72
INDIAN MAIDEN'S LAMENT.
Once the sun its bright rays darted Over lands no white man trod;Now the Indian, broken-hearted, Sadly pressed his native sod.
With the fires of anger flashing From her dark and piercing eye,Scornfully the tear-drops dashing, Checking ev'ry rising sigh,
Wild and fearful words she uttered In that still, sequestered place;Wrathful imprecations muttered On the white man and his race.
"Time shall come, O pale-faced nation! When the Spirit ye call GodShall pour woe and desolation Over all the land so broad;
"Blood and carnage, like a river, Shall sweep o'er your country wide,Making hearts with anguish quiver, Bearing death-groans on its tide."
Then her voice grew low; and sadness Lingered o'er the maiden's words.Hushed seemed ev'ry note of gladness 'Mong the warbling forest birds.
