Remember the arrows he shot from his bow;
Remember your chiefs by his hatchet laid low.
Why so slow? Do you wait till I shrink from the pain?
No! the son of Alknomook shall never complain.
Remember the wood where in ambush we lay,
And the scalps which we bore from your nation away:
Now the flame rises fast; ye exult in my pain;
But the son of Alknomook can never complain.
I go to the land where my father is gone;
His ghost shall rejoice in the fame of his son.
Death comes like a friend, to relieve me from pain;
And thy son, O Alknomook, has scrn'd to complain!
Wedded Love.
[Alex. Laing.— Air, "Carolan's Receipt."]
We sought the green, the shady grove,
When life was young and love was new:
We pledg'd the vows of purest love,
And with our years affection grew.
Now in the cot on yonder brow,
Around with folding ivy wove,
The Shannon's winding stream in view,
How bless'd we'll live on wedded love.
And though our fortune is but low,
Though we have yet but little store,
I'll wield the spade, and ply the hoe,
And strive to make that little more;
And when my daily toil is o'er,
With cheerful heart I'll homeward move—
And smiling peace, and plenty, sure,
Will bless the home of wedded love!
Time cannot blot.
[William Holmes.—Here first printed.]
Time cannot blot from memory's book
The record of those tender ties,
Sprung from that first and silent look
Of ours into each other's eyes.
Yet neither of us read aright
The language of each other's heart,
Or thou would'st not my passion slight,
Nor I be grieved from thee to part.
I dream't, while gazing on thy face,
A soul was beaming on thy smile;
Alas! it was a maiden grace
My fancy furnished all the while.
'Tis ever thus that love is blind:
My heart, though open to thy view,
Seem'd but a picture, which thy mind
Of its own icy coldness drew.
Farewell, farewell!—still thou wilt seem
Unchang'd till my life's latest even;
The image of a blessed dream,
That gave to earth the light of heaven.
Our gudeman.
[Alex. Laing.]
Our gudeman's aye frae hame,
Aye frae hame, aye frae hame;
Our gudeman's aye frae hame,
Drunken doited carlie!
Yet a' the wark about the town,
Out an' in gaes brawly on,
Our Johnny's sic an unco loun,
For workin' late and early!
I fee'd the chiel' at Candlemas,
At Candlemas, at Candlemas;
I fee'd the chiel' at Candlemas,
To saw the aits and barley;
But Johnny's ready, young, an' teugh,
An' foremost aye at cart an' pleugh:
An' never thinks he works aneugh,
Though workin' late an' early.
The corbie-craw came here yestreen,
Came here yestreen, emie here yestreen,
The corbie-craw came here yestreen,
An' croaked lang and sairly,—
Oh! were he fey that's nightly fu',
Had mools an' maggots ance their due,
Our Johnny maunna ha'e to rue,
His workin' late and early.
