FREEDOM'S WATCHWORD.
41
The Past the glorious Past is there, magnificent and lone,
And old affection takes her seat upon the phantom throne,
And points with trembling hand to days—days passed forever by,
When hand was met by kindred hand, and eye met kindred eye.
How could they throw aside the chain, or how unloose the band,
That bound them to the parent-stem, the far-famed motherland?
And old affection takes her seat upon the phantom throne,
And points with trembling hand to days—days passed forever by,
When hand was met by kindred hand, and eye met kindred eye.
How could they throw aside the chain, or how unloose the band,
That bound them to the parent-stem, the far-famed motherland?
And on the fame of other years, remembrance looked with pride,
When brave hearts undivided stood, together, side by side;
When brave men smiled to see beneath the forest's shining leaf,
What gleaming orbs of fire bespoke, the dark-browed Indian chief.
And rising in illustrious shape, as if their eyes to mock,
They see the feathered arrows strike—the glittering tomahawk;
Oh! mutual danger met, endeared them to each other more
Than all the pleasures they had quaffed upon the banquet-floor.
When brave hearts undivided stood, together, side by side;
When brave men smiled to see beneath the forest's shining leaf,
What gleaming orbs of fire bespoke, the dark-browed Indian chief.
And rising in illustrious shape, as if their eyes to mock,
They see the feathered arrows strike—the glittering tomahawk;
Oh! mutual danger met, endeared them to each other more
Than all the pleasures they had quaffed upon the banquet-floor.
