Who once held sway o'er all this fertile land.
Methinks to-day I see him stand alone,
Drawing his blanket close around his form;
He hath braved all, hath heard the dying moan
Rise from the fields of strife; and now the storm
That hath swept all before it, age on age,
On him, the last, seeks to pour forth its rage.
Raising his hand appealing to the sun,
He swears, by all he hath or now could crave,
That when his life is closed, his life-race run,
A white man ne'er shall stand above his grave.
Shall he, the last of a once noble race,
Consign himself to such a dire disgrace?
Never! let rock to rock the word resound;
Never! bear witness all ye gods to-day;
Never! ye streams and rivers, as ye bound,
Write "Never" on your waves, and bear away;
Tell to the world that, hunted, wronged, abused,
With such reproach he ne'er shall be accused,
The red man's brethren, tell him where are they;
The red man's homes and altars, what their fate?
Shall he who stands the last, the last to-day,
Forget with his last breath to whisper hate?
Hate, deep and fathomless, and boundless too,
Such as to fiendish cruelty is due.
He cannot bear the white man's presence now,
Or bear to hear his name or see his works;
He thinks that wrong is stamped upon his brow,
That in his good deeds selfish purpose lurks.
Has he a cause for this?-review the past,