The league of the Iroquois and other legends : from the Indian muse

THE BETTER LAND. 229
Who toiled and suffered here below
Through all the years and not in vain ;
Whose heart had borne a mighty woe,
Felt all the pangs of mortal pain ;
The portion that has ever been
Of kingly souls whose feet have pressed
The heights of woe, to enter in
The bright Immortals 1 home and rest ;
Unto his kindred, tribe and race,
To shores and wigwams looming large
Returning, to his home and place,
Drew on the shore that mystic barge
By snowy tents that shimmering stand
On hills fair in the setting sun ;
Sojourned he in that Better Land,
His sorrows passed, his labors done.
And oft when sundown falling red,
With ruby lights the Hesper-rim,
While musing on the loved and dead,
While brooding sad the thought of him
The noblest of his noble Race,
Above the purple clouds of even
Methinks I see his Prophet-face
Look smiling from that peaceful heaven.