THE INDIAN GIRL'S LAMENT.
William Cullen Bryant. Arr. from Felix Mendelssohn-Bartholdy.
Andante.
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1. An In - dian girl was sit - ting where Her lov - er, slain in
2. '"Twas I the broid-ered moc - sen made, That shod thee for that
3. With wam - pum belts I cross'd thy breast, And wrapped thee in the
4. Thou'rt hap - py now, for thou hast passed The long dark jour - ney
5. Yet, oft to thine own In - dian maid Even there thy thoughts will
bat - tle, slept; Her maid - en veil, her own black hair. Came
dis - tant land; ’Twas I thy bow and ar - rows laid Be -
bi - son's hide, And laid the food that pleased thee best In
of the grave, And in the land of light at last, Hast
earth-ward stray— To her who sits where though wert laid, And
down o'er eyes, o'er eyes that wept; And wild - ly, in her
side thy still, thy still cold hand; Thy bow in many a
plen - ty, plen - ty by thy side; And decked thee brave-ly
joined the good, the good and brave A - mid the flushed and
weeps the hours, the hours a - way. Yet al - most can her
This sad and simp - ple lay she sung. . . . .
Thy ar - rows nev - er vain - ly sent. . . . .
A war - rior of il - lus - trious name. . . . .
The brav - est and the love - liest there. . . . .
To think that thou dost love her yet. . . . .
wood-land tongue, This sand and sim-ple, sim-ple lay she sung:
bat - tle bent, Thy ar - rows nev-er vain - ly sent.
as be-came A war-rior, war-rior of il - lus - trious name.
balm-y air, The bravest, bravest and the love - liest there.
grief forget, To think that though, that thou dost lover her yet."
