With all the fury—mimicking the pride—
Of their fierce fathers; and the savage soul,
Nursed e’en in youth on thoughts in carnage dyed,
Instinctively, with simultaneous swell,
Sent from their lips the unfledged battle yell.
Their little bows they twanged with threatening mien,
Their little war-clubs shook to tell their ires;
Their mimic scalping-knives they brandished keen,
And acted o’er the stories of their sires;