Chapter V: Part II: Occoneechee (2)

To the mound the tribe assembled, From the regions all around, Came from Cowee and Coweeta, Where the Cherokee abound; Came from Nantahala mountains, Skeenah and Cartoogechaye, Nickajack and sweet Iola, And from Choga far away.

All the great men and the warriors Brought the women, and their wives, Came by hundreds without number, Like the swarms around the hives; But today there is no warrior, Not a maiden can be found, Tenting on the pretty meadow, Or upon Nik-wa-sa mound.

In the Cowee spur of mountains, Stands the Bald and Sentinel, Of the valley and the river, Of the moorland and the dell. Like a pyramid it rises, Layer on layer and flight on flight Till its crest ascends the confines Of the grand imperial height.

From its summit far receding, Contours of the mountains rise, Numerous as the constellations In the arched dome of the skies. Far away beyond the valley Double Top confronts the eye, Black Rock rises like a shadow On the blue ethereal sky.

Jones' Knob makes its appearance, Highest, grandest height of all Penetrates the vault of heaven, None so picturesque or tall. Wayah, Burningtown and Wesser Raise their bald heads to the cloud High and haughty, rich in beauty And extremely vain and proud.

Una and Yalaka mountains Stand so near up by the side Of the Cowee, that you'd take them For its consort or its bride. Festooned, wreathed and decorated With the honeysuckle bloom, And the lady-slipper blossom, There dispels the hour of gloom.

Ginseng and the Indian turnip Grow up from their fallow beds In the dark coves of the mountains, With their beaded crimson heads. Fertile fields and stately meadows Stretch along the sylvan streams And surpass the fields Elysian, Seen in visionary dreams.

From the summit of the Cowee In the season of the fall, Fog fills all the pretty valley Settles like the deathly pall, Coming from the rill and river, To the isothermal belt, Where the sunbeam meets the fog-line And the frost and ices melt.

Jutting tops of verdant mountains Penetrate the fog below, As the islands in the ocean Form the archipelago. Sea of fog stands out before you, With its islands and its reef Silent and devoid of murmur As the quivering aspen leaf.

"Occoneechee, look to Northland, See the Smoky Mountains rise, Like a shadow in the valley Or a cloud upon the skies. Many days since you beheld them In their grand, majestic height; Many days from these you've wandered From their fountains, pure and bright.

"Hie thee to the Smoky Mountains, Tarry not upon the plain, Linger not upon the border Of the fields of golden grain. Flee thee as a kite or eagle, Not a moment stop or stay, Hasten to Oconaluftee, Be not long upon the way.

"I have much to speak unto you E'er I take my final leave, Some will sadden, some will gladden, Some bring joy and some will grieve. All our legends, myths and stories Soon will fall into decay, And I must transmit them to you E'er I turn to go away.

"Mount thee, mount thee quick this pony, Spryly spring upon its back, Leave no vestige, sign or token Or the semblance of a track, Whereby man may trace or trail thee, In the moorland or morass, By the radiant river flowing Or secluded mountain pass.

"Grasp the reins, hold fast the girdle, Like flamingoes make your flight To the great dome of the mountain That now gleams within your sight. Clingman's Dome, the crowning glory Of the high erupted hills, They will shield you and protect you, With its cliffs and rolling rills."

Sped they like the rolling current, Sped they like a gleam of light, Sped they as the flying phantom Or a swallow in its flight, To their refuge in the mountain, To the temple of the earth, Near the lonely spot secluded, That had known her from her birth.

Standing, gazing, watching, peering, Through the azure atmosphere, At the wilderness before you And the scene both rich and clear. Cerulean the gorgeous mountains Rise and loom up in your sight, Like a splendid constellation On a crisp autumnal night.

'Twixt the fall and winter season, Comes a tinge of milky haze, Stealing o'er the Smoky Mountains, Shutting out the solar rays, Flooding vales and filling valleys, Coming, creeping, crawling slow, Fills the firmament with shadows As with crystal flakes of snow.

Through the haze and mist and shadows You discern a ball of fire, From the rim of Nature rising As a knighted funeral pyre; Yet it moveth slowly upward, Creeps aloft along the sky, As a billow on the ocean Meets the ship, then passes by.

