Page:Tales and Historic Scenes.pdf/195

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And swear upon the cross, to cast Oblivion's mantle o'er the past."

No voice replies—the holy bands Advance to where yon chieftain stands. With folded arms and brow of gloom O'ershadow'd by his floating plume To him they lift the cross—in vain He turns—oh! say not with disdain, But with a mien of haughty grief, That seeks not, e'en from heaven, relief: He rends his robes—he sternly speaks— Yet tears are on the warrior's cheeks.

"Father! not thus the wounds may close Inflicted by eternal foes. Deem'st thou thy mandate can efface The dread volcano's burning trace? Or bid the earthquake's ravaged scene Be, smiling, as it once hath been? No!—for the deeds the sword hath done Forgiveness is not lightly won; The words, by hatred spoke, may not Be, as a summer breeze, forgot!