Ponteach.

Ponteach.

Indians a'n't Fools, if White Men think us so;

We see, we hear, we think as well as you;

We know there 're Lies, and Mischiefs in the World;

We don't know whom to trust, nor when to fear;

Men are uncertain, changing as the Wind,

Inconstant as the Waters of the Lakes,

Some smooth and fair, and pleasant as the Sun,

Some rough and boist'rous, like the Winter Storm;

Some are Insidious as the subtle Snake,

Some innocent, and harmless as the Dove;

Some like the Tyger raging, cruel, fierce,

Some like the Lamb, humble, submissive, mild,

And scarcely one is every Day the same;

But I call no Man bad, till such he's found,

Then I condemn and cast him from my Sight;

And no more trust him as a Friend and Brother.

I hope to find you honest Men and true.

Sharp.

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