Adieu to these green vales,
And to the pleasant shades,
Where oft I sate and listened to the song
Of birds at morn, and, in the evening hour,
To that which gives the alarm, and bids the band
Of Indian warriors grasp their spears.
No more my ears shall hear those sounds,
In this my father's land;
The notes of singing-birds shall pass me by,
And the soft sighing of the month of buds;
But I shall hear no howl of wolves,
Nor cry of famished bears,
Nor hissing of envenomed snakes,
Nor what more chills the heart,
The tyranny of father, brothers, friends.
Nor shall I be compelled
For ever to behold a hated face,
And shudder at the voice of him who sleeps
Beneath my blanket;
Nor, when within my cabin,
Young faces smile on old ones, shall I wish
Another eye looked on their beaming cheeks;
When the storms howl, I shall not think of one,
Alone in the far forest,
With none to spread his blanket,
With none to build his lodge--
Cold, hungry, lonely, in the desert glen.
But I shall cross the sharp and fearful rock,
And reach the dwelling-place of happy souls.
No deeds shall bar me out.
I never told a lie;
Kind have I been to father and to mother.
Returning from the hunt or field of war,
His daughter handed him a lighted pipe;
And she who gave her birth sat in the sun
Upon her bench, beside the lodge's door,
While young Winona baked the buffalo,
And drew the crystal water from the stream.
And I shall go where there is peace,
And where joy wakes for ever:
There I shall meet my hunter;
He shall build our lodge beside the murmuring stream,
And thatch it with the vine, whose ripe, black grapes
Shall hang adown in clusters;
Our little babes shall pluck them.
Warrior, I shall not be your wife--
Father, you have no daughter--
Brothers, your sister lies upon the earth,
Cold, bleeding, lifeless, and too late you mourn!
The light wind which blew at the time wafted the bitter words of her
mournful dirge to the spot where her friends were. They immediately
rushed, some towards the summit of the hill to stop her, others to the
foot of the precipice to receive her in their arms, while all with
tears in their eyes entreated her to desist from her fatal purpose.
Her father promised her that no compulsive measures should be resorted
to, that she should marry or not as, she chose. Her brothers, who
loved her with great affection, urged every thing that they thought
likely to be of avail, but in vain. She was resolved, and, as she
concluded the words of her song, she threw herself from the precipice,
and fell at their feet, a corpse.