eterne, That lurid, partial act of war and peace—of old and new contending, Fought out through wrath, fears, dark dismays, and many a long suspense; All past—and since, in countless graves receding, mellowing, Victor’s and vanquish’d—Lincoln’s and Lee’s—now thou with them, Man of the mighty days—and equal to the days! Thou from the prairies!—tangled and many-vein’d and hard has been thy part, To admiration has it been enacted!
Red Jacket (from Aloft)
(Impromptu on Buffalo City’s monument to, and re-burial of the old Iroquois orator, October 9, 1884)
Upon this scene, this show, Yielded to-day by fashion, learning, wealth, (Nor in caprice alone—some grains of deepest meaning,) Haply, aloft, (who knows?) from distant sky-clouds’ blended shapes, As some old tree, or rock or cliff, thrill’d with its soul, Product of Nature’s sun, stars, earth direct—a towering human form, In hunting-shirt of film, arm’d with the rifle, a half-ironical smile curving its phantom lips, Like one of Ossian’s ghosts looks down.