Page:Hemans in Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine 25 1829.pdf/9

 In the darkness of the forest boughs, A lonely path I tread.

But my heart is high and fearless, As by mighty wings upborne; The mountain-eagle hath not plumes So strong as love and scorn.

I have raised thee from the grave-sod, By the white man's path defiled; On to th' ancestral wilderness I bear thy dust, my child!

I have ask'd the ancient deserts To give my dead a place, Where the stately footsteps of the free Alone should leave a trace:

And the rocking pines made answer— Go, bring us back thine own! And the streams from all the hunter's hills, Rush'd with an echoing tone.

Thou shalt rest by sounding waters, That yet untamed may roll; The voices of those chainless ones With joy shall fill thy soul.

In the silence of the midnight I journey with the dead, Where the arrows of my father's bow Their falcon-flight have sped.

I have left the spoilers' dwellings For evermore behind; Unmingled with their household sounds, For me shall sweep the wind.