Poems (Baldwyn)/The Chief

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4501760Poems — The ChiefAugusta Baldwyn
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!"

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.

1850.