Page:Zinzendorff and Other Poems.pdf/15

Rh Like haughty baron from his castled height. Thus dwelt the kings of Europe,—ere the voice Of the crusading monk, with whirlwind tone Did root them from their base, with all their hosts, Tossing the red-cross banner to the sky, And pouring like a torrent o'er the wilds Of wondering Asia. The rude native tribes, Fast by the borders of the gentle streams Carv'd out their heritage, with rival heart, And hand uncourteous. There the Shawanese With surest arrow stay'd the flying deer, And the bold Delaware with giant arm Impell'd his swift canoe. In feudal pride Oft the fierce chieftains led their eager hosts To savage battle, or with oathless truce Drew back in transient brotherhood, the hordes Of wrathful warriors. In their cane-roof'd homes Some budding virtues sprang as best they might Beneath the chill and baleful atmosphere Of savage life. The dusky mother prest Her new-born infant with a rapturous thrill Of unimagin'd love, and the glad sire Saw his young boy with eager skill maintain Against the opposing stream a venturous path, Or firmer knit his sinews in the chase. The lip of woman told the treasur'd lore Of other times, and 'mid the tasks and toils Of vassalage kept bright the historic chain, As the sad vestal nurs'd the sacred fire, —The young kept silence, while the old man spake, And bowing down before the hoary head,