circumstance alluded to in the line — A stream that bears his name and flows In glimmering gushes from the west, Makes a hght murmur as it goes Beside his lonely place of rest. And here the silken blue-grass springs, Low bending with the morning dew ; The red-bird in the thicket sings. And blossoms nod of various hue. Oh, spare his rest ! oh, level not The trees whose boughs above it play. Nor break the turf that clothes the spot. Nor clog the rivulet's winding way. For he was of unblenching eye, Honoi'ed in youth, revered in age, Of princely port and bearing high. And brave, and eloquent, and sage. Ah ! scorn not that a tawny skin Wrapped his strong hmbs and ample breast : A noble soul was throned within. As the pale Saxon e'er possessed. Beyond the broad Atlantic deep, In mausoleums rich and vast. Earth's early kings and heroes sleep, Waiting the angel's trumpet-blast. As proud in form and mien was he Who sleeps beneath this verdant sod. And shadowed forth as gloriously The image of the eternal God. Theirs is the monumental pile, With lofty titles graved on stone, " And here the .silken blue-grass springs," — is familar to the western people, who have a proverbial saying that the blue-grass springs up wherever an Indian foot has stepped. Though this may not be literally true, yet it is cert^iin that the blue-grass is always found grow- ing where the Indians have encamped, though it might have been only for a few days. This kind of grass makes a soft and rich turf, thick with blades, in which respect it is very different from the common coarse grass of the prairies. [This note u-as written in 1S45.]
