What A Melancholy History Is That Of The Red Man!

What A Melancholy History Is That Of The Red Man!
What A Melancholy History Is That Of The Red Man!

Yes ! tho’ they all have passed away, —

That noble race and brave,
Though their light canoes have vanished

From off the crested wave ;
Though ‘mid the forests where they roved.

There rings no hunter’s shout, —
Yet their names are on our waters,

And we may not wash them out
Their memory liveth on our hills,

Their baptism on our shore, —
Our everlasting rivers speak

Their dialect of yore
‘Tis heard where Chattahoochee pours

His yellow tide along ;
It sounds on Tallapoosa’s shores,

And Coosa swells the song ;
Where lordly Alabama sweeps,

The symphony remains ;
And young Cahawba proudly keeps

The echo of its strains ;
Where Tuscaloosa’s waters glide,

From stream and town ’tis heard.
And dark Tombeckbee’s winding tide

Eepeats the olden word ;
Afar, where nature brightly wreathed

Fit Edens for the Free,
Along Tuscumbia’s bank ’tis breathed,

By stately Tennessee ;
And south, where from Conecuh’s springs,

Escambia’s waters steal,
The anoient melody still rings,—

From Tensaw and Mobile.

Credit: History of Conecuh County, Alabama by Rev. B.F. Riley, 1881