This you say is Indian summer, Tepid season of the year, When glad harvest songs ascendeth Full of hope and love and cheer. From Penobscot, down the Hudson, By the Susquehanna wild, Through the Shenandoah valley Roamed the forest-loving child.

Roamed the Mohawk and the Huron, Seneca and Wyandot, Delaware and the Mohican, Long since perished and forgot. Powhattan and Tuscarora, And the wandering Showano, Creek and Seminole and Erie, Miami and Pamlico,

Chicasaw and the Osages, Kickapoo and Illinois, Ottawas and Susquehannas, Objibwas and Iroquois, Once enjoyed the Indian summers, Once to all this land was heir, Sportive, free and lithe and happy, Chief and maid and matron fair.

As the blossoms in the forest Bloom, then fall into decay, So the mighty tribes here mentioned, Flourished, so traditions say; Then the coming of the white man, Spread consternation far and wide; Then decay and desolation Conquered all their manly pride.

Treaties made were quickly broken And their homes were burned with fire, Which provoked the mighty tribesmen And aroused their vengeful ire. Furious raids on hostile savage With the powder-horn and gun, Soon reduced the noble red man Slowly, surely, one by one,

Till not one now roams the forest, None are left to tell the tale; All their guns and bows are broken, None now for them weep or wail. Only names of streams and mountains Keep the memory aglow, Of the noble, brave and fearless Red men of the long ago.

Cherokee, the seed and offspring Residue of Iroquois, Silently are disappearing Without pageantry or noise. Though more civil and more learned And much wiser than the rest, They will be amalgamated, By the white man in the West.

Occoneechee and the chieftain Talked of all that they had seen, Of the flow of pretty rivers And the matchless mountains green, Of the ferns and pretty flowers, Parterre of rarest hue, Tint of maroon, white and yellow, Saffron, lilac, red and blue.

Held they converse of their travels, Of the wilderness sublime, Of the myths and happy legends Told through yielding years of time. Of the wars and tales forgotten, Of the chiefs and warriors brave Who long since have run their journey, Who now sleep within the grave.

At those tales the maiden wept loud, Sought for solace thru a sigh, Much o'ercome by thoughts of loved ones, And she prayed that she might die High upon the Smoky Mountains, Where no human soul can trace The seclusions of the forest To her lonely burial place.

Bitterly she wailed in sorrow, Saying "Tell me, tell me why I am left out here so lonely, And my tears are never dry? Why he comes not at my calling, Why he roams some lonely way, Why does he not come back to me-- Why does he not come and stay?

"Why and where now does he linger? Tell me, silver, crescent moon, Shall our parting be forever-- Shall our hopes all blast at noon? When love's bright star shines the brightest Shall it be the sooner set? Shall we e'er be reunited, Tell me, while hope lingers yet!

"Does he linger in the mountains, Far up toward the radiant sky? Tell me, blessed God of Nature, Tell me, blessed Nunnahi. Has some evil spirit seized him, Hid or carried him away Far beyond the gleaming sunset, Far out toward the close of day?

"Will he come back with the morning, Borne upon its wings of light, From the shade that long has lingered, From the darkness of the night? Is there none to bring me answer? Speak, dear Nature, tell me where I may find my long lost lover, Is my final feeble prayer."

Then the chieftain, grand and noble, Came and lingered by her side, Like a lover in devotion Lingers near a loving bride. Then in accents like a clarion, Sweet and clear, but gently said, "Whippoorwill, my friend, your lover, Comes again, he is not dead!

"I will go and hunt your lover, And will bring him to your side; I will roam the forest ever, And will cease to be your guide; I will find the one you've looked for, And will tell him that you live; I will tell him of your rambles, And will all my future give,

"Till I find him in the forest, Or upon the flowing brink Of the Coosa river flowing, Where he used to often drink. In the everglades may linger, 'Neath the shade of some cool palm, Sweetest refuge of the lowlands, With its air of purest balm.

"Where the Seminole in silence, Made their refuge, long ago, From the fierce onslaught of Jackson, And exterminating woe. He may listen in the silence And the solitude of night, For some friendly sign or token Whereby he may make his flight.

