Isaac McLellan: Verses about Red

Morn on the Summer Sea- the breaking light
Is trembling on the mountain's misty height,
And upland lea- and on the distant glen-
And o'er the waters- far from haunts of men.

How faint and sweet from yonder secret dell,
Swells o'er the wave the early village bell,
Borne with the sounds of tinkling herds- and hark!
O'er the blue hills, the music of the lark
Rings clearly from the silver clouds that rest,
Like a bright Crown, above the mountain-crest.

O! green and happy land! whose headlands grey,
Are, in the distance, melting fast away;
Ye peaceful vales- the wanderer's own sweet home,
And ye old woods!- farewell.- The curling foam-
The boundless sea, with all its host of waves,
May dash ere evening o'er our lonely graves.

Thou dark, unfathomed Ocean! in thy halls
No searching glance of kindly sunlight falls-
Far through thy azure depths the sea-snakes sweep,
And the huge Krakens haunt thee- stormy deep!
Yet hast thou wealth of glorious things, far down
Thy hidden palaces- jewels and crown,
And the reich spoils of many a shattered bark,
Lie with thy Sea-Stars and the ocean shark;
And from thy many-twinkling sands, bright gems
Shine like the pearls in kingly diadems.
The broad Sea-Fag lies there- and tufts of green,
Oft through thy glassy depths are dimly seen;
And the Sea-Grape and yellow Fan o'erspread
Thy pathless empire- and the Coral's red
Glows mid thy snowy pebbles and rich sand,
And scarlet Shells that glisten o'er the strand.
- Sea! thou art full of life! things swift and strange
Through thy mysterious tides, half shapeless, range.

Noon on the flashing billows. All the day
We have gone lightly on our foaming way;
And the glad sun a tranquil smile hath sent
From his bright throne in yonder firmament.
Far on our lee, the giant Whales upturn
The boisterous water from the sea's full urn;
The storm-drenched Petrel curbs his tired wing,
To view awhile our rapid wandering-
And the blue Halcyon bends his gentle eye
On the strong ship that flies so gaily by-
The purple Mullets through our pathway sweep,
And the blue Dolphins in our white track leap.

O! boundless Sea! with thy upheaving surge,
Whitened with foam-wreaths to thy glorious verge;
With thy strong tides- thy multitude of waves-
And the wild voices of thy thousand caves-
And thy stern rage when tempests madden thee!
Fearful thou ever art, Eternal Sea!

In winter, when the snows lie deep
In shapeless hillock, drifted heap;
When thick the hollow vales they fill,
And woods are trackless on the hill,
The wild wolves, famish'd, grim and gaunt,
Forsake their rocky mountain-haunt,
When frozen Nature's hand denies
The food in summer it supplies.
Forc'd from their coverts, far they prowl
With gnashing teeth and dismal howl,
And, hid all day in darksome den,
At night roam round the haunts of men.
By cattle-fold or shelter'd shed
Where bleating sheep are hous'd and fed,
When all the farmer's household sleeps,
And watch-dog to the fireside creeps,
These fierce marauders gather round;
They scent the air, they sniff the ground,
Then with a famish'd onset break
Thro' wattled hedge and sheepfold stake,
Rending with their demoniac crew
The fleecy dam, the bleating ewe.

The farmer at the break of day
Looks on the ravage with dismay-
The precious flock, complete no more;
The snowy sheep-yard, red with gore!
From farm to farmhouse spreads the tale,
From upland hut to peopled vale;
All arm, the 'wolf drive' to prepare,
A hunt that all for leagues must share.
Some from the dusty rafters take
Their rusty guns of ancient make;
And some, late soldiers of the war,
The rifles that have slain so far;
The small boys birding-pieces wield,
Impatient for the hunting-field.

Forth then exultingly they pour
For circuit of ten leagues or more;
Their captains on their coursers borne,
Arm'd with the trumpet and the horn;
All wading o'er the snow-heap'd ground,
All to some common centre bound,
Marching with blast of horns and shout,
To drive the hunted wolves in rout.

Unharm'd the red deer boundeth by;
Scathless the wild-cats from the bough
Gaze on the rushing crowd below;
The coon from hollow of the tree
Looks down, amaz'd the coil to see.
'Tis known in tangled-hazel swamp
The wolves have made their winter camp;
And here, vociferous and loud,
Concentrates th' avenging crowd,
Engirdling as with iron ring
The wolves that to their covert cling.

At summons of the leader press
Thro' briery, vine-strung wilderness,
A chosen band, with horn and cry
To fright the victims till they fly;
Who, mad with terror, seek to gain
Some outlet of escape in vain;
For everywhere a foeman stands
To slaughter them with bloody hands;
And soon is soak'd the spotless snow
With crimson blood from wounds that flow.

