1820-30.] WILLIAM R. SCHENCK. 75 Rolls on his head, his firmness sinks be- neath it ; And, losing confidence, he loseth strength. Abandons hope, and sinks into eternity. Such is the fear a suicide betrays — Is madly brave, but braving heaven's a coward. THE MUSQUITOES. AvAUNT, ye crew of butch'ring devils, Ye worst of all the summer's evils ; Leave, leave your fell, blood-thirsty revels, And me in peace. Or cease ye, foul, tormenting crew. Your nightly song, your cursed tattoo ; Worse than the Shawnee's dread halloo, Your war-song cease. Drive home your blood-ensanguined stings, Bathe in the red tide's crimson springs ; But curse the noise your banquet brings, Let that subside. I hold but lightly all your stinging, Though blood from every pore were spring- ing; I'd murmur not, but oh, your singing I can't abide. Then cease, ere I'm to madness driven ; I've blood enough to spare, thank heaven ! Asd what I have's as freely given, As quaffed by you. " Music hath charms " for many a mind, Than mine more music'ly inclined. Then sing for them, pray be so kind, And bleed me — do ! Do this — or by my many wrongs, I'll clog your boist'rous, brawling lungs, And stop the concert of your tongues With sulph'rous clouds. INDIAN DEATH SONG. FoEMEN of my nation's race, Warriors oft in battle tried, Oft I've met you face to face, Oft in blood my hatchet dyed, But now my race is run : No more I hurl the bolt of war ; No more I shine my nation's star. To guide their vengeance from afar ; For now will Alvin's son Soar to the land beyond the sky. I've bravely lived, I'll bravely die. Warriors, 'midst the thick'ning fight, Beneath my arm brave Osci died ; The hero sunk beneath my might. Your nation's boast, your nation's pride, I glory in the deed. And where your choicest kinsmen fought, My choicest vengeance there was sought. Your Avidest ruin there was wrought, Your bi'avest sons did bleed. The shades of those heroic dead Livoke your vengeance on my head. Then higher build my funeral throne, Then higher raise the raging flame, And not one murmur, not one groan Shall sully Orvan's deathless fame. Think how once burst my warrior flood ; Remember how before me sank Your bravest friends, your failing ranks ; Remember how my hatchet drank Your warmest, choicest blood, I scorn your power; I scorn your wrath • I curse you with my latest breath.
