Indian Tale

Where Ganges' sacred stream, with forests crown'd,
Laves fields unknown, and cheers the torrid ground;
Where craggy rocks and cloud-capt mountains rise,
With woods untrodden crown'd that touch the skies;
Where tall cocoäs spread their branches wide,
And plantains stand with rude, majestic pride;
Lies deep a lowly vale with woods embrac'd,
A gem of beauty, beaming in the waste;
There spicy groves embosom all the plain,
And birds of varied plumage sing in vain;
Abodes of peace! where all around is still,
Save the calm murmurs of the crystal rill,
Save where the distant cat'racts deaf'ning roar,
With sound like distant thunder fills the shore,
Awes with its noise the silent deserts drear,
Which dies in murmurs on the list'ning ear;
Here oft the aged fisher will relate,
Whose whiten'd locks proclaim his lengthen'd date,
The only relict of the lowly vale--
With tears of sympathy, the tragic tale;
Lay down his nets, his anxious toils forego,
To tell, with quiv'ring lips, the tale of woe;
Point to each spot, with fond remembrance now,
And weep reclining on the whiten'd brow.
The Muse shall here in simple strains relate,
The fisher's tale of young Acasto's fate--
Unknown to all the shining rolls of fame,
It shows that Man in ev'ry land's the same;
Same in his hopes, his aims, his griefs and fears,
At least, that all have fellowship in tears.


In calmest form the face of nature lay,
As fair Aurora usher'd in the day;
In clouds of varied forms and tints embrac'd,
The eastern sun display'd the sandy waste;
Ting'd all the hills with specks of deepest blue,
And spread the flow'ry lawn with drops of dew;
Awak'd the rising bird in joyful lays,
And bade the woods resound their Maker's praise;
When old Acasto tears of pleasure shed,
And, early rising, left his rustic bed;
O'er his experienc'd head wav'd ringlets grey,
With mingled smiles and tears, he hail'd the day;
Oft had his arm with firmest sinews strung,
The jav'lin darted and the discus flung;
Roam'd, prey to find, the sultry desert round,
And fix'd some panting savage to the ground;
Now, here retir'd, life's evening calm he spent,
And, t'wards the tomb his tranquil footsteps bent;
Now by his cottage 'mid the tufted wood,
In grateful joy with lifted hands he stood;
His heart burst forth aloud in thankful lays,
And thus to heav'n he pour'd his transport and his praise--


"Parent of all, the Lord of earth and air,
"Where'er thou dwell'st--accept my humble pray'r;
"Thou who can'st pierce the thickest gloom of night,
"And liv'st 'mid seraphs in the realms of light;
"Bend from on high my grateful tear to see,
"Approve that heart that burns and pants for Thee;
"Thou know'st this tribute of my praise sincere,
"Warm from a bosom fill'd with love and fear--
"Thee, tho' but dimly known, I'll here adore,
"Till life shall end, and I shall breathe no more;
"To thee, in joy or sorrow will I flee,
"My source of joy--and all my hope's in Thee."
"This day my son, if thou our wishes speed,
"His much-lov'd Zara to the fane shall lead,
"Blest by my wife now wrinkled o'er with age,
"His heart and hand in ties of love engage;
"O from above thine aiding hand extend,
"And be the father's and the husband's friend;
"Here scatter blessings casting sweet perfume,
"And let me rest my head within the tomb;
"Then, full of age, with pleasure there I'd lie,--
"But let me see them blest before I die;
"Then shall they sing thy name in grateful lays,
"And infants, yet unborn, shall lisp thy praise."
He ceas'd, and upwards turn'd his aged eye,
Which weeping pointed to the cloudless sky;
When young Acasto from the garden's shade,
Led by the hand, with joy, the charming maid;
Who ev'ry grace and lovely charm possest,
The auburn tresses swept her beauteous breast;
Sweet innocence and ev'ry bashful grace,
Shone in her eye and varied in her face;
Oft on her spouse her timid eyes she turn'd,
Whose raptur'd breast with purest passion burn'd;
Around his father's neck his arms he threw,
Whilst tears of joy the sage's cheeks bedew;
On both by turns, his aged arms he press'd,
And clasp'd them silent to his joyful breast;
"Yes," when his swelling heart gave words, he cried,
"Long may you live, the valley's boast and pride;
"May heav'nly bounty noblest blessings shed,
"When I am number'd with the silent dead;
"All--all that virtue's hand obtains--secures--
"All that I wish--but cannot speak--be your's!"
Now from the house, with steps infirm and slow,
Whilst tears of pleasure from her eyelids flow,
The mother comes suffus'd with tears of joy,
And hastes, beyond her strength, to bless her boy:
He leaves his bride upon the rustic seat,
And melts in love before his mother's feet;
Her blessing, with a heart o'ercharg'd, he hears,
And with affection sinks dissolv'd in tears;
She lifts her eyes, which tears of transport shed,
And calls down blessings on her darling's head.--
O sweetest passion of our varied mind,
Which leaves in force all others far behind;
Which nature's self inspires in ev'ry clime,
Uncheck'd by space and unimpair'd by time;
Thy tears as pure, as fine as temper'd steel;
Thy love as chaste as holy angels feel,
Alike in fortune's noon, affliction's night,
Which storms affect not--which no dangers fright;--
Sent to the heart from heav'nly flames above,
Heav'n's noblest blessing--pure maternal love.
My soul no feeling sings in fancied strain--
But one whose pow'r she owns in ev'ry vein;
With grateful song, this tribute here she pays,
To her who first inspir'd her feeble lays;--
To thee, my mother, grateful strains I pour,
From love which ne'er shall cease till life's no more;
Thee, whose dear image, present to my view,
Bids sweet affection's tears my verse bedew;
Whose image, time nor woe nor death shall part,
Nor joy, nor grief, tear from my glowing heart;
Yes; here from fiction and from coldness free,
These grateful lines my Muse shall yield to thee.


