This page has been validated.
245
DEATH AND THE WARRIOR.
"Aye, warrior, arm! and wear thy plume
On a proud and fearless brow!
I am the lord of the lonely tomb,
And a mightier one than thou!
"Bid thy soul's love farewell, young chief!
Bid her a long farewell!
Like the morning's dew shall pass that grief—
Thou comest with me to dwell!
"Thy bark may rush through the foaming deep,
Thy steed o'er the breezy hill;
But they bear thee on to a place of sleep,
Narrow, and cold, and still!"
"Was the voice I heard thy voice, O Death?
And is thy day so near?
Then on the field shall my life's last breath
Mingle with Victory's cheer!