"When I've found him we will travel, We will travel night and day, We will hasten on our journey, Will not linger nor delay, We will speed along the valley Like the wind before the rain, We will neither stop nor tarry, Never from our speed refrain.

"We will rush along the river, Like the maddened swollen tide, Like a leaf upon the cyclone Rushing forward in its pride; Over winter's snow and ices We will rush with greatest speed, Like a herd of frightened cattle Or a trained Kentucky steed.

"I will tell him of your travels Into lands he's never seen, With their forests and their flowers, And their leaves of living green; How for years you've looked and waited, Watched the trail and mountainside, Watched and hoped long for him coming, That you might become his bride.

"I am John Ax, Stagu-Nahi! Much I love the mountains wild! Friend of those who love the forest, Friend of those who love you, child. I bespeak a special blessing To attend you while I go Into strange lands, unto strangers, Hither, thither, to and fro."

Then he pressed her to his bosom, Breathed a silent, parting prayer To the Nunnahi in heaven, For the lovely maid so fair; Prayed and blessed her, then departed Thru primeval forests wild, Sped he by the rolling waters, Heard them laugh and saw them smile.

Sped he by the Coosa river, Where great brakes of waving cane, Bend before the blowing breezes, Like the waves of wind and rain. Took the trails where once the chieftain Strode at will in lordly pride, By the Coosa river flowing In its smooth, unrippled tide.

Downward, onward, free and easy, Swirls and turns and travels slow, As it glitters in the sunlight, As its waters onward go. Sees the trail almost extinguished By the pretty Etawa, Where once dwelt in great profusion, Chief and maid and tawny squaw.

Traveled far the Tallapoosa Into fen and deep morass, Through the wildwood, glade and forest Dark defile and narrow pass; Footsore, lame and often hungry, Traveled onward day and night, Like the wild goose speeding forward In its semi-annual flight.

O'er the glebes of Alabama, Crossed the hill and stream and dale, To the Tuskaloosa flowing Near the ancient Indian trail, Now deserted and forsaken Is the war path and the land, By the Creek and great Muscogas Wandering, wild, nomadic band.

Pensive, lonely and dejected, Penetrated he the wild, Over fen and bog and prairie, Into climates soft and mild. By lagoon and lake and river, By the deep translucent bay, Followed he the sun's direction, Many a night and sunlit day.

Crossed the Mississippi delta, Wound through many moor and fen, Saw the shining stars at midnight, And the dawn of days begin; Heard the tramp of bear and bison, Heard the wild wolf's dismal howl, Saw the glowworm in the rushes, Heard the whippoorwill and owl.

Heard the alligator bellow, Saw him swim the broad bayou, Saw the egret, crane and heron, Wading stark and tree-cuckoo. Trackless miles spread out before him, Stretching leagues of gama grass Lay across the course he traveled, Lay out where he had to pass.

Dangling mosses from the tree tops, Swung by swaying winds and breeze, Cling with tendrils to the branches, Of the mighty live oak trees. Soft as lichens, light as feathers Was the tall untrodden grass, On the prairie and the meadow, And the spreading rich morass.

Tranquil, peacefully and quiet Did the moons and moments wane, Till he came to Oklahoma, Into his own tribe's domain; Here he rested for a season, Ate the food and drank for health In the land of Oklahoma, Land of perfect natural wealth.

Oklahoma, red man's country, Blest above all other lands, In her natural soil and climate, In her ore-beds and her sands; In her fertile fields and valleys, In her people, true and great, Cherokee and Creek and Choctaws Make the people of the state.

Here's a land transformed in beauty, Touched and tilled by busy toil, Responds quickly to the tiller, Products of a generous soil. Fruits and flowers forever growing, Fields of gold and snowy white, Songs of harvest home and plenty Sung to every one's delight.

Here with labor, love and patience, There arose an empire great, Which when settled, tilled and treated, Has become a powerful state; Filled with people true and honest, Filled with people thrifty too, And the land is flat and fertile, Best that mortals ever knew.

