Here, from this little hillock, in days long since gone by,
Glanced over hill and valley the Sachem's eagle eye;
His were the pathless forests, and his the hills so blue,
And on the restless ocean danced only his canoe.
Here stood the aged chieftain, rejoicing in his glory;
How deep the shade of sadness that rests upon his story!
For the white man came with power; like brethren they met;
But the Indian fires went out, and the Indian sun has set.
And the chieftain has departed; gone is his hunting-ground;
And the twanging of his bow-string is a forgotten sound.
Where dwelleth yesterday? and where is echo's cell?
Where has the rainbow vanished?