BARTRAM'S INFLUENCE ON LITERATURE 179 



the axe, now to cut down the tree, and now the snakes that nestled in 

 it. Then see me grubbing up the roots, and building a nice snug httle 

 dairy with them, three rooms in my cottage, and my only companion some 

 poor negro whom I have bought on purpose to emancipate. After a hard 

 day's toil, see me sleep upon rushes, and, in very bad weather, take 

 out my casette and write to you . . . till at last comes an ill-looking 

 Indian with a tomahawk, and scalps me . . . poor Southey will ... be 

 cooked for a Cherokee. . . .^ 



Southey specifically mentions Bartram in a note to Madoc. 

 Referring to the lines 



On the top 

 Of yon magnolia the loud turkey's voice 

 Is heralding the dawn, 



he quotes this passage from Bartram: 



I was awakened in the morning early, by the cheering converse of 

 the wild turkey-cock {Meleagris occidentalis) saluting each other, from 

 the sun-brightened tops of the lofty Cupressus distkha and Magnolia 

 grandiflora. They begin at early dawn, and continue till sun-rise, from 

 March to the last of April. The high forests ring with the noise, like 

 the crowing of the domestic cock, of these social centinels, the watch- 

 word being caught and repeated, from one to another, for hundreds 

 of miles around; insomuch, that the whole country is, for an hour or 

 more, in a universal shout. A little after sun-rise, their crowing gradu- 

 ally ceases, they quit their high lodging places, and alight on the earth, 

 where, expanding their silver-bordered train, they strut and dance round 

 about the coy female, while the deep forests seem to tremble with their 

 shrill noise. — Bartram. ^ 



To appreciate the use that Southey made of Bartram it is neces- 

 sary to quote more than the few lines from his poem which he 

 himself quotes. 



The owls have ceased their night-song. On the top 

 Of yon magnolia the loud turkey's voice 

 Is heralding the dawn; from tree to tree 

 Extends the wakening watch-note, far and wide, 

 Till the whole woodlands echo with the cry. 

 Now breaks the morning — (XI, 29-34) 



" Ibid., p. 196. 



'Poetical Works, V, 429. The quotation is from Travels, pp. 81-82 (second 

 London ed) ; pp. 83-84 (Phila. ed.). 

 13 



