THE INDIAN BURYING GROUND

In spite of all the learned have said.
1.
I still my old opinion keep;
 
The posture, that we give our dead,
 
Points out the soul’s eternal sleep.
 

Not so the ancients of these lands >–
1.
The Indian, when from life released,
 
Again is seated with his friends,
 
And shares again the joyous feast. 

His imaged birds, and painted bowl,
1.
And venison, for a journey dressed,
 
Bespeak the nature of the soul,
 
Activity, that knows no rest. 

His bow, for action ready bent,
1.
And arrows, with a head of stone,
 
Can only mean that life is spent,
 
And not the old ideas gone. 

Thou, stranger, that shalt come this way,
1.
No fraud upon the dead commit –
 
Observe the swelling turf and say
 
They do not lie, but here they sit. 

Here still a lofty rock remains,
1.
On which the curious eye may trace
 
(Now wasted half, by wearing rains)
 
The fancies of a ruder race.
 

Here still an aged elm aspires,
1.
Beneath whose far-projecting shade
 
(And which the shepherd still admires)
 
The children of the forest played! 

There oft a restless Indian queen
 
(Pale shebah, with her braided hair)
 
And many a barbarous form is seen
 
To chide the man who lingers there.4.

By midnight moons, o’er moistening dews;
 
In habit for the chase arrayed,
 
The hunter still the deer pursues,
 
The hunter and the deer, a shade!4.

And long shall timorous fancy see
1.
The painted chief, and pointed spear,
 
And Reason’s self shall bow the knee
 
To shadows and delusions here.