72
His eyes, that hailed your spirit's flame,
Still kindling in the combat's shock,
Have seen, since darkness veiled your fame,
Sons of the desert and the rock!
Another, and another race,
Rise to the battle and the chace.
Descendants of the mighty dead!
Fearless of heart, and firm of hand!
Oh! let me join their spirits fled,
Oh! send me to their shadowy land.
Age hath not tamed Ontara's heart,
He shrinks not from the friendly dart.
These feet no more can chase the deer,
The glory of this arm is flown—
Why should the feeble linger here,
When all the pride of life is gone?
Warriors! why still the stroke deny,
Think ye Ontara fears to die?
He feared not in his flower of days,
When strong to stem the torrent's force,
