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Updated: May 12, 2025
'twas branded deep and dark; The letter F in Arab script, stood out the sacred mark. By the color of his courser he wished it to be seen That the soul of the King's Admiral was white and true and clean. Oh, swift and full of mettle was the steed which that day bore Mustapha, the High Admiral, down to the wave-beat shore!
"What's your pleasure?" observed the Amazon, folding her arms in a defiant manner, while through the open door they could now hear distinctly the cobbler's subdued and singularly toneless voice meandering on "O'er earth's green fields, and ocean's wave-beat shore." "Deuce take the man!" continued the woman wrathfully. "Will you hold your old doddering tongue, Caleb, and let the gentlefolk speak!"
Once twice, I was struck with cruel force upon the head then a loud roaring in my ears drowned everything. I can remember well the first return of consciousness. It was like the slow breaking of dawn in the sky. I could hear voices singing: Hark! hark! my soul! angelic voices swelling O'er earth's green fields and ocean's wave-beat shore. I could just distinguish those words.
Ossian never spoke with the voice of the mist-shrouded mountain or the wave-beat shores of the isles more thoroughly than does this chief of the Blackfeet or the Sioux speak the voices of the things of earth and air amidst which his wild life is cast. I know that it is the fashion to hold in derision and mockery the idea that nobility, poetry, or eloquence exist in the wild Indian.
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