Listen, white man! go not there; Unseen spirits stalk the air! Though the sky be clear and calm, And the south-west winnow balm— Though each wave be smooth and fair, Be thou cautioned—go not there! Misty forms, that walk the wind, Guard the treasures there enshrined; Hungry birds their influence lend, Snakes defy, and kites defend: There, the star-eyed panther prowls, And the wolf in hunger howls; There, the speckled adder breeds, And the mighty canieu feeds; Spirits prompt them—fiends incite— They are eager for the fight, And are thirsting, night and day, On the human heart to prey: Be they gods, or be they not, Touch not thou the sacred spot.
Tell me, red man! old and hoar, Dweller on Igomee’s[3] shore! Wherefore bound by spell or wile, Spirit guarded, is yon isle? Is there not embowelled there Many a gem of lustre rare— Glow there not, in hidden mine, Jewel stones of ray divine— Ore resplendent—crystal bright, That illume the cavern-night? Or, along the mystic strand, Massy piles of golden sand? Tell me, hunter! wilt thou not Guide me to the treasur’d spot? Arms, with Europe’s skill prepared, Shall the daring deed reward; Bands shall deck thee, feathers bless, And the pride of Albion dress, With Columbia’s banner wide, And a chieftain’s plate beside.
[3] An abbreviation of Git-chi-go-mee,—the Indian name for Lake Superior.
Listen, white man! Moons have past Since this earth was all a waste: Rains had drenched it—thunders rent— Winds demolished—waters spent— And the ocean, black and still, Slumbered deep o’er every hill, And not one ling’ring beam of light Illum’d the vast and sullen night. ’Twas then the spirit of the sky, In mercy hung yon lamps on high— Sun, moon and stars—and by their light Expelled the dread chaotic night: Then clothed he hills and vales with trees, And stated bounds to lakes and seas; Then sent he bird and beast in woods, And fish in all our limpid floods, And creatures small, of foot and wing, And every living, breathing thing:— Last sent he man—(a barb’rous race, From whom my long descent I trace,) As lord o’er all—and thus benign, Addressed the parent of our line.
To thee I give these smiling woods, These lofty hills, and peopled floods, Filled with all needful game, and blest For thy maintainance, peace and rest. I give thee bow, I give thee spear, To dart the fish, and fell the deer; I give thee bark full light to sweep O’er the broad stream and billowy deep; I give thee skins for thy attire; To shade thee, woods; to warm thee, fire; More need’st thou not, nor covet more, And peace her joys shall round thee pour. But touch not gold; the tempter fly, Or all thy kin shall droop and die; For in that potent evil pent, Lurk envy, pain, and discontent; And luxury—of life the bane— And woe, with all her haggard train.