21. So were her feelings to her lot composed For their dear sake she learnt to entertain A wish for human intercourse renew'd; And oftentimes, while they devour'd the strain, Would she beguile their evening solitude With stories strangely told and strangely understood. 22. Little she knew, for little had she seen, And little of traditionary lore Had reach'd her ear; and yet to them I ween Being left to animal sense, degenerate, ... Mere creatures, they had sunk below the beasts* estate. 23. The human race, from her they understood, Was not within that lonely hut confined, But distant far beyond their world of wood Were tribes and powerful nations of their kind; And of the old observances which bind People and chiefs, the ties of man and wife, The laws of kin religiously assign'd, Rites, customs, scenes of riotry and strife, And all the strange vicissitudes of savage life. 24. Wondering they listen to the wonderous tale, Was haply felt, with juvenile delight, 25. But when the darker scenes their mother drew, What crimes were wrought when drunken fury raged, What miseries from their fatal discord grew When horde with horde in deadly strife engaged: The rancorous hate with which their wars they waged, The more unnatural horrors which ensued, When, with inveterate vengeance unassuaged, The victors round their slaughter'd captives stood, And babes were brought to dip their little hands in blood: 26. Horrent they heard; and with her hands the Maid Prest her eyes close as if she strove to blot The hateful image which her mind portray'd. The Boy sate silently, intent in thought; Then with a deep-drawn sigh, as if he sought To heave the oppressive feeling from his breast, Complacently compared their harmless lot With such wild life, outrageous and unblest, Securely thus to live, he said, was surely best. 27. On tales of blood they could not bear to dwell, From such their hearts abhorrent shrunk in fear. Better they liked that Monnema should tell Of things unseen; what Power had placed them here, And whence the living spirit came, and where It past, when parted from this mortal mold; Of such mysterious themes with willing ear They heard, devoutly listening while she told Strangely-disfigured truths, and fables feign'd of old. 28. By the Great Spirit man was made, she said, And shook the heavens and fill'd the earth with dread. Alone and inaccessible, on high He had his dwelling-place eternally, And Father was his name. This all knew well; But none had seen his face and if his eye Regarded what upon the earth befell, Or if he cared for man, she knew not: ... who could tell? 29. But this, she said, was sure, that after death They work'd where'er they might their wicked will, The natural foes of man, whom we pursue and kill. 30. Of better spirits, some there were who said Sad proof to them poor Monnema addrest, Drawn from their father's fate; no grave had he Wherein his soul might dwell. This therefore could not be. 31. Likelier they taught who said that to the Land Nor change, nor death; but there the human frame, Untouch'd by age or ill, continued still the same. 32. Winds would not pierce it there, nor heat and cold Grieve, northirst parch and hunger pine; but there The sun by day its even influence hold With genial warmth, and thro' the unclouded air The moon upon her nightly journey fare: The lakes and fish-full streams are never dry; Trees ever green perpetual fruitage bear; And, wheresoe'er the hunter turns his eye, Water and earth and heaven to him their stores supply. 33. And once there was a way to that good land, Albeit the ascent was long: and when the height O happy time, when ingress thus was given By their own act and choice! In evil day And none may now the Land of Spirits gain, Divorce the soul which there full gladly would remain. 35. Such grievous loss had by their own misdeed And mock'd her, till they made her heart with rage o'erflow. |