The Ladies' Garland

FROM THE U. S. LITERARY GAZETTE.

JECKOYVA.

The Indian chief, Jackoyva, as tradition says, perished alone on the mountain which now bears his name. Night overtook him whilst hunting among the cliffs, and he was not heard of till after a long time, when his half decayed corpse was found at the foot of a high rock, over which he must have fallen. Mount Jeckoyva is near the White Hills.

They made the warrior's grave beside
The dashing of his native tide:
And there was mourning in the glen--
The strong wail of a thousand men--
O'er him thus fallen in his pride,
Ere mist of age--or blight or blast
Had o'er his mighty spirit past.

They made the warrior's grave beneath
The bending of the wild elm's wreath,
When the dark hunter's piercing eye
Had found that mountain rest on high,
Where, scattered by the sharp wind's breath,
Beneath the rugged cliff were thrown
The strong belt and the mouldering bone.

Where was the warrior's foot, when first
The red sun on the mountain burst?--
Where--when the sultry noon-tide came
On the green vales with scorching flame,
And made the woodlands faint with thirst
'Twas where the wind is keen and loud,
And the grey eagle breasts the cloud.

Where was the warrior's foot, when night
Veiled in thick cloud the mountain height?
None heard the loud and sudden crash,--
None saw the fallen warrior dash
Down the bare rock so high and white!--
But he that drooped not in the chase
Made on the hills his burial place.

They found him there, when the long day
Of cold desertion passed away,
And traces on that barren cleft--
Of struggling hard with death were left--
Deep marks and foot prints in the clay!

And they have laid this feathery helm
By the dark river and green elm.

H. W. L.