The Death Song
THE sun sets in night, and the stars shun the day, But glory remains when their lights fade away: Begin, you tormentors ! your threats are in vain, For the son of Alknomook will never complain. Remember the arrows he shot from his bow, Remember your chiefs, by his hatchet laid low: Why so slow? do you wait till I shrink from the pain? No; the son of Alknomook shall never complain. Remember the wood, where in ambush we lay, And the scalps which we bore from your nation away: Now the flame rises fast; you exult in my pain; But the son of Alknomook can never complain. I go to the land where my father is gone, His ghost shall rejoice in the fame of his son: Death comes like a friend to relieve me from pain; And thy son, O Alknomook, has scorn'd to complain.
Anne Hunter’s other poems: