Herr.

The forest way is long

From the red chieftain's home. Rest thee awhile Beneath my sycamore, and we will speak

My heart is sleepless, and the dark night swiftI must begone.

Herr.-[solemnly.] No, warrior, thou must stay!

The Mighty One hath given me power to search
Thy soul with piercing words—and thou must stay,
And hear me, and give answer! If thy heart
Be grown thus restless, is it not because
Within its dark folds thou hast mantled up
Some burning thought of ill?-

Eno.-[with sudden impetuosity.] How should I rest?
Last night the spirit of my brother came,
An angry shadow in the moonlight streak,

And said, "Avènge me !"--In the clouds this morn
I saw the frowning color of his blood--

And that, too, had a voice.-I lay at noon,
Alone beside the sounding waterfall,

And through its thunder-music spake a tone—
A low tone piercing all the roll of waves—
And said, "Avenge me!"-Therefore have I raised
The tomahawk, and strung the bow again,

That I may send the shadow from my couch,
And take the strange sound from the cataract,
And sleep once more.

Herr.

A better path, my son,

Unto the still and dewy land of sleep,

My hand in peace can guide thee—e'en the way
Thy dying brother trod.-Say, didst thou love
That lost one well?

Eno.

Knowest thou not we grew up Even as twin roses amidst the wilderness ? Unto the chase we journeyed in one path; We stemmed the lake in one canoe we lay

Beneath one oak to rest.

When fever hung

Upon my burning lips, my brother's hand
Was still beneath my head; my brother's robe
Covered my bosom from the chill night air.
Our lives were girdled by one belt of love,
Until he turned him from his fathers' gods,
And then my soul fell from him-then the grass
Grew in the way between our parted homes,
And wheresoe'er I wandered, then it seemed
That all the woods were silent.-I went forth-
I journeyed, with my lonely heart, afar,

And so returned-and where was he?-the earth
Owned him nō mōre.

Herr

But thou thyself, since then
Hast turned thee from the idols of thy tribe,
And, like thy brother, bowed the suppliant knee
To the one God.

Eno.

Yes, I have learned to pray

With my white father's words, yet all the more
My heart that shut against my brother's love,
Hath been within me as an arrowy fire,

Burning my sleep away.-In the night hush,
'Midst the strange whispers and dim shadowy things
Of the great forests, I have called aloud,
"Brother! forgive, forgive!"—He answered not-
His deep voice, rising from the land of souls,
Cries but "Avenge me!"—and I go forth now
To slay his murderer, that when next his eyes
Gleam on me mournfully from that pale shore,
may look up, and meet their glance, and say,
I have avenged thee!"

I

66

Should be the root of this dread bitterness,
Till Heaven through all the fevered being pours
Transmuting balsam!-Stay, Enonio, stay!
Thy brother calls thee not!—The spirit world
Where the departed go, sends back to earth

No visitants for evil.-Tis the might

Of the strong passion, the remorseful grief

At work in thine own breast, which lends the voice
Unto the forest and the cataract,-

The angry color, to the clouds of morn,—
The shadow, to the moonlight.-Stay, my son,
Thy brother is at peace. Beside his couch,
When of the murderer's poisoned shaft he died,
I knelt and prayed; he named his Savior's name,
Meekly, beseechingly; he spoke of thee

In pity and in love.

Eno.-[hurriedly.]

Did he not say

My arrow should avenge him?

Herr. His last words were all forgiveness.

Eno.

What! and shall the man

Who pierced him with the shaft of treachery,

Walk fearless forth in joy?

Herr.

Was he not once

Thy brother's friend?-Oh! trust me, not in joy
He walks the frowning forest. Did keen love,
Too late repentant of its heart estranged,
Wake in thy haunted bosom, with its train
Of sounds and shadows-and shall he escape?
Enonio, dream it not!-Our God, the All Just,
Unto Himself reserves this royalty-
The secret chastening of the guilty heart,
The fiery touch, the scourge that purifies,
Leave it with Him!-Yet make it not thy hope--
For that strong heart of thine-Oh! listen yet-
Must, in its depths, o'ercome the very wish
For death or torture to the guilty one,

Ere it can sleep again.

Eno.

My father speaks

Of change, for man too mighty. Herr.

I but speak

Of that which hath been, and again must be,
If thou wouldst join thy brother, in the life

Of the bright country, where, I well believe,
His soul rejoices.---He had known such change.
He died in peace. He, whom his tribe once named
"THE AVENGING EAGLE," took to his meek heart,
In its last pangs, the spirit of those words

Which, from the Savior's cross, went up to heaven—
"Forgive them, for they know not what they do,
Father, forgive!"-And o'er the eternal bounds
Of that celestial kingdom, undefiled,
Where evil may not enter, he, I deem,

Hath to his Master passed.-He waits thee there
For love, we trust, springs Heavenward from the grave,
Immortal in its holiness.-He calls

His brother to the land of golden light

And ever-living fountains.-Couldst thou hear
His voice o'er those bright waters, it would say,
"My brother! Oh! be pure, be merciful!
That we may meet again."

Eno.-Hesitatingly.]

Can I return

To Him,

Unto my tribe, and unavenged?

Herr.

To Him return, from whom thine erring steps
Have wandered far and long! Return, my son,
To thy Redeemer! Died He not in love-
The sinless, the Divine; the Son of God-
Breathing forgiveness 'midst all his agonies,
And we, dare we be rúthless? By His aid
Shait thou be guided to thy brother's place
'Midst the pure spirits. Oh! retrace thy way
Back to the Savior! He rejects no heart
E'en with the dark stains on it, if true tears

Be o'er them showered.-Aye, weep thou, Indian Chief!
For by the kindling moonlight, I behold

Thy proud lips' working-weep, relieve thy soul!

Tears will not shame thy manhood, in the hour

Of its great conflict.

[the bow,

Eno.-[Giving up his weapons to Herrmann.] Father, take

Keep the sharp arrows till the hunters call
Forth to the chase once more.-And let me dwell
A little while, my father, by thy side,

That I may hear the blessed words again-
Like water brooks amidst the summer hills-
From thy true lips flow forth; for in my heart
The music and the memory of their sound

Too long have died away.

Herr.

O, welcome back,

Friend, rescued one!-Yes, thou shalt be my guest,
And we will pray beneath my sycamore
Together, morn and eve; and I will spread
Thy couch beside my fire, and sleep at last,-
After the visiting of holy thoughts,-
With dewy wing shall sink upon thine eyes!
Enter my home, and welcome, welcome back
To peace, to God, thou lost and found again!

They go into the cabin together.—HERRMANN, lingering for a moment on the threshhold, looks up to the starry skies.]

Father! that from amidst yon glorious worlds
Now look'st on us, Thy children! make this hour
Blessed for ever! May it see the birth

Of Thine own image in the unfathomed deep
Of an immortal soul,-a thing to name

With reverential thought, a solemn world!
To Thee more precious than those thousand stars
Burning on high in Thy majestic Heaven!

LESSON XI.

FORGIVE AND FORGET.

CHARLES SWAIN.

1. FORGIVE and forget! why the world would be lonely,The garden, a wilderness left to deform,

If the flowers but remembered the chilling blast only,
And the fields gave no verdure for fear of the storm.