 | Indian melodies |  |
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ADDRESS OF THE DYING WARRIOR.
Ah, cruel's the fate, and most bitter the woe,
That dooms me to fall in the land of the foe,
And leaves me all wounded and fainting to lie
In this dark dreary wood, where no kindred are nigh,
To mourn my departure, or light for the brave
The watch-fire of death on my desolate grave.
That dooms me to fall in the land of the foe,
And leaves me all wounded and fainting to lie
In this dark dreary wood, where no kindred are nigh,
To mourn my departure, or light for the brave
The watch-fire of death on my desolate grave.
Soon—soon will my body be cast from the eye,
And laid in the earth, where I know it must lie;
While you, my companions, who watch round my head,
With secret sensations of pity and dread,
Will return to that land—fairest land of the earth!
That witness'd my manhood and gave me my birth;
Where in boyhood I roved by the sweet silver shore,
But which I am doomed to revisit no more.
And laid in the earth, where I know it must lie;
While you, my companions, who watch round my head,
With secret sensations of pity and dread,
Will return to that land—fairest land of the earth!
That witness'd my manhood and gave me my birth;
Where in boyhood I roved by the sweet silver shore,
But which I am doomed to revisit no more.
Ye leave me—ye leave me—to moulder away,
Far away from my friends, and shut out from the day,
Where no youth of my nation my coffin shall spy,
With its war-tokens garnish'd, and scaffolded high;
But secret and stealthy, with voices supprest,
Deep, deep in the earth you will lay me to rest,
Where no friend shall re-visit—no foe shall espy
The leaf-cover'd sod where my ashes may lie;
No slow kindly foot shall return to the spot,
No sorrowful hand build the sepulchre-cot;
No voice my achievements or virtues repeat,
But evil-birds scream, and wild hurricanes beat.
Far away from my friends, and shut out from the day,
Where no youth of my nation my coffin shall spy,
With its war-tokens garnish'd, and scaffolded high;
But secret and stealthy, with voices supprest,
Deep, deep in the earth you will lay me to rest,
Where no friend shall re-visit—no foe shall espy
The leaf-cover'd sod where my ashes may lie;
No slow kindly foot shall return to the spot,
No sorrowful hand build the sepulchre-cot;
No voice my achievements or virtues repeat,
But evil-birds scream, and wild hurricanes beat.
But I go to rejoin in the fields of the blest,
My forefathers' shades, and be with them at rest;
With joy they shall mark my unfetter'd advance,
With battled-crown'd garland, and war-gleaming lance;
And with pride they shall hail their long-lingering son,
To the joys that his fame and his valour have won.
My forefathers' shades, and be with them at rest;
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With battled-crown'd garland, and war-gleaming lance;
And with pride they shall hail their long-lingering son,
To the joys that his fame and his valour have won.
Day shuts on my sight—I no longer can see,
Those looks that are tenderly cast upon me.
Cease, cease your kind efforts—all cares are in vain,
Death, death can alone stanch my wounds or my pain.
Ah, remember Camudwa was trusty and brave,
And visit, my friends, ah, re-visit his grave.
Now sinks my low pulse ... the world fades from my view,
And my friends—oh my friends!—he but whisper'd adieu.
Those looks that are tenderly cast upon me.
Cease, cease your kind efforts—all cares are in vain,
Death, death can alone stanch my wounds or my pain.
Ah, remember Camudwa was trusty and brave,
And visit, my friends, ah, re-visit his grave.
Now sinks my low pulse ... the world fades from my view,
And my friends—oh my friends!—he but whisper'd adieu.
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