Chekitan Monologue from Ponteach; Or, The Savages of America

From Ponteach; Or, The Savages of America by Robert Rogers

male · defiant · 1:23 min

Something like this I have indeed perceiv'd; And this explains what I but now beheld, Returning from the Chace, myself concealed, Our Royal Father basking in the Shade, His Looks severe, Revenge was in his Eyes, All his great Soul seem'd mounted in his Face, And bent on something hazardous and great. With pensive Air he view'd the Forest round; Smote on his Breast as if oppress'd with Wrongs, With Indignation stamp'd upon the Ground; Extended then and shook his mighty Arm, As in Defiance of a coming Foe; Then like the hunted Elk he forward sprung, As tho' to trample his Assailants down. The broken Accents murmur'd from his Tongue, As rumbling Thunder from a distant Cloud, Distinct I heard, "'Tis fix'd, I'll be reveng'd; I will make War; I'll drown this Land in Blood." He disappear'd like the fresh-started Roe Pursu'd by Hounds o'er rocky Hills and Dales, That instant leaves the anxious Hunter's Eye; Such was his Speed towards the other Chiefs.

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