26
CHICOMICO.
And yet it seemed as mortal ire
Still sparkled in that eye of fire,
And, blazing, soon should light the face
O'er which death's shadow held its place,
And like the lightning 'neath a cloud,
Shoot flaming from its sable shroud.
But, hark! low notes of sorrow break
The solemn calm, and o'er the lake,
Float on the bosom of the gale;
Hark! 'tis the Chieftain's funeral wail!
Still sparkled in that eye of fire,
And, blazing, soon should light the face
O'er which death's shadow held its place,
And like the lightning 'neath a cloud,
Shoot flaming from its sable shroud.
But, hark! low notes of sorrow break
The solemn calm, and o'er the lake,
Float on the bosom of the gale;
Hark! 'tis the Chieftain's funeral wail!
Fallen, fallen, fallen low
Lies great Hillis-ha-ad-joe!
To the land of the dead,
By the white man sped!
In his hunting garb they shall welcome him there,
To the land of the bow and the antlered deer!
Lies great Hillis-ha-ad-joe!
To the land of the dead,
By the white man sped!
In his hunting garb they shall welcome him there,
To the land of the bow and the antlered deer!
Fallen is Hillis-ha-ad-joe!
Chant his death-dirge sad and slow;
In the battle he fell, in the fight he died,
And many a brave warrior sunk by his side.
In his hunting garb they shall welcome him there,
To the land of the bow and the antlered deer.
Chant his death-dirge sad and slow;
In the battle he fell, in the fight he died,
And many a brave warrior sunk by his side.
In his hunting garb they shall welcome him there,
To the land of the bow and the antlered deer.
The sun is sinking in the deep,
Our "mighty fallen one" we weep;
Fallen is Hillis-ha-ad-joe!
The axe has laid our broad oak low!
In his hunting garb they shall welcome him there,
To the land of the bow and the antlered deer.
Our "mighty fallen one" we weep;
Fallen is Hillis-ha-ad-joe!
The axe has laid our broad oak low!
In his hunting garb they shall welcome him there,
To the land of the bow and the antlered deer.
