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 | The poetical works of William H. C. Hosmer |  |
258
SEMINOLE WAR-SONGS.
I.
Our women leave in fear
Their lodges in the shade,
And the dread notes of fray go up
From swamp and everglade.
From ancient coverts scared
Fly doe and bleating fawn,
While the pale robber beats his drum—
On, to the conflict, on!
Their lodges in the shade,
And the dread notes of fray go up
From swamp and everglade.
From ancient coverts scared
Fly doe and bleating fawn,
While the pale robber beats his drum—
On, to the conflict, on!
Shall tomahawk and spear
Be dark with peaceful rust,
While blood is on the funeral mound
That holds ancestral dust?
No!—fiercely from its sheath
Let the keen knife be drawn,
And the dread rifle charged with death!—
On, to the conflict, on!
Be dark with peaceful rust,
While blood is on the funeral mound
That holds ancestral dust?
No!—fiercely from its sheath
Let the keen knife be drawn,
And the dread rifle charged with death!—
On, to the conflict, on!
The ground our fathers trod,
Free as the wind, is ours;
And the red cloud of war shall soak
The land with crimson showers.
Upon our tribe enslaved,
Bright Morn shall never dawn
While arm can strike, or weapon pierce!—
On, to the conflict, on!
Free as the wind, is ours;
And the red cloud of war shall soak
The land with crimson showers.
Upon our tribe enslaved,
Bright Morn shall never dawn
While arm can strike, or weapon pierce!—
On, to the conflict, on!
259
II.
Fire, famine, and slaughter,
Have wasted our band—
Our life-blood like water
Has moistened the land;
But truly our rifles
The bullet will speed,
While an arm can be lifted—
One bosom can bleed.
Have wasted our band—
Our life-blood like water
Has moistened the land;
But truly our rifles
The bullet will speed,
While an arm can be lifted—
One bosom can bleed.
The raven is croaking
A dirge for the slain—
Our cabins lie smoking
On prairie and plain;
But paths we will follow
To carnage that lead,
While an arm can be lifted—
One bosom can bleed.
A dirge for the slain—
Our cabins lie smoking
On prairie and plain;
But paths we will follow
To carnage that lead,
While an arm can be lifted—
One bosom can bleed.
Our old men lie mangled
By wild wolf and bear;
Our babes we have strangled—
Dread act of despair;
And Vengeance will nerve us
To desperate deed,
While an arm can be lifted—
One bosom can bleed.
By wild wolf and bear;
Our babes we have strangled—
Dread act of despair;
And Vengeance will nerve us
To desperate deed,
While an arm can be lifted—
One bosom can bleed.
Pale robbers are swarming
In hammock and vale—
Their squadrons are forming
With flags on the gale:
We dread not their footmen,
Armed rider and steed,
While an arm can be lifted—
One bosom can bleed.
In hammock and vale—
Their squadrons are forming
With flags on the gale:
We dread not their footmen,
Armed rider and steed,
While an arm can be lifted—
One bosom can bleed.
| The poetical works of William H. C. Hosmer | |