Obed’s Altar - The Flight of “Red Bird”

                                                    

                                                   

On the heights above the river,

Looking southward to Long Island

Stood the Indian home of Obed,

     Stood his cabin lone and high;

With him lived hi comely daughter,

Lived his only daughter “Red Bird”,

Now a robust, lovely maiden,

     She the apple of his eye.

She had lovers from the Pequots,

She had lovers from the Island,

All the braves for miles around her

     Sought her hand, but all in vain;

To their tales she would not listen,

For her heart went out to “White Face”,

He the mighty Yankee hunter

     Of the forest and the plain.

Obed, stern and true to Nature,

With disfavor looked on “White Face”,

And forbade his daughter, “Red Bird”

     To the whiteman’s ardent gaze;

Then within the darkest forest

Did he meet her clandestinely;

Thus their hearts sang love’s hosannas

     Through the silent summer days.

Then a jealous, spying Pequot,

Who was haunting stream and forest,

Came upon the happy lovers,

     And to Obed told the tale;

Obed, full of wrath and hatred,

Ever after in his absence

Locked his daughter in the cabin –

     Grew she silent sad and pale.

One day Obed came from Saybrooke,

When he’d been attending worship,

For ‘tis said he was converted,

     And he found his daughter fled;

She had taken her belongings,

And her trail led to the river,

Where in utter consternation

     Broken-hearted Obed sped.

Print of maid and print of lover

Did he trail through field and meadow

Till at last he reached the river,

     Where her birch-bark was no more;

Far out on the waters rolling,

From the storm that was arising,

Did he see the lovers fleeing

     For the dim Long Island shore.

Then the storm broke loose with fury,

And the shell-like craft was beaten

On the mad waves like a feather,

     Till was lost from human sight;

Obed, dazed and bent with sorrow,

Turned him back unto his cabin,

Now a place of chill and darkness,

     Cursing “White Face” through the night.

Gone his only daughter “Red Bird”,

Gone the hope and joy of Obed,

Last of tribe and name of Obed,

     On the fatal Saybrooke shoal;

Sought he then the famous boulder,

Known to fame as “Obed’s Altar”,

Where he threw himself in sorrow,

     And in agony of soul.

Sunday came, the church was opened,

But no Obed came to worship,

And they wondered at his absence,

     Seldom did he keep away;

When they sought him on the morrow

Dead they found him on his altar,

On his altar on the hillside,

     Where it stands in peace today.

July 16, ‘05

Obed's Altar, with Irene on altar and JC in front