Once where roamed the bear and bison, Where the she wolf and the owl Made their home and habitation, And the foxes used to prowl; Where the serpent coiled and waited, Hid beneath the waving grass To inject his fangs and venom In some human as he'd pass,

Now there thrives the busy city, Bristling with the throb and thrill Of the commerce of a nation, Growing greater, growing still. All her farms and fields and ranches, Groan beneath their heavy load Of waving grain and lowing cattle; All the land with wealth is strewed.

Then he rose up like the morning, From his slumber and his rest, To converse there with the chieftains Among whom he'd been a guest. Then he spoke of Carolina Toward the rising of the sun, Full of hope and awe and splendor Where his early life begun.

And he spoke of Occoneechee In the land of hills and streams, In the land of wooded forests, Land of love and fondest dreams; Land where myths and mirth commingle, Where aspiring peaks point high, To the dials of the morning In the sweet "Land of the sky."

Spoke he also of a chieftain, Known to her as Whippoorwill, Who once dwelt within the forest, Near a pleasant little rill, In the dark fens of the mountains, Back where oak and birchen grove Cast their shadows o'er the valley O'er the cliffs and deepest cove.

Where glad song of the nightingale Is the sweetest ever heard, And far exceeds in melody, The trill of the mocking-bird. From the matutinal dawning Till the falling shades of night The songster sings in mellow tones To the auditor's delight.

Long in silence sat the chieftain, Long he listened quite intent, To the story of the stranger, Catching all he said and meant, Of the maiden of the mountains, Of the trees and songs of bird, And the story lingered with him, Every syllable and word.

Then the chieftain made inquiry Of the stranger true and bold, Who now came to tarry with them, Who was growing gray and old, Of the health and habitation Of the Eastern tribal band Who still dwelt amid the Smokies In his own sweet native land;

Where his heart felt first the wooing, Where his hope of youth ran high, 'Mid the hills of Carolina In the sweet "Land of the sky." In the land of flowers and sunshine, Land of silver-flowing streams, Land of promise full of blessings And of legends, myths and dreams;

Land of pretty maids and matrons, Home where generous hearts are true, Where the sunshine chases shadows Down the vaults of vaporous blue. Where the wild flight of the eagle Soars beyond the keenest eye, In recesses of the heavens, In the blue ethereal sky.

Rifting rocks and rolling rivers Doth adorn the hill and vale, Lilting melodies float outward On the vortex of the gale; This the land of Occoneechee, Land that Junaluska saw, Home of warrior, chief and maiden, Land of dauntless brave and squaw.

Let us go back to those mountains, Once more let us view those hills, And let me hear the voice once more Of the laughing streams and rills; And let me view with raptured eye The blossom of tree and vine, Once more inhale the sweet ozone, Under tulip tree and pine.

Those hills, delectable mountains, Outrival the scenes of Greece, Surpass in beauty and grandeur The Eagle or Golden Fleece. Those shrines and temples of granite, Glad sentinels of the free! There let me roam through dell once more, Let me glad and happy be.

Some speak of splendid balmy isles, Far out in the rolling sea, Of spicy groves, and vine-clad hills, And of things which are to be; Of nymphs and naiads of the past, Of lands of the brave and free, But none of these can e'er surpass The hills of Cherokee;

The hills where roamed the dusky maid, And the home of Whippoorwill, Where Occoneechee dreamed at night, By the gushing stream and rill. By strange enchanted mystic lake Where the wildest beasts are seen, Far back in the deep recess Of the mountain's verdure green.

"Let autumn's wind blow swift its gale, The season of summer flee, But I will soon my lover meet, In the 'land of the brave and free,' I'll leave Tahlequah in the West, With this warrior at my side. We'll travel as the fleetest winds Unless ill fates betide.

"While the morrow's stars are glowing, In the dials of the morn, I will start upon the journey, To the land where I was born." So he gathered up his chattels, Springing spryly on his steed, Made inquiry of the warrior, "Which of us shall take the lead?"

