The Indian Death Song

The sun sets in night, an the stars shun the day, But glory remains when their lights fade away; Begin ye tormentors, your threats are in vain, For the son of Alknomook shall never complain.

Remember the arrows he shot from his bow; Remember your chiefs by his hatchet laid low: Why so flow?—do you wait till I shrink from my pain? No—the son of Alknomook shall never complain.

Remember the wood—where in ambush welay, 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 shall never complain. I go to the land where my father is gone; His ghost will rejoice in the fame of his son: Death comes like a friend,—he relieves me from pain; And the son of Alknomook has scorn'd to complain.