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the indian's bride.
What wild emotion moved his heart?
Say, should we call it love,
That brought the eagle from of high
To mate him with the dove?
Say, should we call it love,
That brought the eagle from of high
To mate him with the dove?
Was there no maiden of his tribe,
No dark-eyed, dusky one,
Who dwelt within his native wilds
On toward the setting sun,
No dark-eyed, dusky one,
Who dwelt within his native wilds
On toward the setting sun,
Could bear his burden by his side?—
With him the hills could roam?—
And dress for him the mountain deer,
And tend his forest home?
With him the hills could roam?—
And dress for him the mountain deer,
And tend his forest home?
But must he woo this lovely flower
From Albion's distant shore,
To wither 'neath a foreign sky,
And pine in sorrow sore?
From Albion's distant shore,
To wither 'neath a foreign sky,
And pine in sorrow sore?
What will she, with her costly gems,
That she has worn with pride?
The feather and the shell were best
To deck the Red Man's bride.
That she has worn with pride?
The feather and the shell were best
To deck the Red Man's bride.
