RED JACKET. A CHIEF OF THE INDIAN TRIBES, THE TUSCARORAS. ON LOOKING AT HIS PORTRAIT BY WEIR. COOPER, whose name is with his country's woven, 6 And throned her in the senate hall of nations, Robed like the deluge rainbow, heaven-wrought, Magnificent as his own mind's creations, And beautiful as its green world of thought; And faithful to the Act of Congress, quoted As law authority,-it passed nem. con.— He writes that we are, as ourselves have voted, The most enlightened people ever known. That all our week is happy as a Sunday And furthermore-in fifty years, or sooner, If he were with me, King of Tuscarora ! In all its medalled, fringed, and beaded glory, Its eye's dark beauty, and its thoughtful brow— Its brow, half martial, and half diplomatic, For thou wast monarch born. Tradition's pages Thy name is princely,-if no poet's magic Yet it is music in the language spoken Thy garb-though Austria's bosom-star would frighten That medal pale, as diamonds the dark mine, And George the Fourth wore, at his court at Brighton, A more becoming evening dress than thine; Yet 'tis a brave one, scorning wind and weather, Is strength a monarch's merit, like a whale's? Is beauty?—Thine has with thy youth departed; But the love-legends of thy manhood's years, And she who perished, young and broken hearted, Are-but I rhyme for smiles and not for tears. Is eloquence?-Her spell is thine that reaches The monarch mind, the mystery of commanding, The birth-hour gift, the art Napoleon, Of winning, fettering, moulding, wielding, banding The hearts of millions till they move as one; Thou hast it. At thy bidding men have crowded The road to death as to a festival; And minstrels, at their sepulchres, have shrouded With banner-folds of glory the dark pall. Who will believe? Not I-for in deceiving Lies the dear charm of life's delightful dream; I cannot spare the luxury of believing That all things beautiful are what they seem. |