ALABAMA.

"Here we rest."

Ir was amid Magnolias,

With their blossoms broad and white,

An aged Indian warrior

Encamped his troop at night;

They were weary with their journey,
And with travel, toil-oppressed,
And they smiled to hear their leader say
"Alabama"-Here we rest.

The deer was in the thicket,

And the bear was in the brake,

And from the broad-leaved plant looked out

The bright-eyed rattle-snake;

But they kindled their red fires

As the sun sank in the west,

And said, when feast and pipe were past, "Alabama"-Here we rest.

They had wandered from the North-land,
Where the earth is clad in snows,
And saw 'mid leaves of polished green
The Cherokee's white rose,
And caught its balmy perfume,

Like the breath of spirits blest; And in their sleep they murmured "Alabama"-Here we rest.

Oft morn came, but they lingered
Where the mystic lakes were laid,
Like fallen moons of silver,

In the sable cypress shade.
Where long and trailing mosses

Hung around the cedar's breast, Full oft at night their song was heard, "Alabama"-Here we rest.

They were happy in their hunting,
They were happy in their love,
Their glee was like the mocking-bird,
Their grief was like the dove;
And many a bold young savage
Clasping closely to his chest,
Whispered to his fawn-eyed maiden,
"Alabama"-Here we rest.

There was freedom in the forest

Where they were wont to roam,

The stranger never asked in vain

For shelter, or for home,

But said, when they had shared their meal

With every welcome guest,

"Our wigwam door is open,
"Alabama"-Here we rest.

They had robes of elk and otter,
They had plumes of many dyes,
And the claws of mountain eagles,
Whose homes are in the skies-
And many a gem and polished shell,
Bedecked the rustic vest

Of maid, or hunter free, who sang
"Alabama"-Here we rest.

They worshipped God in silence,
In the wilderness, alone-
They saw him ride the thunder storm,
And in the sun his throne;

And when the moon, a silver bow,
Hung on the pine's high crest,
And all was hushed, they whispered low
"Alabama"-Here we rest.

They rose, when morning's ladders
First lace the eastern sky,

And the train of dream-land angels

Climb from earth aloft on high,

And all day long they chased the game With never flagging zest,

But cheerful said, by night's red flame, "Alabama"-Here we rest.

Their dwellings all were simple,
Such as Nature's children use,
And the might of all their navy
But a fleet of frail canoes;

And up rose from the flag-fringed lakes
The wild fowl, from her nest,
As they slowly paddled, singing
"Alabama"--Here we rest.

Their fields of tall maize fluttered
In the sunshine's golden sheen,
And showed alternate in the breeze
Its changeful dark and green;
Above, the crimson oriole

Swung with her pendant nest, And sung securely to her young "Alabama"-Here we rest.

There reigned eternal summer,
And there was ever heard,
Amid the snow-white orange bloom,

The magic mocking-bird.

The green-leaved fruit of gold, full oft

The young wild maiden pressed,