October's flaming banners, of purple and of gold,
O'er all the bowery woodland, are flauntingly unroll'd;
From his o'er-brimming urn red Autumn pours his dyes
O'er all thy realm, Long Island, from clouds that sail the skies.
They woods of elm and chestnut, so emerald-green ere-while,
Now glow with brightest blushes, suffus'd with Autumn's smile.
The maples of the uplands are flush'd with royal red,
And robes and garlands golden o'er the pasture-oaks are spread;
The sumacs by the roadside now wear a scarlet crown,
The bayberry bushes by the beach are clad in russet brown;
The apple orchards, late despoil'd of all their ruddy globes,
Tinet with the frost are all array'd in varicolor'd robes;
And low in swamps and thickets of cedar and of pine
The woodbines redden, and the lithe, high-clambering grape-vine.
And there the village children come, the purpling grapes to glean,
Whose clusters load the alders that o'er the streamlets lean.

The grass of summer uplands, where far the sheep-flock strays,
The bush-grass of the meadows, where wading cattle graze,
So green erewhile, are wither'd now, and thro' their thin brown leaves
The sorrowful breeze is sighing, like one in pain that grieves.
The bubbling brook, whose currents glide through banks of living green,
So clear that in the crystal depths the spotted trout were seen,
Creeps brown and turbid now, all chok'd with foliage sere-
A clouded mirror now, erewhile transparent clear;
Nor more the angler comes with tapering rod to sweep
The brook or limpid pond where dark tree-shadows creep.

I stand high up a hillside, where, far as eye may reach,
Stretch out fair woods and fields, and the sandy yellow beach;
The harvest crops are garner'd, the fields lie brown and bare,
The thresher's flail in distant barns resounds upon the air;
I hear the cowboy's call, the whistle of the bird,
And all the joyous sounds of rural life are heard.
I hear the piping quail and the gunner's weapon ring,
And see the startled coveys burst forth upon the wing;
I hear far overhead, in the upper realms of air,
The honking of wild geese, as onward swift they fare;
And in the salt bay meadows I see the fowler's boat,
I hear his gun, I see the smoke above his ambush float;
I see the platoons of the coot, the squadrons of the brant,
And hovering black-ducks, the shallow coves that haunt,
The shelldrake and the broad-bill, and all the feather'd flocks
Which haunt the open bays and wheel o'er ocean rocks.

Fair scenes, bright scenes, enchanting scenes! that fill
The heart with o'erflowing joy, and all the life pulses thrill,
So fair in all your autumn pomp, in all your summer green,
When woods are bright, skies full of light, and waters smile serene!

We cross'd a brawling mountain torrent, far
From our Indian camp. The red, angry glare
Of crimson sunset shimmer'd through the clouds
Of dust that fill'd the air with their dull, coppery hues,
Presaging the near coming of a storm.

We pass'd the border-forest's gloomy belt,
Behind which, tier on tier, the mighty range
Of the majestic Himalayas tower'd in air,
Till their snow-clad summits seem'd to pierce the sky;
Had pass'd thro' villages in dense mango groves-
Past temples, shadow'd by great tamarind-trees;
Past crowded hamlets fill'd with din and dust;
Past the low country, covered with green crops;
Past patches of rice stubble, with dense grass between,
Whence rose the partridge, plover, and the quail,
And florican and pea-fowl, in dense flocks;
Past groves of feathery bamboo and the palm,
And plumy plaintains that conceal the huts,
'Midst aloe-hedges festoon'd with gay vines.

There were few song-birds flitting thro' the gloom
Of wood arcades, to make them musical.
The songless horn-bill darts from tree to tree;
The big woodpecker taps the hollow log,
With gorgeous plumage glistening in the sun;
Flights of green parrots scream above your head;
The golden oriole and the bulbul make
Their feeble chirrup, while at times resounds
The melancholy hoot of blinking owl,
Or golden pigeon's soft and murmurous coo.

There, on the borders of the jungle wild,
The hunters pause ere they invade its depths.
'Twas a dark, deep, impenetrable swamp,
Thick with tall reeds and wild vines interlac'd-
Homes of the savage creatures of the waste-
The tiger's haunt, fierce monarch of the woods!
Here rang'd the brown hog-deer in browsing herds,
The wild pig and the boar, with gnashing tusks;
Here tramp'd the black rhinoceros on his way,
And wallow'd the big buffaloes at will;
The jackals rais'd at night their fearful howl,
While overhead great flocks of vultures soar'd.

And here the hunting elephants are rang'd
In line continuous, ready for the charge;
Each bears a howdah on his towering back,
Whereon the hunter with his rifle sits,
To stop the royal game with fatal aim.
Soon the long line advances thro' the wood,
Trampling the bending branches and the reeds,
While loud the native beaters sound their drums,
And kindle into flames the jungle grass-
Kindle acacia shrubs and thorny bush.
So they press on, a wall of flame behind,
While fast before them flies the frantic game.

At length a tiger bounds away in fright,
And fast the goaded elephant pursues.
As fast he tears thro' tangled jungles green,
Like great ship surging thro' the ocean tides.
The Mahouts rain their blows upon his head,
The spearmen prick him with their lances keen;
While on thro' bush and brake, thro' thorny scrub,
Through stream, and down precipitous ravine,
The headlong chase is urg'd, till, brought to bay,
The tiger falls beneath th' unerring shot.