Now nearer drew the time when Hymen's bands
Should bless the lovers' hearts and join their hands;
When all the pleasing prospect open'd fair,
And spicy odors gladden'd all the air:
A fatal calm--that breeze whose lovely breath
Now gladden'd all--was soon to echo death;
Thus when the ocean hush'd in calms is laid,
And nature smiles and pleasant lies the glade;
Too oft the scene, the sudden tempests shroud
And lightnings flash, and thunders roar aloud;
When God, his fiery arm for vengeance bare,
With fiercest whirlwinds mingles earth and air;
Thus oft the calm, that reigns o'er mortal's hearts
Precedes the rolling thunder's fiery darts,
The gentle breezes soon to storms shall rise,
And clouds of woe obscure the fairest skies.
Whilst o'er the verdant altar garlands bloom,
And dew-dropt roses waft a sweet perfume;
The crowding virgins all in white array'd,
Stand round the bridegroom and the blushing maid;
The rite just finish'd--and the parents' kiss,
Crowns all their joy with more than human bliss;
Shouts--distant shouts of dread assail the ear,
Break off the joy--and fill the mind with fear;
Half-fainting Zara hides her fading charms,
And sinks affrighted in her husband's arms;
Dismay'd--in silence dread, the parents stand,
Whilst nearer shouts re-echo o'er the sand;
Plainly they seem to hear the missile dart,
At ev'ry sound--at ev'ry breeze they start;
Scarcely they dare to draw their feeble breath,
These were the sounds of woe--of war--of death;
As when amid the cheerful village train,
Whose cheerful sports enliven all the plain,
The scaly monster of the tow'ring wood,
Glides on and hissing chills the circling blood;
Shrieking they fly in wildest haste away,
Or stand opprest with horror and dismay;
Thus stood the bridal train aghast--distrest,
The heart forgot to beat in Zara's breast;
Nerveless she sunk upon the verdant shore,
And all was terror that was joy before;
When from the hill a swain with breathless speed,
Whose face declar'd he told some dreadful deed;
From distance, loud in quiv'ring accents, cries,
"Acasto, arm! from dreams of peace arise;
"A fierce invader fills our shores with death,
"And swift destruction hangs on ev'ry breath.--
"Soon must your fields lie waste, your cottage fall,
'Fight for your bride--your parents and your all;"
Rous'd from their dreams with sight of present woes,
The bridegroom's breast with ardent passion glows;
But not to glory all his thoughts resign'd,
Love gives him ardor and inspires his mind;
Tears after tears his mother's cheeks bedew,
Around his father's neck her arms she threw;
While wildly Zara rolls her downcast eyes,
Nor hears her mother's groans, her husband's sighs;
"Yes," he exclaims, and throws his griefs aside,
"For thee, alone, I'll fight, my blooming bride;
"For thee, the ranks of bloody war I'll try,
"For thee I'll conquer--or for thee I'll die:
"Then, since I go, whate'er my lot may be,
"May Heav'n support thee when thou think'st on me;
"Thy lovely form from keen affliction save,
"And bless thee till we meet beyond the grave."
He said, and bending kiss'd her faded cheek,
She rais'd her eyes, and thrice essay'd to speak;
Thrice did the griefs, that all her bosom wrung,
Check the fond accents of her quiv'ring tongue;
Thrice did her eyes behold the cheerful light,
And thrice they clos'd, opprest with thickest night.
Meantime the father brings the quiver dread,
And presses 'neath a casque his hoary head;
Embrac'd his wife, his son, with fury wild,
Gaz'd on his bride, now frown'd, now sobb'd and smil'd.
Oft they look back, till, reach'd the summit high,
The dusky plains of discord meet the eye,
Where rapt in clouds of smoke the armies lay,
Lost 'mid the dust that hid the face of day;
The sun reflects each sabre's dazz'ling rays,
And 'mid the dust the spears like lightning blaze;
Then fitting on their arms and jav'lin's bright,
The ardent warriors seek the field of fight.--


