Jump to content

Poems, Sacred and Moral/The Dying Indian: an Ode

From Wikisource
4604620Poems, Sacred and Moral — The Dying Indian: an OdeThomas Gisborne

THE

DYING INDIAN:

AN ODE.

PREFACE.



An American Indian, when captured in war by savages of another tribe, is commonly tortured to death by fire. In that case, after previously enduring much barbarous usage, he is finally fastened to the flake; and sings, while burning, his death song. The general tenor of the death-songs may appear by the following extracts from Carver's Travels into the interior parts of North America, 2d edit. p. 337—341.

"The prisoners destined to death are soon led to the place of execution, which is generally in the centre of the camp or village; where, being stripped, and every part of their body blackened, the skin of a crow or raven is fixed on their heads. They are then bound to a stake with faggots heaped around them; and obliged, for the last time, to sing their death-song. The warriors, for such it is only who commonly suffer this punishment, now perform in a more prolix manner this sad solemnity. They recount, with an audible voice, all the brave actions they have performed; and pride themselves in the number of enemies they have killed. In this rehearsal they spare not even their tormentors; but strive, by every provoking tale they can invent, to irritate and insult them."

"An Indian, who was under the hands of his tormentors, had the audacity to tell them, that they were ignorant old women, and did not know how to put brave prisoners to death. He acquainted them that he had heretofore taken some of their warriors; and instead of the trivial punishments they had inflicted on him, he had devised for them the most excruciating torments: that, having bound them to a stake, he had stuck their bodies full of sharp splinters of turpentine wood, to which he then set fire; and dancing around them, enjoyed the agonizing pangs of the flaming victims."—

Of another Indian, tortured to death in his presence, he speaks thus: "During this time he sung his warlike exploits. He recapitulated every stratagem he had made use of to surprise his enemies: he boasted of the quantity of scalps he possessed; and enumerated the prisoners he had taken. He then described the different barbarous methods by which he had put them to death; and seemed even then to receive inconceivable pleasure from the recital of the horrid tale. But he dwelt more particularly on the cruelties he had practised on such of the kindred of his present tormentors as had fallen into his hands: endeavouring by these aggravated insults to induce them to increase his torments, that he might be able to give greater proofs of fortitude. Even in the last struggles of life, when he was no longer able to vent in words the indignant provocation his tongue would have uttered, a smile of mingled scorn and triumph sat on his countenance."—

The Indian ideas of futurity are thus described. "They doubt not but they shall exist in some future state. They however fancy that their employments there will be similar to those they are engaged in here, without the labour and difficulty annexed to them in this period of their existence. They consequently expect to be translated to a delightful country, where they shall always have a clear unclouded sky, and enjoy a perpetual spring; where the forests will abound with game, and the lakes with fish, which might be taken without requiring a painful exertion of skill, or a laborious pursuit.—But they expect that these pleasures will be proportioned and distributed according to their merit. The skilful hunter, the bold and successful warrior, will be entitled to a greater share, than those who, through indolence or want of skill, cannot boast of any superiority over the common herd." (Ibid.)

THE

DYING INDIAN:

AN ODE.



I. 1."Why pause before I burn?"Your torments I defy!"Convoke your chiefs, from me to learn"How Mohawk Warriors die."Impatient torture hail'd the morn:The stake was rear'd, the captive bound:The smouldering faggot slowly blaz'd.Age and youth assembled roundWith taunting aspect gazed;While thus, retorting scorn for scorn,The song of death he raised.
I. 2."Pale at the sight of blood,"Ye Women-Chiefs, go hunt some helpless prey!"Lurk for the marten, traps for fables lay,"Or spear the beaver plunging in the flood:"But, Cowards, well beware"The wolf or rugged bear!"Vilest of the Indian name,"Children, that tremble at a Mohawk's frown;"Unskill'd with glorious pangs to crown"The dying Warrior's fame!
I. 3."Is this your vaunted art?"Is this to act the Torturer's part?"Go, rival a Mosquito's smart!"Your bravest chiefs of yore"I seized: their flesh my burning pincers tore."Round them I wove the glowing cane:"Red splinters pierced each hissing vein: "While from my back, in bloody triumph hung,"Scalps of their slaughter'd brethren swung."The Woods return'd their moan."I watch'd the writhing limb,"Saw the rack'd eyeball swim,"And laugh'd at every groan!
II. 1."Prepare to meet their fate."See Mohawk vengeance rise!"Your race I doom to Mohawk hate!"Lo, swift as lightning flies,"My sons your sculking wiles have cross'd:"The wood they scour, the swamp, the glen:"I see the shortlived fray!"Wood and hill and trackless fen"Echo your wild dismay."Cowards! your scorched bones are toss'd"Of Mohawk dogs the prey.
II. 2."Behind yon mountains blue,"Clear to the valiant, to the coward's eye"Hung, a dim vapour, in the distant sky,"My fires the chase renew;"And scenes of martial deed,"The dauntless Warrior's meed."There they mark your servile race"To women's toils, the coward's doom, consign'd"My Sires! I come: we mount the wind,"And scoff at their disgrace!"
II. 3.He spoke, he laugh'd, he died."Hail, my unequall'd Son," said Pride."Not so;" a voice from Heaven replied."Is He the truly brave,"Victor of pain, but thine and passion's slave? "His holy head see Stephen bow:"See meekness calm his angel brow[1]."Around see Malice scowl, see Vengeance glare[2];"See Rage the murderous stones prepare;"And Saul the garments keep."Hark!—'Lord, their sin forgive!'My spirit, Lord, receive!—'"He spake, and fell asleep."