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Where'er to battle march'd their grim arraj-, The sword of conquest plough'd resistless way ; Where'er from cruel toil they sought repose, Around, the fires of devastation rose. The Indian, as he turn'd his head in flight. Beheld his cottage flaming through the night. And, midst the shrieks of murder on the wind. Heard the mute blood-hound's death-step close be- hind.
The conflict o'er, the valiant in their graves. The wretched remnant dwindled into slaves ; Condemn'd in pestilential cells to pine. Delving for gold amidst the gloomy mine. The sufferer, sick of life-protracting breath, Inhaled with joy the fire-damp blast of death : — Condemn'd to fell the mountain palm on high, That cast its shadow from the evening sky, Ere the tree trembled to his feeble stroke. The woodman languish'd, and his heart-strings broke :
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