Poems (Baldwyn)/The Chief
THE CHIEF.
The bark speeds o'er the bounding sea: Harold is free! is free! The cloudless sun's rejoicing light Makes ev'ry heaving billow bright, And louder than a horn at night Is heard, "He's free! he's free!"
He lands upon the battle plain: He comes! he comes again! His steed flies swiftly o'er the field; In triumph he his sword doth wield, And shouts, "They die! they die who yield!" And fiercely fights again! *******Deep shadows shroud the mournful plain: The youthful Chief is slain: Far o' er the distant echoing hills The cry of death the night-air fills, And anguish every bosom thrills: Harold was brave in vain.
1850.