Meantime fair Zara wakes, her grief to know,
And wailing silent, strives to hide her woe;
Her blooming cheeks are clouded o'er with care,
And on her brow is painted deep despair;
Her young companions quake with anxious fear,
Sigh answers sigh, and tear is shed for tear.


In closest fight, the adverse armies rage,
And poison'd darts in dusky air engage;
No thought of life, no hope from death to fly,
They bravely stand to conquer or to die;
When thro' the air a jav'lin wings its way,
And darts like lightning on its destin'd prey;
Acasto's breast receives the poison'd dart,
Shades spread his eyes, and quickly beats his heart;
Still ardent rage his dying breast inspires,
Breathing defiance, greatly he expires;
Full on his son, his piercing eyes he cast,
And striving yet to speak, he breathes his last.
Fix'd in amaze and grief, his offspring stood,
Bent o'er the corpse and fondly suck'd the blood,--
There on his father dear his body threw,
And, 'mid the battle, sigh'd his last adieu;
There 'mid contending hosts he chose to lie,
And with his much-lov'd father glorious die;
Till thought of Zara bade him nobly rise,
Her image mournful swam before his eyes;
He calls his friends--of youths a noble band,
With these he marches o'er the burning sand,
Assails the force--spreads war and death around,
Till prest with wounds he grimly bites the ground;
His faithful friends his fainting body bear,
Far from the sights of death to purer air;
He seeks the wood, where agoniz'd he lay,
Forlorn and friendless, to the close of day--
His father's image, present to his view,
Oft bade the tears his manly cheeks bedew;
But Zara's woes with deeper grief distrest,
And fill'd with speechless agony his breast;
His only wish, once more her face to view,
And speak one last, one sad, one fond adieu!
To die while gazing on her lovely charms,
And breathe his last, repos'd in Zara's arms.


The sun had quench'd his rays in western seas,
Low thro' the woodlands crept the cooling breeze;
The western tints in slow progression fade,
And darkness veil'd the earth in ebon shade;
Save that the moon, 'mid clouds of fairest white,
Shed mildest rays amid the gloom of night;
A solemn stillness held the fields of death,
And Peace had hush'd each voice, each whisp'ring breath;
When Zara, rising from her grassy bed,
Love's softest tears in quick succession shed;
Mourn'd thro' the vale and sought the deathlike plain,
Fearless 'mid crowds of dead she dar'd complain;
Sought for her lord and fear'd to find him there--
Her groans re-echo thro' the silent air;
"Unhappy youth," with quiv'ring tongue, she cries,
"This hand must never wipe thy tearful eyes;
"No Zara near to soothe thy dying breath,
"And close, in peace, thy youthful eyes in death;
"Now from this scene of blood and woe I'll flee,
"And pray to die, my dearest spouse, with thee."--
She said, and sought the wood's embow'ring shade,
Where her lov'd spouse in anguish long had laid;
He starts and calls, she panting to reply,
Speaks not for joy, to find her husband nigh;
But rushing onwards with disorder'd charms,
Receives his dart, and sinks within his arms.


Amazement seiz'd his breast and dire dismay--
'Twas wounded Zara in his bosom lay;
The moon just beaming on her pallid face,
Display'd her features cold in death's embrace;
The blood ran cold about his breaking heart,
'Twas Zara wounded by--Acasto's dart.
"And is it you my spouse!" she feebly cries,
"Then am I blest, that thus your Zara dies;
"Sweet is the wound your healing weapon gave,
"Farewell--we soon shall meet beyond the grave:
"Think, sometimes think on this my last adieu,
"Yet recollect not--Zara bled by you."--
She said, and sunk upon the verdant shore,
With her Acasto fell--to rise no more;
Scarcely his lips can give the parting kiss,
Or speak his hope to meet in endless bliss;
Embracing, fondly thus they yield their breath,
And safe united, seek the shades of death.


Peaceful they rest, and mingle in the tomb,
Where join'd with woodbines, dew-drench'd roses bloom;
There ev'ry swain the tender tear bestows,
And ev'ry maiden's heart with pity glows;
There, whilst the seasons change, the maids shall bring
The choicest beauties of the op'ning spring;
There shall they oft with tears the garlands steep,
And pure affection's tend'rest feeling weep.