Then the warrior to the chieftain Quick replied, "I'll lead the way Far across the hill and valley, Mounted on this splendid bay." Then they said to friend and neighbor, Old-time chief and child and squaw, "At the dawning, we will leave you, Leave the town of Tahlequah;

"Leave the tribe and reservation, For a journey to the East, Where the tribesmen dwell together, Meet serenely, drink and feast, In a land where peace and pleasure Vie each other in the pace, Where the hopes of life are brightest To the fallen human race."

Just then came a gleam like lightning, Shooting forth its silver ray, Which precedes the golden splendor Of the fast approaching day. This the advent and the token For the brave to lead the way Out across the plain and valley Toward the coming king of day.

Then they seized the spear and trident, Bow and tomahawk and knife, And they left the scenes of conflict, With its turmoil and its strife; And they journeyed ever eastward, Days and many a-waning moon, Crossing river, lake and prairie, Spreading field and broad lagoon.

Saw the Wabash and Missouri, Cumberland and Tennessee, Saw the Holston in its beauty And the town of Chilhowee. Looked down on the Nolachucky, Saw Watauga's crystal flow Gleam from out the moon's reflection From the canyon's depths below.

Neptune, who pervades the water, Ne'er beheld a holier sight Than this happy, hopeful chieftain Did that crisp autumnal night. While he looked upon the water Bright and pure and crystalline, Fairest land and purest water Mortal eye had ever seen;

He beheld there in his vision Such a Naiad divine, That he put forth his endeavors, That he might the maid entwine; But she flew back like a phantom, Back into the crescent wave, From the presence of the chieftain And the relegated brave;

Flew back from him and departed And was lost to human eye; All that now lay out before him Was the stream and earth and sky. Full of disappointing beauty, Was the earth and sky and stream, When divested of the grandeur Of the vision and the dream.

Then he rambled through the mountains Over crag and rugged steep, Through the laurel bed and ivy By exertion did he creep; Through the hemlock and the balsam Under oak and birchen tree, Gazing through the heath before him If perchance that he might see

In the dim, dark, hazel distance, Far out on the mountainside Occoneechee, pure and lovely, Whom he longed to make his bride; Make his bride and dwell there with her 'Mid aspiring peak and dome; Longed to have her sit beside him, In his peaceful mountain home.

Wandered through the Craggy mountains Where no human foot had trod, And no eye had yet beheld it, Save the eye of Nature's God. For the spreading tree and forest Grew from out the virgin soil, And was free from all intrusions Of the white man's skill and toil.

Now their speed was much retarded, Trails once plain were now unkept, And the chief and brave lamenting Laid themselves down there and wept; Wept for chiefs like Uniguski, Sequoya and Utsala, In the land of Tuckaleechee And for friends like Wil-Usdi. [1]

Turning from his grief and sorrow For the chiefs of long ago, Ceasing all his deep repining From the burden of his woe, Looking far o'er hill and valley He beheld the gilded dome Of the Smokies in the distance, Near old Junaluska's home.

Then the chieftain's hope grew stronger, As he looked upon the scene Of that splendid mountain forest With its crest of evergreen; Like a black cloud in the winter, Spreads upon the mountainside, This the forest land primeval That stands there in lordly pride,

This the forest land primeval, Where the chieftains used to roam, Joined in chase of bear and bison, Once the red deer's winter home. Black and deep and dense the forest, Steep and high the cliffside stands, Where the Cherokee once wandered In their wild nomadic bands.

As they gazed upon the scenery, Weird and wild and full of awe, They were filled with consternation At the sight both of them saw. Passing high up near the zenith Like an eagle in its flight Came the sound of wings and voices, On that moonlit autumn night.

Voices like the rolling thunder Came resounding far and near, And the meteoric flashes Filled them full of awe and fear; Till they trembled like the aspen 'Mid the tempest fierce and wild, Till it passes, then reposes, Calmly as a little child.

Said the brave then to the chieftain, "This my token to depart, I must quickly make my exit, Though it grieves my soul and heart Thus to leave you in the forest, Out upon the mountainside, Without hope or friend or shelter, With no one to be your guide;

"These the Nunnahi in heaven, Come to lead me far away, Over hill and dale and valley, Toward the final close of day. You will miss me in the morning, Miss me at the noon and night, When I'm mounted on my pinions And am lost to human sight.

