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THE PERUVIAN'S DIRGE OVER THE BODY
OF HIS FATHER.
From the Stranger's field of death.
While at the pious task
Thou badest the clouds of night
But didst thou not see my toil,
Wretched, my Father, thy life!
All day for another he toils ;
My Father! for then thou wert free.
And when, with the song and the dance,
Ye brought the harvest home,
3. Thou visible Lord of the Earth, Thou God of my Fathers, thou God of my heart,
O Giver of light and of life!
When the Strangers came to our shores,
Thy thunders should then have been hurled,
Visible God of the Earth,
They force us to bow the knee;
Where never thy blessed light
Shines on our poisonous toil !
We pine for the want of thy beams,
Rest with the dust of thy Sires !
And over thy breathless frame
Oh! could thy bones be at peace
Alone, in danger and in pain,
Allow me one faithful friend
So may he summon me soon,
Where the Strangers never shall come!
SONG OF THE ARAUCANS DURING A
The storm-cloud grows deeper above; Araucans! the tempest is ripe in the sky; Our forefathers come from the 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 through the
heaven; Yon cloud that rolls luridly 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
Ye Souls of our Fathers, be brave!
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 fulness 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
Joy! joy! for the Strangers recoil ; They give way, they retreat, they are routed, they
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. WESTBURY,
SONG OF THE CHIKKASAH WIDOW.
'Twas the voice of my husband that came on the
Rest, rest, Ollanahta, be still !