RECITATIONS.
outalissi's death-song.
And I could weep;"—the Oneyda chief
His descant wildly thus begun;
But that I may not stain with grief
The death-song of my father's son!
Or bow his head in woe;
For, by my my wrongs and by my wrath;
To-morrow Areouski's breath,
That fires yon heaven with storms of death,
Shall light us to the foe:
And we shall share, my Christian boy,
The foeman's blood, the avenger's joy;
But thee, my flower, whose was given
By milder genii o'er the deed,
The spirit of the whiteman's heaven
Forbid not thee to weep,:—
Nor will the Christian host,
Nor will thy father's spirit grieve,
To see thee, on the battle's eve,
Lamenting, take a' mournful leave
Of her who loved thee most:
She was the rainbow to thy sight!
Thy sun—thy heaven—of lost delight!
