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THE SEMINOLE'S DEFIANCE

G. W. PATTEN

HE last century was styled "a century of dishonor" because of the white man's treatment of the Indian. The writer derived his knowledge of Indian character from personal contact and experience as a soldier in the Seminole War. The sentiments of this poem might easily be imagined to be those of the indomitable Seminole chief, Osceola, who was captured by treachery while conferring under a flag of truce, and whose proud, defiant spirit remained unconquered through cruel imprisonment even unto death. In this imagined "defiance" of the Seminole chief we may find the spirit and character of the conquered race as understood, interpreted, and respected by a soldier of the whites.

THE SEMINOLE'S DEFIANCE

Blaze, with your serried columns !
I will not bend the knee!

The shackles ne'er again shall bind
The arm which now is free.
I've mailed it with the thunder,
When the tempest muttered low;
And where it falls, ye well may dread
The lightning of its blow!

I've scared ye in the city,

I've scalped ye on the plain;

Go, count your chosen where they fell
Beneath my leaden rain!

THE SEMINOLE'S DEFIANCE 201

I scorn your proffered treaty!

The pale-face I defy!

Revenge is stamped upon my spear,

And "blood" my battle-cry!

Some strike for hope of booty;
Some to defend their all;
I battle for the joy I have
To see the white man fall;
I love, among the wounded,
To hear his dying moan,

And catch, while chanting at his side,
The music of his groan.

Ye've trailed me through the forest!
Ye've tracked me o'er the stream!
And, struggling through the Everglade,
Your bristling bayonets gleam;
But I stand as should the warrior,
With his rifle and his spear;
The scalp of vengeance still is red,
And warns ye, come not here!

Think ye to find my homestead?-
I gave it to the fire.

My tawny household do you seek?—

I am a childless sire.

But, should you crave life's nourishment,
Enough I have and good;

I live on hate,-'tis all my bread;
Yet light is not my food.

I loathe ye

in my bosom!

I scorn ye with mine eye!

And I'll taunt ye with my latest breath,

And fight ye till I die!

I ne'er will ask for quarter,

And I ne'er will be your slave; But I'll swim the sea of slaughter Till I sink beneath its wave!

SUGGESTIVE EXERCISES

1. Read the history of the Seminole War. What personal cause had Osceola for defiance, as hinted in the first stanza?

2. What is the meaning of "mailed it with the thunder"? 3. What clear hints of Indian methods of warfare are given? 4. What striking characteristics of Indian nature are given in the third stanza?

5. What is the feeling of the Indian toward the whites?

6. What causes had he to feel thus?

7. Select the expressions which indicate the unconquerable spirit of the Indian race.

8. What in this type of being unfits him to build up a highly developed civilization?

9. How many of these traits of character were strengthened by the white man's treatment of the Indian?

10. For what is this poem chiefly valuable?

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REFERENCES

SPRAGUE: Fate of the Indians.

BRYANT: The African Chief.

SCOTT: Marmion and Douglas. (From Marmion.)

WHITTIER: Toussaint L'Ouverture.

HUNTER: The Indian's Death Song.

ERNEST MCGAFFEY: Geronimo.

LAVINIA STODDARD: The Soul's Defiance.

SARAH WILLIAMS: Omar and the Persian.
FRENEAU: The Indian's Burial Ground.

THE SKYLARK

JAMES HOGG

O bird has been the recipient of so many songs

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of beauty and tenderness as the English skylark. The habits and song of this bird are such as naturally attract the attention of poets. As it rises from the ground its song is somewhat broken, but as it mounts almost perpendicularly into the air, the notes become more and more melodious and increase in volume and in sweetness long after the bird is lost to view. James Hogg, the "Ettrick Shepherd," fell under the spell of this ecstatic music and wrote the following exquisite apostrophe to the sweet singer.

THE SKYLARK

Bird of the wilderness,

Blithesome and cumberless,

Sweet be thy matin o'er moorland and lea!
Emblem of happiness,

Blest is thy dwelling-place:

O to abide in the desert with thee!

Wild is thy lay, and loud,
Far in the downy cloud;

Love gives it energy, love gave it birth.
Where, on thy dewy wing,

Where art thou journeying?

Thy lay is in heaven, thy love is on earth.

O'er fell and fountain sheen,

O'er moor and mountain green,

O'er the red streamer that heralds the day,
Over the cloudlet dim,

Over the rainbow's rim,

Musical cherub, soar, singing, away!