"Yet a moment I'm allotted To transmit to you my will; High here on the Smoky Mountains Near the bright translucent rill, Let me tell you while life lingers In the archives of my breast, Where you'll find sweet Occoneechee When my soul has flown to rest:

"She still lingers in the forest, Near the sweet enchanted lake, Near the spirit land she lingers, Underneath the tangled brake. She holds all our myths and legends, Tales as told long years ago. Now I bid you leave me lonely To my fate of weal or woe.

"Leave me quick, the spirits call me, Linger not within my sight, Hie thee quickly through the shadows Of this crisp autumnal night. Tell our friend, sweet Occoneechee, That I've gone to join the band Of the braves who have departed For the happy hunting land."

Then a shadow passed between them, Like a cloud upon the sky, And the chief was separated There upon the mountain high, From his guide and friend forever, So his eye could never see. Whence he traveled, none returneth To explain the mystery.

Thus bereft of friend and neighbor, Whippoorwill began to wail, For some mystic hand to guide him Back into the trodden trail, Where some chief had gone before him In the years that long had flown, Out upon the mystic ages, Now forgotten and unknown.

But no spirit, sign or token Came from out the vista fair, Nothing saw, nor nothing heard he, Save the earth and scenery fair. As he stood and gazed in silence, Motionless and calm as death, Stillness reigned on hill and valley And the chieftain held his breath,

While he strained his ears and vision, Listening, looking here and there, Waiting, watching, simply trusting For an answer to his prayer. Suddenly he heard the calling Of a voice so sweet and clear, That he answered, quickly answered, Though his heart was filled with fear.

And the voice from out the forest, Called as calls the mating bird, In the bower in the springtime, Sweetest call that e'er was heard, Resonant comes, softly trilling, Sweetly to its lingering mate, In the silence of the forest, As they for each other wait.

Then the chieftain bounded forward, Like a hound upon the trail, Thru the forest land primeval Over mound and hill and dale; Over ridge and rock and river, Thru the heath and brush and grass, Thru the land of the Uktena, Thru it all he had to pass.

Till he reached the mystic region, Far back in the darkest glen, Near the lake of the enchanted Only known to bravest men. Here the bear and owl and panther, Find a cure for every ill, Find life's sweetest panacea, Near the sparkling crystal rill,

High upon the Smoky Mountains Resonant with Nature wild, For the wanderer from the distance, And the tawny Indian child. This the forest land primeval, Full of awe and dread and dreams, Full of ghouls and ghosts and goblins, Full of rippling crystal streams.

From the stream down in the ravine, Came another gentle call, Like the chirping of the robin, In the hemlocks straight and tall. Once again the call repeated, Then a sudden little trill Floated out upon the breezes, From beside the crystal rill.

Then the chieftain whistled keenly Like a hawk upon the wing, When it soars above the mountain, On the balmy air of spring. Then another chirping, chirping, Came from deep down in the vale, And it floated up the mountain Like a leaf upon the gale.

Now the chieftain, moved by caution, Watched and moved with greatest care, Down and thru the deepest gulches, Looking here, observing there, For the bird or beast or human, That could send out such a call, From the laurel near the fountain And a splendid waterfall.

Suddenly his heart beat faster, At the sight which came to view, Through the opening in the laurel As it parts to let him thru. She was bathing feet and ankles, Arms and hands she did refresh In the iridescent splendor, Of the fountain cool and fresh.

Then he bounds forth quick to greet her, E'er she sees him by her side, She the maiden true and holy, Who was soon to be his bride. "O, I see you, Occoneechee!" "And I see you, Whippoorwill!" Were the greetings that they whispered As they met there near the rill.

They were married in the morning, He the groom and she the bride, And they lived in bliss together, Many years before they died; Now their spirits dwell together, Near the hidden mystic shore, Of the lake back in the shadows Since their wanderings are o'er.

And at night the legends tell us, You can hear a man and bride Hold converse of trail and travel, High upon the mountainside; And the soul of Occoneechee, Lingers near the rippling rill, High upon the Smoky Mountains, With her lover Whippoorwill.