'Tis no light thing that God has stooped
Our dear one home to bring,
From weariness and painfulness
To the presence of the King.
Let weeping and rejoicing,
Mingled, our sorrow tell;
We are lonely, oh our Father
But Thou knowest it is well.
TECUMTHE.
(From the "Globe.")
October's leaf was sere;
The day was dark and drear.
Wild war was loosed in rage o'er our quiet country then;
When at Moravian town,
Where the little Thames flows down,
In the net of battle caught was Proctor and his men.
Caught in an evil plight,
When he'd rather march than fight,
Every bit of British pluck and resolution gone.
And sternly standing near,
As a British brigadier,
Stood Tecumthe, our ally, the forests' bravest son.
A prince, a leader born,
His dark eye flashed with scorn,
He said: "My father, listen, there's rumours from afar,
Of mishaps, and mistakes,
Of disasters on the lakes,
My father need not hide the mischances of the war.
"My braves have set their feet,
Where two great rivers meet;
We went upon the war-path; we raised the battle-song;
We met in deadly fight,
The Yengees in their might,
Till the waters of the Wabash dyed crimson flowed along.
"They ask us, in their pride,
To idly stand aside,
To be false to our allies, and neutral in this war;
They think that Indian men
Will never think again
Of wrongs by Yengee spoilers, how false their treaties are.
"Allies both firm and true,
For our Father's sake to you,
Our Great Father round whose throne the mighty waters meet;
When din of battle's high,
Only coward curs will fly;
It is not Shawnee braves show foes their flying feet,"