The Daily Herald

Messrs. Editors:

The removal of the Seminole Indians from the "land of their fathers," cannot fail to awaken the sympathies of all liberal and reflecting minds, and to such the following lines may not be wholly uninteresting. They are copied from a letter which I lately received from a near relative, who is at present at Fort Brooke, Tampa. Should you think that they possess sufficient merit to justify their publication, you can insert them.

C. M.

Go to the West, oppressed Indian, go;
Thou hast no more a resting place below.
Go, leave the land, the soil thou long hast trod,
And paid no homage but to Nature's God.
Far from thy home, the green palmetto grove,
Where ancient kings were free as air to rove,
To far Arkansaw must thy race be driven,
Ere to oblivion it shall all be given.
The die is cast; the unyielding arm of power
Grasps thy fair lands, and in thy shady bower
No longer canst thou rove, unfettered, free,
Westward away—such is thy destiny.
On to the mountains; hie thee far away,
Along Missouri's rushing current stray;
Roam yet awhile over hill and plain,
A home to find—a refuge to obtain.
And yet thy fate may still be more severe,
'Mong other tribes you may have much to bear;
War, wasting war, with all its horrors rage,
And chief with chief, in mortal strife engage.
The lingering remnant of a powerful race,
With thoughtful steps thy wild-wood pathway trace,
Till thou hast climbed the rocky mountains steep,
There may'st thou pause, and o'er thy sorrows weep.
Thus from the past we draw thy future fate,
And fancy's pencil paints thy fallen state;
Thus are thy woes in mournful lines display'd,
Thy grandeur lost in bold relief portray'd.
Yet hope, compassion, breathes a fervent prayer,
That thy existence may be bright and fair;
That future times may to thy sons unfold
More light and knowledge than they now behold.

Tampa, May 7th, 1837.

H. B. K.