I. Juvenile Poems. Jeckoyva

The Indian chief, Jeckoyva, as tradition says, perished alone on the mountain which now bears his name. Night overtook him whilst hunting among the cliffs, and he was not heard of till after a long time, when his half-decayed corpse was found at the foot of a high rock, over which he must have fallen. Mount Jeckoyva is near the White Hills.H. W. L.

THEY made the warrior’s grave beside

The dashing of his native tide:

And there was mourning in the glen—

The strong wail of a thousand men—

O’er him thus fallen in his pride,

Ere mist of age—or blight or blast

Had o’er his mighty spirit past.

They made the warrior’s grave beneath

The bending of the wild elm’s wreath,

When the dark hunter’s piercing eye

Had found that mountain rest on high,

Where, scattered by the sharp wind’s breath,

Beneath the ragged cliff were thrown

The strong belt and the mouldering bone.

Where was the warrior’s foot, when first

The red sun on the mountain burst?

Where—when the sultry noon-time came

On the green vales with scorching flame,

And made the woodlands faint with thirst?

’T was where the wind is keen and loud,

And the gray eagle breasts the cloud.

Where was the warrior’s foot when night

Veiled in thick cloud the mountain-height?

None heard the loud and sudden crash—

None saw the fallen warrior dash

Down the bare rock so high and white!

But he that drooped not in the chase

Made on the hills his burial-place.

They found him there, when the long day

Of cold desertion passed away,

And traces on that barren cleft

Of struggling hard with death were left—

Deep marks and footprints in the clay!

And they have laid this feathery helm

By the dark river and green elm.

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