THE CHIEF.
The bark speeds o'er the bounding sea:
Harold is free! is free!
The cloudless sun's rejoicing light
Makes ev'ry heaving billow bright,
And louder than a horn at night
Is heard, "He's free! he's free!"
Harold is free! is free!
The cloudless sun's rejoicing light
Makes ev'ry heaving billow bright,
And louder than a horn at night
Is heard, "He's free! he's free!"
He lands upon the battle plain:
He comes! he comes again!
His steed flies swiftly o'er the field;
In triumph he his sword doth wield,
And shouts, "They die! they die who yield!"
And fiercely fights again!
*******
Deep shadows shroud the mournful plain:
The youthful Chief is slain:
Far o' er the distant echoing hills
The cry of death the night-air fills,
And anguish every bosom thrills:
Harold was brave in vain.
He comes! he comes again!
His steed flies swiftly o'er the field;
In triumph he his sword doth wield,
And shouts, "They die! they die who yield!"
And fiercely fights again!
*******
Deep shadows shroud the mournful plain:
The youthful Chief is slain:
Far o' er the distant echoing hills
The cry of death the night-air fills,
And anguish every bosom thrills:
Harold was brave in vain.
1850.