Page:Poems Davidson.djvu/71

To the sorrow-wrung drops which around it may flow,
But 'twill melt like the snow on the Apennine's breast,
As the sunbeam falls light on its fancy-crowned crest,
When the voice of a child to its cold ear is given,
Filled with sorrow's sad notes like the music of heaven.

"Loose the white man," the king in agony cried,
"My child, what you plead for, can ne'er be denied!
The prisoner is yours! to enslave or to free!
I yield him, Chicomico, wholly to thee,
But remember!" he cried, while pride conquered his woe,'
"Remember, thy father is Hillis-ad-joe!"
He frowned, and his brow, like the curtains of night,
Looked darker, when tinged by a moonbeam of light;
Chicomico saw—she saw, and with dread,
The storm, which returning, might burst o'er her head;
And quickly to Rathmond she turned with a sigh,
While a love-brightened tear veiled her heavenly eye.

"Go, white man, go! without a fear;
Remember you to one are dear;
Go! and may peace your steps attend;
Chicomico will be your friend.
To-morrow eve with us may close
Joyful, and free from cares or woes;
To-morrow eve may also end,
And find me here without a friend!
Remember then the Indian maid,
Whose voice the burning brand hath stayed!
But should I be, as now I am,