O Sun, are we mindless of thee!

We pine for the want of thy beams, We adore thee with anguish and groans.

My Father, rest in peace!

Rest with the dust of thy Sires!
They plac'd their Cross in thy dying grasp,..
They bore thee to their burial place,
And over thy breathless frame
Their bloody and merciless Priest,
Mumbled his mystery words.

Oh! could thy bones be at peace

In the fields where the Strangers are laid ?...
Alone, in danger and in pain,
My Father, I bring thee here:
So may our God, in reward,
Allow me one faithful friend

To lay me beside thee when I am released!
So may he release me soon,

That my Spirit may join thee there,

Where the Strangers never shall come!

SONG of the ARAUCANS

During a THUNDER STORM.

The storm cloud grows deeper above;
Araucans! the tempest is ripe in the sky;
Our forefathers come from their Islands of Bliss,
They come to the war of the winds.

The Souls of the Strangers are there, In their garments of darkness they ride thro' the heaven; The cloud that so lurid rolls over the hill

Is red with their weapons of fire.

Hark! hark! in the howl of the wind

The shout of the battle, the clang of their drums,
The horsemen are met, and the shock of the fight
Is the blast, that disbranches the wood.

Behold from the clouds of their power

The lightning, the lightning is lanced at our sires!
And the thunder that shakes the broad pavement of Heaven!
And the darkness that quenches the day!

Ye Souls of our Fathers be brave!
Ye shrunk not before the invaders on earth,
Ye trembled not then at their weapons of fire,
Brave Spirits ye tremble not now!

We gaze on your warfare in hope,

We send up our shouts to encourage your arms!
Lift the lance of your vengeance O Fathers! with force,
For the wrongs of your country strike home!

Remember the land was your own

When the Sons of Destruction came over the seas;
That the old fell asleep in the fullness of days
And their children wept over their graves.

Till the Strangers came into the land

With tongues of deceit and with weapons of fire,
Then the strength of the people in youth was cut off,
And the father wept over his son..

It thickens.. the tumult of fight,

Louder and louder the blast of the battle is heard,.. Remember the wrongs that your country endures! Remember the fields of your fame!

Joy! joy for the Strangers recoil,.. They give way,.. they retreat to the land of their life! Pursue them! pursue them! remember your wrongs! Let your lances be drunk with their wounds.

The Souls of your wives shall rejoice

As they welcome you back to your Islands of Bliss; And the breeze that refreshes the toil-throbbing brow Waft thither the song of your praise.

SONG of the CHIKKASAH WIDOW.

'Twas the voice of my husband that came on the gale. The unappeas'd Spirit in anger complains,

Rest, rest Ollanahta, be still!
The day of revenge is at hand.

The stake is made ready, the captives shall die;
To-morrow the song of their death shalt thou hear,
To-morrow thy widow shall wield

The knife and the fire;... be at rest!

The vengeance of anguish shall soon have its course, .
The fountains of grief and of fury shall flow,..
I will think Ollanahta! of thee,

Will remember the days of our love.

Ollanahta, all day by thy war-pole I sat
Where idly thy hatchet of battle is hung;
I gazed on the bow of thy strength
As it waved on the stream of the wind.