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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=391578" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The American Forest Girl</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Wildly and mournfully the Indian drum<br>On the deep hush of moonlight forests broke;<br>'Sing us a death-song, for thine hour is come,<br>So the red warriors to their captive spoke.<br>Still, and amidst those dusky forms alone,<br>A youth, a fair-hair'd youth of England stood,<br>Like a king's son; tho' from his cheek had flown<br>The mantling crimson of the island-blood,<br>And his press'd lips look'd marble. Fiercely bright,<br>And high around him, blaz'd the fires of night,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Rocking beneath the cedars to and fro,<br>As the wind pass'd, and with a fitful glow<br>Lighting the victim's face: But who could tell<br>Of what within his secret heart befel,<br>Known but to heaven that hour? Perchance a thought<br>Of his far home then so intensely wrought,<br>That its full image, pictur'd to his eye<br>On the dark ground of mortal agony,<br>Rose clear as day! and he might see the band,<br>Of his young sisters wand'ring hand in hand,<br>Where the laburnums droop'd; or haply binding<br>The jasmine, up the door's low pillars winding;<br>Or, as day clos'd upon their gentle mirth,<br>Gathering with braided hair, around the hearth<br>Where sat their mother; and that mother's face<br>Its grave sweet smile yet wearing in the place<br>Where so it ever smiled!Perchance the prayer<br>Learn'd at her knee came back on his despair; </div><div style="margin:10px 0">The blessing from her voice, the very tone<br>Of her 'Good-night' might breathe from boyhood gone!<br>He started and look'd up: thick cypress boughs<br>Full of strange sound, wav'd o'er him, darkly red<br>In the broad stormy firelight; savage brows,<br>With tall plumes crested and wild hues o'erspread,<br>Girt him like feverish phantoms; and pale stars<br>Look'd thro' the branches as thro' dungeon bars,<br>Shedding no hope. He knew, he felt his doom<br>Oh! what a tale to shadow with its gloom<br>That happy hall in England! Idle fear!<br>Would the winds tell it? Who might dream or hear<br>The secret of the forests? to the stake<br>They bound him; and that proud young soldier strove<br>His father's spirit in his breast to wake,<br>Trusting to die in silence! He, the love<br>Of many hearts! the fondly rear'd, the fair,<br>Gladdening all eyes to see! And fetter'd there.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">He stood beside his death-pyre, and the brand<br>Flamed up to light it, in the chieftain's hand.<br>He thought upon his God. Hush! hark! a cry<br>Breaks on the stern and dread solemnity,<br>A step hath pierc'd the ring! Who dares intrude<br>On the dark hunters in their vengeful mood?<br>A girl a young slight girl a fawn-like child<br>Of green Savannas and the leafy wild,<br>Springing unmark'd till then, as some lone flower,<br>Happy because the sunshine is its dower;<br>Yet one that knew how early tears are shed,<br>For hers had mourn'd a playmate brother dead.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">She had sat gazing on the victim long,<br>Until the pity of her soul grew strong;<br>And, by its passion's deep'ning fervour sway'd,<br>Ev'n to the stake she rush'd, and gently laid<br>His bright head on her bosom, and around<br>His form her slender arms to shield it wound <br>Like close liannes; then rais'd her glittering eye<br>And clear-toned voice that said, 'He shall not die!' </div><div style="margin:10px 0">'He shall not die!' the gloomy forest thrill'd<br>To that sweet sound. A sudden wonder fell<br>On the fierce throng; and heart and hand were still'd,<br>Struck down, as by the whisper of a spell.<br>They gaz'd their dark souls bow'd before the maid,<br>She of the dancing step in wood and glade!<br>And, as her cheek flush'd thro' its olive hue,<br>As her black tresses to the night-wind flew,<br>Something o'ermaster'd them from that young mienâ€“<br>Something of heaven, in silence felt and seen;<br>And seeming, to their child-like faith, a token<br>That the Great Spirit by her voice had spoken. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">They loos'd the bonds that held their captive's breath;<br>From his pale lips they took the cup of death;<br>They quench'd the brand beneath the cypress tree;<br>'Away,' they cried, 'young stranger, thou art free!'</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Felicia+Dorothea+Hemans">Felicia Dorothea Hemans</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=391578" data-title="The American Forest Girl de Felicia Dorothea Hemans" data-description="Wildly and mournfully the Indian drum
On the deep hush of moonlight forests broke;
'Sing us a death-song, for thine hour is come,
So the red warriors to their captive spoke.
Still, and amidst those dusky forms alone,
A youth, a fair-hair'd youth o..."></div>
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